Metamorphosis (M/M) *** FINAL Part 6 (2023-04-20)

[blackbound]

This one's a bit of a departure for me, perhaps to push myself out of my comfort zone. I'm starting to post before I'm done writing, and it is (at least I hope it is) very different from what I've written so far. There's not even any TUGs in this part! In a way, it's an experiment, and one I hope people enjoy.

With that introduction out of the way, here is...

METAMORPHOSIS
PART ONE

It's always funny what kind of people you see on the subway late at night. A reflection of the city at its most raw and real. There's the drunks and stoners and hobos and rowdy adolescents, of course. I've seen people jack off, a blowjob, and other rather more unsanitary things. Usually, I turn a blind eye to any goings-on, as one does.

But not tonight.

I look over at Hoodie again. He's the only person other than me in the carriage. Attractive, a bit chunky, but not doing himself any favors with his shaved head and baggy clothes. He's a few shades lighter than me, but not mixed - if I had to guess, Central African heritage - Congo, Rwanda, somewhere around there. But importantly, and why I keep looking, he's miserable and bad at hiding it, his eyes red and brimming with tears he's angrily wiping into the sleeve of his hoodie.

I'm staring, and he notices. Gets up, and comes over in what he thinks is an aggressive manner, but he's clearly insecure. "You got a problem with me?" he asks, his voice strained.

I stay calm and look him right in the eyes. "Yeah." I pause just long enough to gauge his reaction; he doesn't know what to do. He won't be a danger, so I press on. "I'm wondering what's making this cute guy so forlorn."

As a dom, I think I'm pretty good at reading people, but what happens next takes me by surpise. He deflates, sits down on the floor of the carriage with his arms on his knees, head down, and starts to cry.

Ok, time to shift gear. I give him a minute, then squat next to him and take his head into my hands, raising it, until I'm looking into his eyes again. "Hey. Hey!" He focuses. "You want to talk about it?"

Again, he uses his sleeve to wipe his face; I move my hands away to let him, returning to my seat. Then: "You some kind of shrink or something?"

I smile. "Or something, yes." I pat the seat next to mine, and he sits. It's clear he's been wanting to talk to someone - anyone - because he pours his heart out to me. He's been living with a "friend" because he can't afford his own place. The "friend" found out he's gay, somehow, confronted him, and bodily threw him out right then and there. He has his clothes and phone right now, and that's it.

He shows me the text messages that Steven has been bombarding him with. As he does, a new one arrives. "get ur shit tmrw at 10 or im burning it u fucking fag"

At this point I can sense he's close to crying again. I reach out again and put my fingers along the sides of his head, my thumbs under his jaw, make sure he's paying full attention. He lets me do it, and I make a decision.

"You're staying at my place tonight, and for as long as you need. I've dealt with fuckwads like your *friend* before" - I make sure to stress the word in a way that makes it clear what I think of him - "so I'll go with you tomorrow to pick up your stuff to make sure there's not any troubles."

He's at a complete loss for words. "But... you don't even know me. I don't even know you."

I let go of his head and hold out my hand, making him shake it.

"Rodney," he says.

"Blessing," I reply, and see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Anything funny about that?" I ask, mock strict.

"No, Sir," he replies automatically. I don't think he realizes what he just said, because now he's crying again and hugging me tightly. I just hold him until it's my - our - stop.

[Red86]

That's a shame Rod's "friend" kicked him out. It's hard that this has been true for many over the years and even some to this day. I admittedly wasn't as accepting in my youth but I would hope had I found out or had a friend came out to me, I wouldn't have done this. As an adult, I wouldn't even give it a thought now a days.

Looking forward to learning more of Rod's and Blessing's past. Intriguing start as always!!

[Xtc]

I notice that this is up to your usual high standard of writing.
It has made me want to know what will happen.

[Bootmark]

Good start!

[blackbound]

[mention]Red86[/mention], good to hear you've grown as a person. Times have definitely changed since my youth, but I'm happy to change with them.

[mention]Xtc[/mention] and [mention]Bootmark[/mention], thanks for the kind words! A new chapter is coming soon™.

[blackbound]

PART 2

The next day, we take my car to go to Steven's place. Rodney is clearly still nervous, but we've talked for several hours now, and we've established mutual trust. Given how cripplingly shy he is, it's a miracle he agreed to my offer at all.

