Bdsm

3.a: The treadmill

Wednesday had come around again. I had gotten a message from Sir to be at his place for one p.m. and I was achingly horny. Besides the fact that I had been locked for a month now, far longer than I ever had been before, I was still feeling the residual excitement from shooting that video in the parking garage on the weekend. So, after doing my blowjob training on my dildo I was ready to go with time to spare.

As usual, I let myself into Sir’s apartment and undressed. Once again, there was a buttplug waiting for me on the stand by the entryway. Just as I was completing inserting it, Sir came into the entryway, and I quickly dropped to my knees from my dildo-stuffing squat. He was dressed in sweatpants instead of his usual jeans, and he had a small gym bag in one hand.

“We’re going on a field trip,” he said, as he stepped past me and opened the apartment’s front door. He stepped out and gestured for me to follow. A little nervously, I shuffled out on my knees. He took out his key and locked the door.

“We’re going down to the fitness room in the basement,” he said. “I’m taking the elevator, but you’ll probably want to take the stairs. I’ll meet you there.” With that he turned and headed toward the elevators.

No time to feel nervous, I thought to myself. I turned in the opposite direction and started shuffling toward the stairwell door at the end of the hallway. I heard the elevator ding behind me, and the doors open and close. I looked behind me — fortunately, no one had gotten off the elevator, and the hallway was empty.

I stood up and hustled to get the stairwell, feeling a bit of relief at the relative concealment once the door had closed behind me. Back here again, I thought, remembering the mission I was given here on my first visit to Sir’s apartment. That was only a couple weeks ago, but it felt like a while back now, at the start of this whole new part of my life.

Once more, the trip was easy until I got to the landing before the ground floor. I had to lean down and try and make sure that there was no one coming in or out of the door at the side of the building. It seemed clear, so I hustled to get to the next stairway, which lead to the basement and parking garage.

Reaching the basement, I peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear, so I scurried out. This hallway was narrower than the ones on the apartment floors, with old tiles on the floor instead of carpet, reflecting the uncovered fluorescent tubes above, and rendering everything harsh and bright.

I moved forward. The first door, on the left, had a sign reading STORAGE LOCKERS beside it. A bit ahead on the right was an open door; its sign read LAUNDRY, with the hours listed in smaller type below. I looked in before moving past it, and luckily it was empty. Past the elevators there were a couple unmarked doors, and near the far end of the hallway from where I had entered was another open door. I could see the sign FITNESS ROOM as I approached.

Remembering to drop to my knees, I peeked around the edge of the door and could see Sir, so with some relief I made my way out of the hallway. What if there had been someone else down here when we arrived? Maybe he wouldn’t have cared.

Seeing me enter, he walked over to the doorway and closed it, offering at least the smallest of warnings if anyone else wanted to have a workout.

I had a second now to take in my surroundings. It was not the sort of high-end fitness facility they were putting in the newer condominium buildings. This looked more like the management company had bought some equipment just so they could brag to prospective tenants that they had a fitness room. There were a couple stationary bikes, a couple treadmills, a desultory weight set and a single pilates ball, with the bulk of the room open, presumably for yoga or other exercises.

My eye caught something in the corner, and my head snapped back as my brain caught up with what I was looking at: it was a CCTV camera taking in the room.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Sir said, following my gaze. “Most places never look at their surveillance footage. I know for a fact that no-one monitors it in this building. It just goes into a laptop… they keep the footage for 21 days, then it’s automatically recorded over. Pretty much never gets checked, unless they were looking up a break-in or something. So if you don’t hear anything in a couple weeks you’ll be fine.”

Small assurance! Still, there was nothing to do about it and surely if anyone did see it, it would make more trouble for Sir, being the tenant there.

While we were on the topic of cameras, I wondered if he would make any comment on my weekend assignments and the video I had sent him, but he just turned away and opened up his gym bag.

“Pull out your buttplug”, he said, tossing a towel at me.

