by BILLYCHAINED
I’d been going to “hang out” with Darren twice or three times a month for the past few years. We started off chatting about mutual interests on various bondage forums before we realized that we, in fact, lived in the same city and only a few miles away from each other. And our interests aligned perfectly: he wanted someone to torture, and I wanted someone who would hurt me.
Our first meeting, a casual encounter at a bar equidistant to us both, involved a lot of “talking around” our subject of discussion. We used phrases like “our mutual interest” and “for my part of the encounter,” since what we were discussing was him putting me in heavy chains, sensory deprivation, chastity, and then flogging or spanking me until I screamed before his dick went somewhere inside of me he considered useful or pleasurable.
I probably should not have followed him back to his apartment that first time. But his entire demeanor was – well, it’s a cliche, but it was dominant. He met me on the ground floor of his apartment complex. He had me wear my leather jacket, jeans, combat boots.
On the elevator ride up, I had to hold my hands behind my back and look at the floor. We were in his home. I was not allowed to look him in the eye.
Once we were in his apartment, I realized how thoroughly committed to bondage and torture he really was. A bedroom of his apartment had been converted into an impressive dungeon, complete with all the chains and whips and other apparatus of control one would expect.
“Look up,” he commanded. I looked at him.
“Look around,” he said. “This is its last chance to back out. After this, I will treat it like the object it is. I will not listen to it if it says it can’t take it. I will ignore it if it wants the torture to stop. In fact,” he said, showing me a muzzle – it locked in five different places and would cover my entire face and jaw – “it won’t be allowed to speak at all. Does it want to continue?”
“Yes, Sir!” I said.
He grinned. “Good. Now, strip all the way down and put the keys to your collar and cock cage on the dresser. Kneel down and put your hands behind your head when it is finished. It will wait on me until I am ready.”
I complied. I folded all my clothes and placed them on a chair. My phone, at his instruction, had stayed in my car. I was naked except for the chain collar and the metal cock cage that kept me from masturbating.
He did not allow me to see a single thing that was happening. He put a heavy blindfold over my eyes before he did a single other thing. My hands were cuffed behind me next, and then the muzzle went on, each strap tighter than the last, until my jaw was fastened in place. Shackles on my ankles, I was led a few feet away, where he ordered me to hold still while he continually slapped my ass harder and harder.
I’m not sure how long he tortured me. I know that I felt my cock getting hard the entire time, and at the end of evening, my hands still cuffed behind me, he unlocked the muzzle.
“Are you going to suck what I put into your mouth?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir!” I agreed.
“Good.”
Afterwards, I was perhaps the horniest I had ever been, but Darrin, good to his word, did not allow me to cum. He did give me all the keys back before he sent me on my way.
The next time we met, I begged him to keep the keys. I told him how what I most wanted in life was to become a slave, a real one. He used this information to his advantage.
“Maybe I’ll just fill in these keyholes,” he suggested, “and keep you here forever.” And sometimes, I found myself actively wishing he’d do it, thinking that if the moment came when he suggested that I become his property, I would say yes.
After a few months, however, he had to cancel one of our sessions. I didn’t think anything of it until he had to cancel another, and then a third one after that. He still had the keys both to my cock cage and to the chain collar locked around my neck. I was getting worried that I would have to cut them off or else just wear them both locked on forever.
But after blowing me off for two months, I finally got him nailed down for a session. This is where I am now – taking the elevator up to his room.
When I walk into his apartment, however, he does not look nearly as healthy as the last time I saw him. He seems thinner, paler; he looks paranoid. He pulls me into the apartment and locks the door as soon as I am on the other side.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It … it will be,” he says. He smiles. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” he says. “Right now, you’re here to get tied up and hurt, and I’m the one who’s going to tie you up and hurt you. So let’s get started.”
It begins as it usually does, with me stripping naked and with him blindfolding and muzzling me before I get put into cuffs and shackles. But these shackles – these feel different, heavier. So do the manacles. Once he has me secured, I feel him unlock the chain around my neck and replace it with a thick, steel collar. I hear the chain on the leash of the collar rattle in his hand.