When we arrive, he's dumped Rodney's things in the grass outside the home and is standing on the balcony, smirking. Some of the stuff is in boxes, but he's just dumped the clothes on the ground, probably the night before, because it's soaking wet. I'm seething seeing Rodney's misery, but channel the energy into starting to load his things into the car.

"Did you bring your faggot boyfriend to help you? That's so nice," jeers Steven. Rodney studiously ignores him and is gathering his clothes when his "friend" goes for the coup de grace.

"Oh hey, don't forget this stuff!" he yells, and flings a bag at Rodney, who's forced to drop the clothes and narrowly dodges it as it hits the ground and spills its contents. I pretend not to notice the bondage paraphenalia that he desperately shovels back into the bag, instead engaging the laughing Steven, who's somehow still not done with his oh-so-edgy insults.

"Hey, coward, you want to come down here and repeat that?" I say, loud enough for him to hear. I know he won't be able to resist, and, sure enough, he disappears from the balcony and comes out the door soon after, getting right up into my face.

"I said you're a fucking fa--"

Out of nowhere, I slap him, hard, while he's mid-sentence. He sputters and tries to swing at me, but I dodge and all he does is fall on his ass. Rodney is staring at us, frozen, his eyes wide.

Steven's gotten back up and is amateurishly swinging at me again. I catch his wrist, use his momentum to spin him around, and yank his arm up his back while dropping to rest on one leg, with the other up. He comes to lie across my upper thigh, and I effortlessly catch his other flailing arm and wrench it up as well, controlling both of them with one hand in a way that allows me to cause him as much pain as I choose. With the other hand, I remove the belt from his pants, making it clear who's in charge when he tries to free himself, or even curse.

"Yo Rodney, I need a hand here!" I say, snapping him out of his paralysis. "I think this potty-mouth here needs a lesson, so I'm going to need you to pull his pants down."

He just stares at me, so I repeat. "Pants. Now."

He approaches hesitantly, but does as I ask. I wrench Steven's hands up just a bit higher, then start beating his ass with his belt as if he were a disobedient child. He's also blubbering like one. Rodney is staring in awe, his mouth slightly open.

"I'm gonna beat the black entirely off your fucking ass, Stevie, if you ever get into a five mile radius of either of us again," I warn him when I think he's had more than enough. A crowd of neighbors has formed, but for some mysterious reason, nobody's intervening for him. Am I seeing some satisfied smiles?

I yank him upright, then shove him away, and of course he trips and falls over his downed pants. I throw the belt at him, then continue to load things like nothing happened as he hurries away in utter defeat. Rodney's repacked the bag in the meantime, stowed it, and helps me get the last few things into the car.

As we drive back, he's looking at me admiringly, and a little sad. "I wish I could be like you," he says, eventually.

For once, I don't know how to respond.

[MaxRoper]

I think there's a lotta people wish they could be like Blessing.
Doesn't matter what the story is. If you write it, it's gonna be good.

[blackbound]

I think there's a lotta people wish they could be like Blessing.
Doesn't matter what the story is. If you write it, it's gonna be good.

Thank you so much. With Easter festivities out of the way, part 3 is incoming. Time for some action!

[blackbound]

"I don't know," I finally offer, "we may be more similar than you think." He just smiles sadly, though.

When we arrive back at my place, we grab his clothes and I lead him to the cellar, where the washer and dryer are. "Just dump it all in here," I say, then show him how to set it correctly.

While the machine's running, I give him the rundown of the house and make us brunch. I get a ping on my phone when the washing's done, and we head back down, moving the laundry over to the dryer.

"In here" - I open one of the two doors - "is my workout room. Feel free to use it whenever." He nods, but doesn't say anything; I can tell he's too self-conscious to have ever been in a gym.

"There's one more room down here," I say. "My... office, as it were." I've not told him what it is I do yet. I open the door and bid him walk ahead into the dark room, then stand behind him as I turn on the light.

The neon lamps flicker to life, illuminating my dungeon. It's packed with furniture - a cage, St. Andrew's cross, wooden horse, swing - and stuff neatly arranged on the walls - collars, paddles, whips, gags, blindfolds, ropes, tape, plugs, dildos, clamps, various garments, you name it.

From Rodney's posture, I can tell he's paralyzed, so I continue as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "When I have clients, I'll have to ask you to stay out of the way, but otherwise, if there's anything you want to do in here, just say the word."

He turns around and looks up at me with those big eyes of his. "Wh- why are you showing..." He trails off.