As I half-raised myself to pull it out, he had his back to me, standing in front of one of casino siteleri the stationary bikes. A moment later, he gestured me over and I could see what he had been up to: attached to the seat, both with a suction cup and some sort of strap, was a moderately thick dildo. As I shuffled over, he pulled out a tube of lube from his bag and squeezed some on the rubber dong.

“Get on and ride,” he said.

I knew what he meant, so I climbed on the bike, and raising my hips, wiggled around until I could feel the dildo between my asscheeks. I carefully lowered myself down, feeling it find the spot of least resistance and slipping into my asshole.

Though I could feel its girth stretching my sphincter, the dildo wasn’t particularly long, so I was able to slowly and carefully settle down until I was almost sitting on the seat. My foot shifted and I automatically just started pushing on the pedals, biking to nowhere with a fake cock up my ass.

Just as I was settling in, I felt a stinging smak! on my left asscheek. “I said, ride it!” And there was a smak! on my right cheek.

Starting to feel the strain of the exertion, I carefully raised myself up and then slid back down the dildo, trying to time it so it was part of the same motion my feet were making.

Smak! “Faster! Up! Down! Up! Down!” And with a smack for each call, Sir dictated a much increased pace. That meant I has to cycle faster to stay in sync with my hips rising and falling. I was quickly feeling the fatigue, breathing hard in and out as I tried to keep up with the pace of the fucking he wanted to see.

Although at first there was the slightly uncomfortable feeling of stretching and invasion, quickly enough my sphincter relaxed so at least it felt rather good to be fucking the dildo. But after a couple minutes of intense activity, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up. Fortunately, as I was starting to feel the strain in my legs, there was one last, solid smack to my buttocks and Sir said, “all right, get down from there.”

Slowing down carefully, I managed to extricate myself from the dildo and pivoted wobbly-legged to the floor. I was about to lower myself to my knees when Sir gestured at the weight-lifting bench beside me. “Lay down on that… face down, ass up.”

I managed to do that while he rummaged around in his gym bag some more. From the corner of my eye, I could see him pulling out what looked like a thick metal cylinder. It tapered to a smooth point at one end, and the other ended in a thin rubber tube which connected at its far end to a flattened metal disc. The main body of the metal plug was very thick, much thicker than the dildo I had just been sitting on.

Seconds later I could feel lube being squeezed into my asscrack, and belatedly I realized that Sir was intending to put that thick plug up my asshole. I must have tensed up, as he gave a behind another smack.

“Just relax,” he said. “It looks big, but it’s ergonomically designed to fit in you.” And with that, I felt cold metal pushing against my asshole, then entering it. For a moment there was a pleasing sensation as it pushed into me, but it kept getting thicker and thicker, and soon I was feeling more alarmed. I had to fight the instinct to fight it and to try and push it out. I knew this was going in me one way or another, and I tried once more to relax. It felt impossibly thick for a couple heartbeats, and then it hit the tapered part at the far end, and it felt like my asshole was suddenly pulling it into my body until I could feel the large solid disc at the end holding it in place.

While my brain buzzed at the feelings of that invasion, Sir gave me a couple minutes to catch my breath. Then with another smack on my ass, he gestured over to the treadmill, and I scuttled off the bench and over to it.

Standing beside me on the floor, Sir reached over to the control panel and started the treadmill, and soon I was walking at a rather relaxed pace. However, with the large buttplug in place, this wasn’t at all like ordinary walking, as every step rubbed the large invader against my prostate, sending shivers of weird, intense pleasure through my belly. A tweak to the controls and I was at a normal pace, and then a brisk walk. I leaned forward to reach for the handles, but that also earned me a smack on the ass. “Hands at your sides!” Sir ordered.

Each time the pace increased, so did the intensity of the jolts in my belly. Soon I was getting short of breath and I had to concentrate on breathing and keeping my balance, but the joy from the buttplug insistently rubbing my prostate was overpowering my mind.

I let out a whimper, and a second later there was another smack on my buttocks that almost sent me stumbling.

“What’s that, boy? Is there a problem?”

“Uhnnn, no,” I managed to huff, “it feels good in my ass. It feels like… like I’m gonna come!”