This time, when he chains me to the bedframe, he undoes the blindfold.
I have never seen myself chained up like this. He had placed a mirror directly in front of me so that I could see myself as I am, a chained-up, cock-locked object. I see my cock twitch a little in the reflection.
“I need to be honest with you about something,” Darrin says. “This is going to be our last session.”
I would frown or say something if I weren’t muzzled. My eyes must have registered my confusion, and he continues. “I am … I owe someone a lot of money,” he says. “Like, a lot a lot. It’s more money than I could probably earn in five or six years of working. Maybe longer. And … the guy I owe it to isn’t going to foreclose on my apartment to get his money back.”
I nod.
He sighs, scratching his head, unsure how to continue. “Here’s the thing,” he says. “I know … I know how much you want to be a real slave. Is that still what you want?”
I pause. I’m not exactly sure where this is going, so I do not reply.
“Because,” he says, “the guy I owe money to – he’s coming here, tonight, to collect a slave. And if you want it to be, it could be you.”
He unbuckles the muzzle. I am still chained, and I see a new importance to the change in the hardware. The cuffs and leg irons we usually use were for short-term sessions. The heavy manacles, the thick collar, the shackles – these are long-term restraints. These are designed for me to wear them indefinitely.
I feel my heart racing. I don’t say anything as the muzzle is removed. All I can think about is the gentle way he is acting, the subtle, soft, almost kind way he is proposing this new reality.
“Are you … you’re really serious?” I ask. “This is … like, real.”
“Very real,” he says. “I thought about it a lot, and I thought – this might be a way for both of us to get something we want. I would rather not be shot in the head and dumped in the river, and you would rather … not be free anymore.”
My cock tries desperately to grow inside the cage.
“To settle the debt, I promised him a slave,” Darrin says. “The slave will be locked in a cock cage that it never takes off. It will spend its life chained up, collared, shackled. It will be tortured, used for sex, locked in a cage at night. It’ll probably spend a lot of its time locked in a sensory deprivation hood or a muzzle. And the important part – it won’t have any rights at all. It won’t be able to back out. It’ll be property, the rest of its life.”
I feel my pulse triple and beat frantically in my ears. “Is this … done? Like … I’m about to become a slave?”
“Only if you want to. Only if you agree.”
“What happens … if I don’t agree?”
Darrin sighs. “Then I will need your help to put all those chains on,” he says, “and when he shows up, I’ll start my life as his slave. It’s either that, or …” He lets the suggestion hang in the air.
I can’t help it. I have never been this excited about something. I feel the chains on my wrist and think to myself, if I want it to happen, these will never come off. I feel my cock throbbing in its cage and realize that I might never get to cum again, that I’ll spend the whole rest of my life satisfying another man while I’m forbidden from cumming myself.
No freedoms. No rights.
No way out.
But isn’t this …? this is exactly what I’ve always wanted.
“Yes,” I say.
Darrin looks up. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say. “And … fuck. Fuck, fuck. I’m … I’m really about to become a slave, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” Darrin assures me. “A real one. You’re sure – you’re sure this is what you want?”
“Do me a favor,” I say. “I need you to do something for me before – before I get – a last favor, I guess. Since this is our last session.”
“Yeah, man. Anything. Anything at all. What do you want?”
“Put me back in the muzzle and blindfold,” I say. “Unlock my cock – just once. And tell me all about the life I’m about to have while you jerk me off. And … and this’ll be the last time I ever get to cum, won’t it?”
“Yeah, man. Yeah it will.”
“Afterwards – when I’m done, I’m going to fight you about this. I won’t want to become a slave anymore. That’s why – that’s why the muzzle and the chains are so important. Because you’re going to give me to my new Owner anyway. And … fuck, man. I guess this is the last time I’ll ever see you.”
“Yeah,” Darrin agreed. “And … thanks.”
The blindfold and muzzle go back on, and even as the world goes dark, I feel the key go into my cock cage. The cage part comes off, but Darrin leaves the cockring portion in place.