"Oh, I thought given your forbidden bag of mystery..." I tease. He is completely mortified and so, once again, I take his head into my hands and, once again, he lets it happen.

"I've only ever used that stuff on myself," he confesses in a small voice. "I've never even had a boyfriend."

"Well, like I said, if you ever need to be in here, one way or the other..."

He takes my hands in his, moving them off his face and between us, nods seriously, then lets go and wanders off to gaze at the walls, looking back for permission to take down this or that, inspecting it reverently then placing it meticulously back. I notice him lingering on the paddles. He's holding one in his hands, turning it back and forth, when he finally speaks. "So, this is your job?"

"It is now, yes," I say. "I sold my startup and decided to pursue what I actually wanted to do. I also do work with people with disabilities in the fetish space, since they have so few opportunities to express their kinks."

"That'd explain the elevator," he says, still playing with the paddle, unconsciously at this point. "You're a good man, Blessing, I can't thank you enough for putting me up. I know you said you don't want any payment, but I can't accept that."

"I'm sure we can come to some agreement." I'm pretty confident I know his answer, so I continue. "For example, do you cook?"

His eyes light up. "Do I!"

"Well, then you're hired." He's smiling for the first time, showing his pretty teeth. I hold out my hand again, and he shakes on it, just as the dryer starts beeping.

"Excuse me," he says and moves past me. I clear my throat expectantly and he notices he's still holding the paddle in one hand. Offers it to me. I take it and, more quickly than he can react, swat his ass with it, playfully. He jumps, looking at me, and now there's a hunger in his eyes.

"Put it back," I say sternly, but make no move to hand it back to him. He's still looking at me, so I can practically see the gears turning in his head before he swallows and opens his mouth.

"No." It comes out in a whisper.

I must admit I'm surprised that he's so openly taking the chance, given that I've left the choice wide open.

"I'm sorry," I say, "what?"

He clears his throat. Speaks more loudly. "No."

I grab him by the throat, not violently, but enough to make it clear who's in charge, and stare directly into his eyes with my best dominant glare. He's holding his hands behind his back.

"Are you disobeying me, boy?"

"Yes Sir!"

Again, the "Sir" out of nowhere. Well then. I start pushing him backwards, and he moves willingly, with just the slightest resistance, until I have him up against the St. Andrew's cross, where I let go of his neck and spin him around.

"Arms up, boy!" I command, and when he obeys, I put his wrists in the leather manacles hanging from the device, then spread his legs apart with my boots, trapping his ankles in the other two restraints. I stand right behind him, my mouth at his ear. I can hear his excited breath. Time to clarify a few things.

"Say 'yellow' when you need a break. Say 'red' and I will immediately stop. Understand?"

"Yes Sir," he murmurs.

"Do I have permission to undress you?"

"Yes Sir." Louder this time.

I detach and slip back into the dominant role. "Disobedient boys must be punished." I unbuckle his belt, open the jeans' button, slide down the zipper, then yank his pants down suddenly, revealing a pair of boxers with an elastic band. Perfect.

I pull the band towards me, revealing a beautiful behind, then let it snap back. His breath catches as I do so, and I repeat it a few times at varying intensity before pulling the boxers down a little further. I move to the other side of the cross, where the upper half of his penis has now been revealed. I pull back the elastic on that side and look right into his eyes, waiting for the moment of realisation before I let go and it smacks his shaft. That gets a soft groan out of him and causes his penis to swell - in arousal, of course. I yank down the boxers as well, then grab his dick, lift it up, and place the leather paddle under his balls, as if this were table tennis.

He is now very excited, and I take some time to play with his testes, rolling them around on the paddle, pressing it up lightly into his groin, then finally lower it until they're barely touching it before giving them the tiniest whack. Rodney's natural reaction, of course, is to try and curl up, but the leather manacles prevent this. I tilt the paddle to and fro, softly bouncing his balls some more. The groans are more from pleasure than pain; it's time to stop and move on to the main course.

I step back behind him, out of his field of view, and make him wait. To his credit, he doesn't utter a word. After some minutes, as he's shuffling uncomfortably, I give his cheeks a whack. He jumps in surprise and oofs.

I quickly follow with two more whacks, one on each side. "What do you say?"

"Excuse me?" he says, completely perplexed, but polite to the last. I try to keep the smile out of my voice. "What." *whack* "Do." *whack* "You." *whack* "Say?" *whack*. These four come in quick succession, but aren't very strong.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I don't know, Sir!" he yelps.