His only response was to increase the speed again, and now slot oyna I had to push myself a bit to keep up with the pace. And then it got even faster. My breath was coming in ragged heaves now, and the pleasure in my asshole was glowing, growing… exploding.

“Oh fuck,” I managed to mutter. There was a tiny detached part of my brain that was astounded that I was about to have an orgasm under these circumstances: chastity cage constraining my dick, giant plug in my ass and running near the point of exhaustion. But it was happening. That glorious release was so close… just right here… and…

Then the roof collapsed on me.

At least, some few seconds later, that was the first plausible explanation my brain offered. I was laying in a heap on the floor. Ow! I quickly took stock, and though I had fallen for some reason, it seemed like I was okay. The Treadmill! A second later my brain came back online and I remembered what I had been doing… running, the glorious feelings of pleasure, the edge of orgasm.

Ah, fuck, I thought I was going to come! my hand involuntarily moves down to my caged cock, and I was confused to find it wet. Shit, am I bleeding? I raised my hand up and the dampness was milky rather than crimson.

“I did come!” it took me a second to realize I had said that aloud. Then I heard laughter and looked over at Sir, who was holding the electric plug for the treadmill. In a flash I knew: he had been planning this all along, watching me, increasing the speed as the pleasure pushed me to the edge, and then ruining my orgasm in a violent way.

He started packing up his toys in my gym bag while I collected my wits and pulled myself up to my knees. “Knock before you come into the apartment,” he said over his shoulder as he left the workout room and I went and stood by the door, listening for the sound of the elevator door opening and closing. Then I stuck my head out to peer up and down the hallway. The coast was clear, so I ducked into the stairwell — this time the one that was right by the door to the workout room.

Climbing up twelve flights of stairs was harder than expected after the workout I just had. I had to rest, crouching naked on the corner of a landing of the fifth floor to get my breath and my strength back. But at least I didn’t come across anyone else using the stairs.

At the top, I had to make the longer trip down the hallway to get to Sir’s door, but I felt a little bit used to being nude in this situation. Dropping to my knees, I knocked on his door, and after making me wait for about a minute once more he let me in.

“Make sure you clean up the buttplug before you go,” was his only comment as he turned and went toward the living room. I walked on my knees to the bathroom to push out the buttplug — and it felt even bigger coming out than it did going in. But squatting and pushing led to an inevitable result. I couldn’t believe how warm and heavy it felt in my hand as I washed it clean. What a beautiful thing! I was still a little scared of it, but I was hoping I’d get to feel it in me once again.

3.b: The Poker Game (1)

The next day, I got an email from the keyholding website I was using when I first locked myself. It said that my session was now over and gave me the picture I had sent to the site, the one of the combination on my lockbox that I had uploaded without looking at. Right before scanning the QR code to learn about the video I’d have to shoot that week I duly forwarded the combination picture to Sir. He could unlock me whenever he wanted now, but I suspected it would not be happening soon.

That send a giddy thrill through me. I never would have guessed a month ago that this could happen to me! That thought — that I had no control at all over when my cock would be free — added to the horniness that had been building up in me.

And it kept building up over the rest of the week until it was time to report for my next inspection. I spent extra time getting ready before I left, cleaning out my ass, and hoping that he would fuck me, or at least use my mouth again.

Those thoughts were swirling through me and by the time I got to Sir’s apartment building I was really stirred up and straining against my cage. I had also been thinking about what had happened in that other building’s stairwell last week, and maybe that’s why instead of getting on the elevator I turned and went over to the stairs. Once I was on the second floor landing, I got undressed, putting my clothes and shoes in my backpack and I headed up to the twelfth floor. Unlike the other times I had done this, instead of feeling scared I was feeling turned on. The fact that I had chosen to expose myself like this instead of being told to just made it feel even more exciting. By the time I was walking down the hallway to Sir’s door being nude like this felt almost normal.

That would be the most exciting part of the visit. After I shuffled over to his desk where he canlı casino siteleri was working, he barely seemed to register that I was there. After a couple minutes, he turned his attention to me, gestured at me to stand up and inspected my cage, gently tugging and twisting it.