“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” he says. He pulls on my cock, gently stroking.
“I can’t believe you agreed to this. Your whole life – the whole rest of your life – you’ll just be a thing, a sex object. I used to call you ‘it’ to fuck with you while I tortured you, but this is fucking real. I’m going to hand you to an Owner and you’ll be his slave. And you’re going to spend every moment of the rest of your life thinking of this moment, wishing you’d said, ‘No, Darrin – you go be the slave.’
“But you didn’t, did you?” He pumps my cock harder in his hand. “You know you’re a fucking subhuman piece of shit and that you deserve this. And I’m fucking GLAD that I talked you into this. You get to cover all my debts for me. Whenever I do anything fun, or go out to eat, or fuck some sub, I’ll think about you, all chained up, locked in a cage. I get off scot-free and you – you pay for all my bad decisions with every moment of the rest of your sad slave life.”
Fuck. I feel the pressure building up in my balls. I’m seconds away from bursting.
Abruptly … he stops. He stops. My rock-hard cock hangs in the air. Frantically, I try to move my hips, trying to get any traction at all. No, no, no! He has to keep going!
“I’m going to lock your cock back up,” he says. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m doing you a favor.”
“Nmmph!” I scream into the muzzle. “Nmmph NNMPPH.”
“If you cum now,” he says, “you’re going to start your life as a slave regretting everything. And … I think you’re going to really like being a slave. I think you’re going to wake up in a few years, still all chained up, still locked in your cock cage, and be glad that you’re property. I won’t ruin that for you now by letting you cum, by letting you feel like a real man for a second. You’re not a real man. You’re property. And you deserve everything that’s about to happen to you.”
I strain and fight as he pushes the cage portion of my chastity device back into place. It takes a solid few minutes, but slowly, slowly, my cock yields to the inevitability of its situation. He places the lock back in place and tugs on the device a couple of times to make sure that everything is tight and secure.
He slaps me a couple of times on the face as I hear a chime ring. “Stay here,” he says, chuckling.
“There’s someone at the door for you.”
I’d been going to “hang out” with Darren twice or three times a month for the past few years. We started off chatting about mutual interests on various bondage forums before we realized that we, in fact, lived in the same city and only a few miles away from each other. And our interests aligned perfectly: he wanted someone to torture, and I wanted someone who would hurt me.
Our first meeting, a casual encounter at a bar equidistant to us both, involved a lot of “talking around” our subject of discussion. We used phrases like “our mutual interest” and “for my part of the encounter,” since what we were discussing was him putting me in heavy chains, sensory deprivation, chastity, and then flogging or spanking me until I screamed before his dick went somewhere inside of me he considered useful or pleasurable.
I probably should not have followed him back to his apartment that first time. But his entire demeanor was – well, it’s a cliche, but it was dominant. He met me on the ground floor of his apartment complex. He had me wear my leather jacket, jeans, combat boots.
On the elevator ride up, I had to hold my hands behind my back and look at the floor. We were in his home. I was not allowed to look him in the eye.
Once we were in his apartment, I realized how thoroughly committed to bondage and torture he really was. A bedroom of his apartment had been converted into an impressive dungeon, complete with all the chains and whips and other apparatus of control one would expect.
“Look up,” he commanded. I looked at him.
“Look around,” he said. “This is its last chance to back out. After this, I will treat it like the object it is. I will not listen to it if it says it can’t take it. I will ignore it if it wants the torture to stop. In fact,” he said, showing me a muzzle – it locked in five different places and would cover my entire face and jaw – “it won’t be allowed to speak at all. Does it want to continue?”
“Yes, Sir!” I said.
He grinned. “Good. Now, strip all the way down and put the keys to your collar and cock cage on the dresser. Kneel down and put your hands behind your head when it is finished. It will wait on me until I am ready.”
I complied. I folded all my clothes and placed them on a chair. My phone, at his instruction, had stayed in my car. I was naked except for the chain collar and the metal cock cage that kept me from masturbating.