"You say 'One, Sir, thank you, Sir, may I have another?'. Except with the right number each time, of course. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," he nods, eagerly.

"Good. Let's try that again."

I smack his ass again, hard enough to make his cheeks jiggle. He groans, then says, "One, Sir, thank you, Sir, may I have another?"

I feign surprise. "We were already at eight, but sure, if you want to start over..."

Before he can react, I apply the paddle again, and he is wise enough to count it as two instead of wasting his time protesting. I vary the time between impacts, sometimes two in quick succession, sometimes over a minute inbetween, waiting to see what he does, but he remains attentive, and at full mast, and eventually we reach fifteen. He's sweating and breathing harder, and I can tell his buttcheeks are changing color - time to stop.

I place the paddle back on the wall. "Did you learn your lesson, boy?"

"Sir, I don't know, Sir!"

I can't help it, I have to smile. "Well, it'll have to do for today, boy. Now."

I step back behind him and apply some soothing cream to his behind. He may not notice in the heat of the session, but he'll be sore later, and this will help. I release him from the cross and turn him back around, pants and underpants still around his ankles, then drop the dominant role and offer him a hug, which he gratefully accepts. "You did good, Rodney," I say. "Thank you, Sir," he replies, and I don't correct him. He seems genuinely happy and secure for the first time.

"I have some homework for you, though. I know you want nothing more than to go and jack off right now" - he turns as beet red as is possible for a man of his complexion at my directness - "but I want you to not do that. I want it to be something special for you when you feel ready for another session. I can't make you, but I'd like it." I could have put a cock cage on him, of course, while he was restrained. Or I could talk him into one, right now, and he'd probably accept. But I don't think he needs it.

He looks at me earnestly and nods.

"Good boy," I say, then smack his ass one last time, with my bare hand. "Now go get your clothes out of the dryer before they're all crumpled again!"

[Bootmark]

Love the way this story is progressing! Great stuff

[Wedgieboy69]

For someone thats never done that with someone else before, Rodney seems like a natural sub. If anything a little too obedient for still being unbroken. A well behaved sub takes half the fun out of it

[Red86]

Blessing's calm demeanor with Steveven and how he handled him was rather funny. Sounds like even his neighbors didn't exactly like him and thought he deserved that treatment

Also found it funny how he just introduced Rodney to his dungeon and Rodney being pretty open about it considering what he just went through the night before. No doubt blessing and Rodney will have an interesting friendship/relationship!

[blackbound]

[mention]Bootmark[/mention], glad you like it!

[mention]Wedgieboy69[/mention], sure seems like only one of Blessing's little traps has worked. So far.

[mention]Red86[/mention], sometimes writing the bullies is fun, sometimes writing about smacking the bullies down is fun. We'll see more of their relationship developing, leading directly into the existing story.

[blackbound]

PART 4
ONE WEEK LATER

I was planning to make Rod wait until he gave up and came begging to me for release, but it seems like there's no limit to his patience, and I feel increasingly bad about my coercion - he's not a client asking for it, after all.

Over the week, he's gradually opened up, and turned out not just to be an incredible cook, but has volunteered to do other housework. He's been growing out his hair some, and I've complimented him on how good it looks on him. He's also looked in on me working out a few times, but not done anything himself. I might have an avenue for him there, but he's got to ask, I'm not going to bodyshame him.

He jumps at the chance of a session, and so I lead him into the dungeon, and I make him strip. I suggest a collar, and he willingly accepts. Just to be entirely sure, I restate the safe words. But he surprises me by asking to be gagged.

"I can do that, but I prefer to wait until we're a little into the session, just to be sure."

He agrees, and I shackle him to the cross again, facing me this time. I pick up a blindfold and slide it over his eyes. "This way, you won't--"

I interrupt myself. Something's not right. Rodney's breathing unsteadily, and I snatch the blindfold back off half a second before he says "yellow". His eyes are huge, and I immediately start to undo the manacles.

"No, wait," he says. "It's just... I'm afraid of the dark. Well, not of the dark," he confusingly corrects himself, "I'm afraid of not seeing. My mom and aunt both went blind from a hereditary disease. I haven't even thought about it in forever. But I can't wear that blindfold. I'm sorry. I'm such a loser."

"This isn't your fault at all!" I reassure him. "We can do it without. It's just more fun when you don't know what's coming."

