Jax and Ryder had been best friends since elementary school—now two cocky, athletic twenty-one-year-olds who pushed each other harder than anyone else. Jax was the taller one, broad-shouldered with a thick dark mustache that he’d started rocking after High school. Ryder had wavy brown hair, a trimmed beard, and the kind of easy grin that made people underestimate how competitive he really was. They were at the gym again that humid July afternoon, sweat pouring off them as they finished a brutal chest session.
“Yo, you hear about that guy they call the Lockmaster?” Ryder said, wiping his face with his tank top. “Supposedly some twisted fuck who takes dudes off the street and breaks them into total slaves in like twelve hours. Mind, body, the works.”
Jax barked a laugh, racking the bar. “Bullshit. Nobody’s breaking me in twelve hours. I’d wreck that dude.”
“Same,” Ryder grinned. “Guy couldn’t touch us.”
They both laughed… until the dare slipped out.
Neither of them could resist a dare. It was their thing.
“I dare you to go find him,” Jax said, eyes gleaming.
Ryder shot back instantly, “I dare you.”
Jax’s stomach tightened, but he played it cool. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll find him. Then when you lose the coin toss it will be three months of you being my slave for the rest of the summer if he actually pulls it off. But he won’t.”
They found the guy through a shady contact they had that weekend. The Lockmaster lived in an old warehouse on the edge of town. When they showed up, the man who answered the door was bigger than both of them—calm, muscular, shaved head, intense eyes. He listened to their stupid bet without blinking.
“Interesting,” he said. “One of you stays. The other leaves. If I break him, he belongs to the other for the summer. Full ownership. No limits.”
“How doe wee decide who stays” Ryder asked.
The man pulled out a coin and had then stand facing each other.
He yelled call it pointing to Jax.
“Heads” Jax yelled instinctively
The man flipped the coin and showed it to the tow men..Tails.
Ryder clapped him on the back, trying to hide his excitement. “See you in twelve hours, slave boy. Don’t let him break you too bad.”
The Lockmaster shut the heavy door behind Ryder. Then he turned to Jax with a small, knowing smile.
The breaking began immediately.
Jax was cuffed, hooded, and dragged into a soundproofed room lined with every kind of restraint imaginable. The Lockmaster didn’t waste time on conversation. Within the first hour Jax was strapped to a bondage bench, muscles straining, while the man methodically shaved his head completely smooth with a straight razor, then his face until only the thick mustache remained—it felt like a mark of ownership.
“You thought you were unbreakable,” the Lockmaster murmured as he locked a heavy steel collar around Jax’s neck. “By morning you’ll be begging to serve your friend like a good dog.”
The next hours blurred into a relentless cycle of sensory overload and mind games. Jax was edged for hours in tight rubber bondage, a thick gag stretching his jaw while electro pads tortured his cock and balls. Every time he got close, the stimulation stopped. The Lockmaster played “life-ending” fear games—tight vacuum bags, breath control hoods, near-blackout suspension—bringing Jax right to the edge of panic before pulling him back and forcing him to thank his new Master.
Hypnotic audio looped in his ears while he was plugged and fucked with progressively larger toys. By hour ten, Jax was broken and sobbing into the gag, repeating mantras the Lockmaster fed him: I am a slave. My body belongs to Ryder. My holes exist for use.
The final hours were pure psychological demolition. Jax was sealed inside a heavy rubber sleep-sack, completely immobilized, while the Lockmaster whispered future plans—how Ryder would use him, fuck him, own him. When the twelve hours ended, Jax was a shivering, dripping, mind-fucked mess. His head was freshly shaved smooth, his body marked with rope burns and ligature marks, and his eyes had that distant, obedient glaze.
Ryder drove home in silence, heart pounding. At first, he told himself it would just be funny—making Jax do all the housework, cook, clean, maybe some embarrassing chores in nothing but an apron. But the more he thought about it, the darker his mind went.
By the time he pulled into their shared apartment his mind was racing with ideas. Ryder unscrewed Jax’s bed frame from the floor. He dragged the mattress out and bolted the metal frame directly to the wall like a permanent bondage rack—chains and attachment points ready. He’d ordered rush-delivery bondage gear online while waiting: heavy leather cuffs, a thick rubber hood, chastity cages, a fucking machine, and several bottles of lube. The packages were shipped, same day delivery.
Ryder was straight. He’d never wanted a guy before. But the thought of his best friend—now his slave—on his knees, head bobbing on his cock, throat bulging… it made him rock hard. He kept imagining pissing down Jax’s throat while the broken man looked up at him with total submission.
Twelve hours later the doorbell rang. Ryder opened the door. The Lockmaster dropped Jax off exactly on time. Lockmaster gave some instructions to keep Jax compliant and left. The once-cocky jock was naked except for the steel collar, a locked chastity cage, and a thick rubber plug stretching his ass. His head gleamed under the apartment lights, freshly shaved. His eyes were downcast, cheeks flushed with shame and lingering arousal.
“Welcome home, slave,” Ryder said, voice low and thick with new authority. He clipped the leash to the collar and gave it a firm tug, pulling Jax inside. “On your knees.”
Jax dropped instantly, the fight completely gone. The twelve-hour breaking had worked.
“Do you know who owns you boy?”
Jax looked up at his best mate. The training and torture slamming into him. “You do, Master Ryder, Sir.”
Ryder’s hand rested on his best friend’s smooth head. “Good slaveboy. Housework can wait.. I have other plans. First… you’re going to show me how well that mouth works. Then I’m going to fuck you on that wall rack I built. And when I’m done, you’re going to drink every drop of piss I give you.”
Jax’s voice was hoarse but obedient. “Yes, Sir.”
The summer had just begun. And Ryder was already planning all the ways he would use his new permanent slave.
gummygunk
pixelskylines
blakekathryn