He did not allow me to see a single thing that was happening. He put a heavy blindfold over my eyes before he did a single other thing. My hands were cuffed behind me next, and then the muzzle went on, each strap tighter than the last, until my jaw was fastened in place. Shackles on my ankles, I was led a few feet away, where he ordered me to hold still while he continually slapped my ass harder and harder.
I’m not sure how long he tortured me. I know that I felt my cock getting hard the entire time, and at the end of evening, my hands still cuffed behind me, he unlocked the muzzle.
“Are you going to suck what I put into your mouth?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir!” I agreed.
“Good.”
Afterwards, I was perhaps the horniest I had ever been, but Darrin, good to his word, did not allow me to cum. He did give me all the keys back before he sent me on my way.
The next time we met, I begged him to keep the keys. I told him how what I most wanted in life was to become a slave, a real one. He used this information to his advantage.
“Maybe I’ll just fill in these keyholes,” he suggested, “and keep you here forever.” And sometimes, I found myself actively wishing he’d do it, thinking that if the moment came when he suggested that I become his property, I would say yes.
After a few months, however, he had to cancel one of our sessions. I didn’t think anything of it until he had to cancel another, and then a third one after that. He still had the keys both to my cock cage and to the chain collar locked around my neck. I was getting worried that I would have to cut them off or else just wear them both locked on forever.
But after blowing me off for two months, I finally got him nailed down for a session. This is where I am now – taking the elevator up to his room.
When I walk into his apartment, however, he does not look nearly as healthy as the last time I saw him. He seems thinner, paler; he looks paranoid. He pulls me into the apartment and locks the door as soon as I am on the other side.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It … it will be,” he says. He smiles. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.
“Let’s not talk about that now,” he says. “Right now, you’re here to get tied up and hurt, and I’m the one who’s going to tie you up and hurt you. So let’s get started.”
It begins as it usually does, with me stripping naked and with him blindfolding and muzzling me before I get put into cuffs and shackles. But these shackles – these feel different, heavier. So do the manacles. Once he has me secured, I feel him unlock the chain around my neck and replace it with a thick, steel collar. I hear the chain on the leash of the collar rattle in his hand.
This time, when he chains me to the bedframe, he undoes the blindfold.
I have never seen myself chained up like this. He had placed a mirror directly in front of me so that I could see myself as I am, a chained-up, cock-locked object. I see my cock twitch a little in the reflection.
“I need to be honest with you about something,” Darrin says. “This is going to be our last session.”
I would frown or say something if I weren’t muzzled. My eyes must have registered my confusion, and he continues. “I am … I owe someone a lot of money,” he says. “Like, a lot a lot. It’s more money than I could probably earn in five or six years of working. Maybe longer. And … the guy I owe it to isn’t going to foreclose on my apartment to get his money back.”
I nod.
He sighs, scratching his head, unsure how to continue. “Here’s the thing,” he says. “I know … I know how much you want to be a real slave. Is that still what you want?”
I pause. I’m not exactly sure where this is going, so I do not reply.
“Because,” he says, “the guy I owe money to – he’s coming here, tonight, to collect a slave. And if you want it to be, it could be you.”
He unbuckles the muzzle. I am still chained, and I see a new importance to the change in the hardware. The cuffs and leg irons we usually use were for short-term sessions. The heavy manacles, the thick collar, the shackles – these are long-term restraints. These are designed for me to wear them indefinitely.
I feel my heart racing. I don’t say anything as the muzzle is removed. All I can think about is the gentle way he is acting, the subtle, soft, almost kind way he is proposing this new reality.
“Are you … you’re really serious?” I ask. “This is … like, real.”
“Very real,” he says. “I thought about it a lot, and I thought – this might be a way for both of us to get something we want. I would rather not be shot in the head and dumped in the river, and you would rather … not be free anymore.”
My cock tries desperately to grow inside the cage.
“To settle the debt, I promised him a slave,” Darrin says. “The slave will be locked in a cock cage that it never takes off. It will spend its life chained up, collared, shackled. It will be tortured, used for sex, locked in a cage at night. It’ll probably spend a lot of its time locked in a sensory deprivation hood or a muzzle. And the important part – it won’t have any rights at all. It won’t be able to back out. It’ll be property, the rest of its life.”