"Is there anything else we can try?" he asks. I admire his tenacity, and think for a moment.

"Be right back," I say, and go to my video game collection. I pick out The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which comes with joke "peril-sensitive sunglasses" that, in the game's fiction, darken when there's danger so you can't see it. Obviously the item in the game package is just black cardboard in the shape of, well, sunglasses.

I return to Rod and put them on him after demonstrating them. "How's this?"

"Seems fine," he says, "I can't see you but there's still light."

"I'll have to keep your head in place, though, so they don't fall off. We'll experiment with some more options later if you like." With Rod's assistance, I push the cross closer to the vertical beam behind him, then use some rope around his forehead and the beam to immobilize it.

"You alright?" I ask.

"Yes, Sir!"

Now I'm in a bit of a bind. With the cross up against the beam, I don't have easy access to his behind. Time for a change of plans, then.

I pick up a flogger and place it on his head, the leather strands falling over his face like a dreadlock wig. He inhales the smell, getting excited.

"Have you been a good boy? Not touched yourself the entire week?"

"Yes, Sir!"

I grab him by the balls, not too roughly. He stifles a yelp. I roll them in my hand, then squeeze a little. I can hear his breathing get more labored.

"Alright, I think you've earned a gag. Which one do you want?"

"Your choice, Sir!"

I pretend to take my time selecting one for him, but I already know what I'll do. I peel off my socks, approach him, and tell him to open wide. When he does, I shove the bundle in his mouth, then follow up with two strips of duct tape in an X shape. Obviously this gag depends on Rod's cooperation, but I want him to be able to eject it if there's another problem, and tell him as much. I also establish new safe"words" now that he can't speak, and make sure I recognize both.

When I step back, I can see that he is toweringly erect, his cock pulsing with his heartbeat. Is that how much he's enjoying my socks? Interesting.

I start working him over, alternating between lightly flogging his chest and sides and teasing his dripping member with the leather strands of the implement, making sure not to push him over the edge. Even when I increase the intensity, it doesn't go down. When I finally stop, he's begging me to keep going, and even after I wait five minutes, his erection doesn't show any sign of abating.

I take his makeshift blindfold off and free first his head, then his limbs from the cross. He looks at me quizzically, standing there passively. "Hands behind your back," I order, and he complies. I tie them with a few turns of rope, then pick up a roll of bondage tape and wrap over his existing gag, covering his lower face. I help him lie down on a mat, then quickly apply a snug hogtie, and roll him on his side.

"I'll be back in a second. No humping the mat!" I warn him, then pop outside and pick up a pair of my used socks from the hamper, putting them on.

I sit down next to him and put my left foot in his face, and my right on his dick. I make him inhale the scent of the one and start stroking him with the other. "Warn me when you're ready to come," I say, just as his entire body stiffens and he starts to ejaculate.

It takes a while before he's done.

"What did I just say?" I demand.

He mumbles what might be an apology. I remove the rope connecting his hands and feet and pull him upright, make him hop over to the bench, then lay his upper body on top of it.

"That was very naughty of you, boy. I think you need another lesson."

This time his utterance sounds like "yes, Sir." I take off my socks, tie them together and over his nose, and give him an old-fashioned bare-handed spanking. He's hard again immediately and throughout.

When I feel like he's had enough, I apply the soothing cream again. I pull him fully onto the bench, then remove the socks and his gag.

"Thank you, Sir, that was amazing," he says.

"You've done really well, Rodney," I say. "Do you want to be hogtied as you come back down to Earth?"

He has a different suggestion, though, so I help him hop up the stairs with his bound legs, ignoring the elevator. To his obvious embarrassment, he needs a minute or two to recover from the exertion before hopping on into the living room, where he spends the next hour frogtied with one pair of socks crammed into his mouth - no tape - and me rubbing another pair over his face from the comfort of my chair. Eventually, he has to spit them out and ask for release due to a leg cramp. I untie him immediately and massage him back into shape, and the session is over for real.

[Pup Wingletang]

You do like to sneak these new stories out without warning [mention]blackbound[/mention]!

Now that I've spotted it I'm as engaged as ever. Nice to see the origin story of Blessing and Rodney - it'll be interesting to see how Rodney evolves into the person we see in the previous story but he definitely seems to have fallen on his feet in this one.