He didn’t say anything about the picture of my lockbox combination that I had sent to him, and I knew better than to ask. In fact, he didn’t have anything else to say to me, making a gesture to indicate I was dismissed as he turned back to his computer.

So, no relief for me then. That took away some of the horny bravado I’d been feeling, and I got dressed in his entryway and left the building in the normal way.

I was only a couple minutes after I got back home that he texted me. As usual, he communicated on his terms and timing only.

“COME TO MY PLACE FRIDAY WHEN YOU ARE DONE WORK.”

“SEE IF YOU CAN GET OFF EARLY AND GET OVER HERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN.”

Well, that got me excited all over again. If he has having me come over when it’s not an inspection day he must have some sort of plans to use me, right?

As it turned out, there wasn’t a lot of work in the queue on Friday, so I made a deal with my supervisor to let me work a half-day, so I was able to text and tell Sir I would be there before 8 o’clock. That meant I didn’t have time to go home and get ready, so I gave myself a quick anal cleaning in the office bathroom. A month ago an enema bulb wouldn’t have been a routine item that I had with me in my bag!

When I arrived back at his place, I was even hornier than I had been on Wednesday. As I undressed in the entryway I was itching for release, but as always, even though he was pulling the levers to push me to a state of constant agitation I knew that Sir didn’t want to hear from me about how horny I was.

Instead, when I presented myself to him, he simply gestured for me to follow him into the bathroom. I could see a small pile of items on the back of the toilet but I didn’t have time to really look at them.

“Stand up and face the wall,” he said. “lean forward on your hands.”

I complied, and a few seconds later, I felt him crouching behind me. Something wrapped around my left ankle and then tightened. I looked down and saw it was a leather bondage cuff. A second went around my right ankle, and then after he stood up, more around my wrists as well.

“Get in the tub,” he said, and I stepped over into the bathtub. Following his directions, I was quickly laying down, head elevated at the far end from the taps.

He turned back to his supplies, then leaned over me, with something in his hands as he reached for my face. It was a blindfold of some sort that tightened around the back of my head. Soft pads pressed against my eyes, and even when I opened them, I now saw only darkness. A few seconds later, something else went over my head, covering my ears. Later I would see that they were a pair of construction-site hearing protection earmuffs, but when they went on all I knew was that my hearing was suddenly as absent as my vision.

Stripped of my senses, Sir quickly worked with my limbs. I felt a rope being pulled through the eye rings of my wrist cuffs, and my arms were raised above my head and secured to something above me. Something was attached to each of my ankles — I was guessing it was a spreader bar — and that was secured somewhere above the taps, making it impossible to move my legs more than a couple inches in any direction.

So there I was, stretched out in my Master’s bathtub — nude, blind and deaf, and unable to move. What was he going to do with me now?

The first answer was that he was going to make me wait. Bound in this way, I had no way to measure how much time was passing, but it seemed like quite a while. Twenty minutes? Half an hour? It could have been more for all I knew.

Even as my eyes and ears adjusted, their coverings kept anything at all from getting through, even as I strained to concentrate and try to sense tiny variations in sound or light. The sound of my heart beating and the spots slowly drifting in my darkened vision were all I had.

Waiting was exciting, then dull, then exciting and dull. A couple minutes after Sir finished securing me (and, presumably, left the room), I was squirming in horny frustration, my cock pushing against my cage. Then a long period of dulled boredom. Then, I started imagining things that could happen to me in this state and I started to get excited again.

And then, when I was in the middle of a vivid fantasy scene, something suddenly splashed on my chest — and then my face.

I must have yelped in surprise, and suddenly there was liquid in my mouth, too. It was piss. I could suddenly taste that Sir was pissing on me. My cock twitched even more in my cage. I smiled, and leaned my head back, mouth open. It filled with strong-tasting piss and I swallowed as the stream continued. Sir must have been holding it in, as there was a lot of it. The stream moved from my mouth to my forehead, then back, moving down my neck and chest, and I could sense it going from a torrent to a trickle. Then it stopped.

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