I feel my pulse triple and beat frantically in my ears. “Is this … done? Like … I’m about to become a slave?”
“Only if you want to. Only if you agree.”
“What happens … if I don’t agree?”
Darrin sighs. “Then I will need your help to put all those chains on,” he says, “and when he shows up, I’ll start my life as his slave. It’s either that, or …” He lets the suggestion hang in the air.
I can’t help it. I have never been this excited about something. I feel the chains on my wrist and think to myself, if I want it to happen, these will never come off. I feel my cock throbbing in its cage and realize that I might never get to cum again, that I’ll spend the whole rest of my life satisfying another man while I’m forbidden from cumming myself.
No freedoms. No rights.
No way out.
But isn’t this …? this is exactly what I’ve always wanted.
“Yes,” I say.
Darrin looks up. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say. “And … fuck. Fuck, fuck. I’m … I’m really about to become a slave, aren’t I?”
“Yes, you are,” Darrin assures me. “A real one. You’re sure – you’re sure this is what you want?”
“Do me a favor,” I say. “I need you to do something for me before – before I get – a last favor, I guess. Since this is our last session.”
“Yeah, man. Anything. Anything at all. What do you want?”
“Put me back in the muzzle and blindfold,” I say. “Unlock my cock – just once. And tell me all about the life I’m about to have while you jerk me off. And … and this’ll be the last time I ever get to cum, won’t it?”
“Yeah, man. Yeah it will.”
“Afterwards – when I’m done, I’m going to fight you about this. I won’t want to become a slave anymore. That’s why – that’s why the muzzle and the chains are so important. Because you’re going to give me to my new Owner anyway. And … fuck, man. I guess this is the last time I’ll ever see you.”
“Yeah,” Darrin agreed. “And … thanks.”
The blindfold and muzzle go back on, and even as the world goes dark, I feel the key go into my cock cage. The cage part comes off, but Darrin leaves the cockring portion in place.
“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” he says. He pulls on my cock, gently stroking.
“I can’t believe you agreed to this. Your whole life – the whole rest of your life – you’ll just be a thing, a sex object. I used to call you ‘it’ to fuck with you while I tortured you, but this is fucking real. I’m going to hand you to an Owner and you’ll be his slave. And you’re going to spend every moment of the rest of your life thinking of this moment, wishing you’d said, ‘No, Darrin – you go be the slave.’
“But you didn’t, did you?” He pumps my cock harder in his hand. “You know you’re a fucking subhuman piece of shit and that you deserve this. And I’m fucking GLAD that I talked you into this. You get to cover all my debts for me. Whenever I do anything fun, or go out to eat, or fuck some sub, I’ll think about you, all chained up, locked in a cage. I get off scot-free and you – you pay for all my bad decisions with every moment of the rest of your sad slave life.”
Fuck. I feel the pressure building up in my balls. I’m seconds away from bursting.
Abruptly … he stops. He stops. My rock-hard cock hangs in the air. Frantically, I try to move my hips, trying to get any traction at all. No, no, no! He has to keep going!
“I’m going to lock your cock back up,” he says. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m doing you a favor.”
“Nmmph!” I scream into the muzzle. “Nmmph NNMPPH.”
“If you cum now,” he says, “you’re going to start your life as a slave regretting everything. And … I think you’re going to really like being a slave. I think you’re going to wake up in a few years, still all chained up, still locked in your cock cage, and be glad that you’re property. I won’t ruin that for you now by letting you cum, by letting you feel like a real man for a second. You’re not a real man. You’re property. And you deserve everything that’s about to happen to you.”
I strain and fight as he pushes the cage portion of my chastity device back into place. It takes a solid few minutes, but slowly, slowly, my cock yields to the inevitability of its situation. He places the lock back in place and tugs on the device a couple of times to make sure that everything is tight and secure.
He slaps me a couple of times on the face as I hear a chime ring. “Stay here,” he says, chuckling.
“There’s someone at the door for you.”