Definitely get points for the 'Hitchhiker' reference although I must confess I'd not come across the video game. Great that Blessing can think on his feet and come up with a way to work with Rodney's phobia.

[blackbound]

You do like to sneak these new stories out without warning @blackbound!

I had the feeling I was forgetting something, dammit. You may have missed two other shorts then:

Nocturnal Emissions
No Good Deed

Definitely get points for the 'Hitchhiker' reference although I must confess I'd not come across the video game. Great that Blessing can think on his feet and come up with a way to work with Rodney's phobia.

Here's what the sunglasses look like, if it helps:

[Xtc]

. . . and back down to earth.

Keep 'em coming - - - so to speak.

[blackbound]

. . . and back down to earth.

Keep 'em coming - - - so to speak.

Sorry, I completely forgot to reply to this. Next one's coming right now - thanks for being on board.

[blackbound]

PART 5

Rod seems pensive over dinner. "I really should get into shape, shouldn't I?" he muses. "Those stairs were an eye-opener. I'll never have my own lil man to play with if I look like shit."

That's a lot of things at once, and he looks at me patiently but inquisitively as I chew slowly, organizing my thoughts. I decide to be honest.

"First of all, you don't look like shit. You're a good-looking guy with a bit too much weight and too little definition. Nothing that working out can't fix in no time."

He's taken no offense, just regards me attentively with his intense eyes. "I must admit you surprised me just now, though, you want to top someone?"

"Well, I'm really into foot and impact stuff, obviously. And I like being gagged." He blushes a little. "But getting tied up? I'll take it as part of the play, but I'd like to have a boyfriend to tie up so I can worship his feet, or wrap his face in my socks or whatever else he likes..."

"So all the rope stuff is there just in case? Now that's what I call being prepared," I joke. A smile, then a grin, lights up his face. "Well, you never know," he says.

"So, if you were serious about getting more in shape, I have two friends I can introduce you to. The only kink-friendly stylist and workout trainer in town, maybe the state. I'll make sure they give you a friendly rate."

I'll make sure they do it for free while he's job-hunting. I can't help it - I love Rodney like I would a younger brother I never had, and he instinctively understands we aren't and won't be boyfriends or lovers, just housemates with bondage benefits.

- * -

I drive him to his first appointment, but decide not to accompany him inside. He insists on going back by public transport so as to not inconvenience me, and I relent eventually.

When he comes back, he's positively glowing. He excitedly tells me about his makeover - "he even did my nails," he marvels, showing off his manicured and subtly lacquered nails, and six-month weight loss goal. His new haircut looks really good, too, and he blushes when I compliment his new look.

"Ok, go on," I say. "Ask the question. Everyone does."

"Are those really their names?" he blurts out.

"Technically, it's their middle names, they don't go by..." -- I try to recall -- "...Akporovwovwo and Ahwinahwi, just like I don't go by Eghwrudjakpor."

"You Najja boys are weird," he laughs.

"Oh, just because you have no culture?" I shoot back. "Better not make fun of our names, Rodney, or I'll have to spank you." I pretend to trail off, and add, "except that's exactly what you want, so I'm *not* going to."

"As you say, Eghwrudjakpor," he replies. Whatever Freedom and Promise have done has massively boosted his self-confidence right away.

I snatch his wallet and before he can stop me, I've gotten a good look at his middle name (and birthdate, you never know).

"Rodney Mboya, huh," I say, handing it back. "Well, mBOYa, I was going to offer you some additional incentive for your goals, but if you're going to be this unruly..."

"I'm sorry, Sir," -- there it is again -- "I was out of line."

"Get down to the dungeon and fetch me two lengths of rope," I command. He does as I ask, and when he returns, I have him strip to his underwear, pocketing his socks. I bind him hand and foot, then make him hop down the stairs back to the dungeon, ensuring he can't fall and hurt himself. When we arrive, I have him sit on his bound ankles, with his thighs spread. I know it's uncomfortable for him, but have afforded him the luxury of a mat.

I pull on black leather gloves, then pull down the front of his boxers.

I retrieve a box and open it so he can see what's inside. "Do you know what this is, boy?" I ask.

"I think I can guess, Sir," he replies. "A chastity cage?"

"Now, Rod" - I use his name and look him directly in the eyes to make sure he knows I mean what I'm saying - "this is something I'm offering to you as an extra incentive to hit your goal. I will not be disappointed if you refuse, or treat you any differently. But if you want, I'll put this on you, and take it off once you've reached your goal. Or, of course, any time before that if you feel like you can't or don't want to keep going with it. I need to be sure you know that there's no pressure."

My phone alerts me to the doorbell ringing. "Be right up!" I tell the postman via the app, then quickly bunch up Rod's socks and shove them into his willing mouth. "Take some time to think about it, I'll be right back."

I make sure to chat with the mailman some, then waste some additional time before going back to the dungeon. Rodney kneels there patiently, waiting for me to pull the socks from his mouth. I do so right after placing the newly-arrived cardboard box near him.

"I want to do it. For you... and for myself."

I kiss his forehead. "I'm so proud of you. Ok, today is the 16th of July. Your goal is six months from now?" He nods.

I have very little problem putting the metal device on his cock. I deliberatly picked a larger one that won't cause him discomfort, just act as a reminder of his pledge.

When he's all locked up, I put the key on a thin chain that I hang around his neck, then push the socks back into his mouth and secure them with some turns of the bondage tape. I kneel down behind him and take his throat in my left hand, his caged dick in my right. I massage his throat and he moans softly, so I move my hand up and clamp it over his mouth, playing with his head, while I start moving his cage back and forth as if I were masturbating him - but all I'm touching is the metal.

"Obviously, this particular cage won't stop you from coming if you put your mind to it. It just won't be satisfactory." He's swelling inside the cage now, filling it out nicely. I can feel his quickened breath on my hand despite the glove as I keep manipulating him like a doll. I pinch his nostrils between my fingers, cutting it off, then let him breathe again. He doesn't protest or use a safeword, so I continue doing it, only stopping when I see he's close to blowing his load.

I move to his front, picking up a feather, then use its shaft to stroke his, applying more or less pressure as I see fit. Again, I bring him close to the edge, then stop. He's begging with puppy eyes, but I shake my head no, and he demurs.

I give it some minutes before I unwrap the tape from his mouth and remove the socks.

"That was intense," he says.

"Not letting you come is not a punishment. The decision is in your hands from now on. But while I have you here..."

He's been in obvious discomfort for a bit now, so I help him get up and untie his legs, allowing him to sit on a stool instead. I open the cardboard box and extract a few new items I ordered: various not-quite-blindfolds.

"If you're up for experimenting, we can see what you can handle."

- * -

It turns out that anything that lets a little light through is fine - little holes in a leather mask, a diving mask with sanded visor (which, since it also covers the nose, makes for exciting breathplay opportunities), or a rope wrap. Good enough for me, and I ominously promise Rodney I will forward this information to Freedom and Promise before releasing his hands and ending the impromptu session.

He surprises me by lifting the chain with the chastity cage key over his head and offering it to me. "Please hold it for me, Sir. Blessing." he says.

"It'll be an honor," I reply. Dumb, but I don't know what else to say.

[Xtc]

When I read the phrase, "No pressure", I thought I knew how I would make a joking reply but you spoilt it later! You, Sir, are a dastard! (Thinks to self: Check spelling.)

[blackbound]

When I read the phrase, "No pressure", I thought I knew how I would make a joking reply but you spoilt it later! You, Sir, are a dastard! (Thinks to self: Check spelling.)

Dastardly Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, just for you. Should've left that particular option open, though!

[Xtc]

Not at all, Good Sir. There's nothing more annoying than someone trying to write one's stories for one.

[Pup Wingletang]

Nice to see Rodney getting onto the right path and gaining confidence and a little extra incentive always helps. Definitely a bit of a different feel to some of your other stories but well written as always and enjoyable to read.

[Straitjacketed]

Just popped by to say I'm enjoying this experiment of yours, [mention]blackbound[/mention].

For many of us, finding a partner into - or even tolerant of - kink/bondage play is a massive Holy Grail. Maybe that's part of the reason I really like moments of dialogue, conversation and just ordinary human interaction mixed into TUG stories.

Reading with great interest!

[blackbound]

[mention]Xtc[/mention], if you like you can pretend the line "well, maybe a little pressure" was in there somewhere

[mention]Pup Wingletang[/mention], I'm glad you enjoy it.

[mention]Straitjacketed[/mention], thanks for popping by. You nailed what I was trying to do here - after reading the tropes thread in TUG Talk, I decided to challenge myself to incorporate some of the stuff I'd not really done. I'm happy that it's ringing true for you.

Final part coming tomorrow, also in a new-to-me format.