sucht einen strengen Herrn ⛓️⛓️🤤💦⛓️⛓️⛓

If you take all the right steps, you can become one too!!

“Just last week he became a bonifide ‘sex slave’. I’m now trying to decide if we want to push further—to making him into a ‘sex pig’ or ‘sex fiend’.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Those are the three different designations. In many ways they make a progression: if you attain ‘sex slave’ you might work to become a ‘sex pig’. If you get to 'sex pig’ you might be able to achieve 'sex fiend’.”

“What’s the difference? Sounds to me like just different terms for the same thing.”

“Oh no, in fact they’re really quite distinct. See, I may want to keep this guy—” he puts his hand on the young guy’s shoulder and shakes him a little for effect, “—as a slave because if he were to become a pig or fiend, I would have to make sure he was in the right environment where he had a lot of access to men. I couldn’t just lock him up whenever I’m away like I do now.”

“Okay, you’ve got my curiosity. Start from the beginning.” What started as a small exchange of words a minute ago is rapidly turning into a bizarre conversation.

“What you see before you is my sex slave. My slave here has gone through a great deal of conditioning. We started with him about five weeks ago. He’s gone through a continual regimen of hypnosis, edging, programming—every time we would reach one level of mind control, we would dig deeper, break down new barriers, implant new suggestions and triggers, walk him through different scenarios.”

“You said 'we started with him’… Who is 'we’?”

“I can’t tell you that yet. Suffice to say it takes more attention than one person can do alone. Anyway, I had to be present for much of it, since he had to be programmed to see me as his master—the ultimate authority. But you have to understand, the regimen that I’m talking about, it is almost continuous. Eighteen or twenty hours a day. Sometimes he could be strapped down with a hypnotic recording being piped into his eyes and ears with a visor and headphones, but most of the work had to be more hands-on. Much more than I alone could do.”

“Wow. And this goes on for weeks?”

“It goes on until we break through that final barrier. The time it takes differs between individuals, but to attain complete and total mind control—it can’t be done any faster than three or four weeks.”

“So, what does 'total control’ entail?”

“There are a few things. First, I can immediately and instantaneously put him into the deepest hypnotic trance. From there, he will do anything I ask him to do. Anything I say will become an absolute and imperative truth in his mind.

“Second, most of the time I keep him in a state where he has no identity or memory of the past. Sometimes it’s necessary when he’s in public to let him temporarily act like his original self—so old friends and family don’t file a missing person’s report—but most of the time he doesn’t know anything except that he’s my sex slave. Isn’t that right my pet?”

The slave nodded, a little dully.

“Slave, you’re going to come out of your trance. I want you to be more 'present’. If we ask you a question, I want you to be able have a conversation with us, okay?”

“Okay master!” the slave blinked a couple times. The blank glaze in his eyes was replaced by a bit of a sparkle. He looked at his master and me alternatively.

“Can I ask him a question?” I asked, cautiously.

“Sure. Ask him anything.”

“What’s your name?” I went for the obvious one.

The slave shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “I don’t have one. But you can call me 'slave’ if you want. Most people do.”

“Do you enjoy being a slave?” I asked.

“Oh yes,” his answer had no hesitation, “It makes me very happy.”

“Why does it make you happy?”

“Hmm. Well…” he started slowly, searching for the explanation, “Whenever my master tells me something… when he tells me what to think… I don’t know, it just makes me so happy. It’s hard to describe. I love the feeling when he’s putting thoughts into my mind. It’s like being filled with something wonderful. It’s sort of like when he’s filling my ass with his cock—there isn’t anything more wonderful.”

Wow. Whoever expected a sex slave to be so poetic?

“Do you remember anything before you became a slave?”

“Not… really. I remember a little bit of the process while I was becoming a slave. Some memories were fainter, some were clearer. The edging was excruciating—wanting to cum, not being allowed to and yet continually being stroked and teased… and it seemed to go on forever! My favorite moment was when my will and my mind were completely broken. You see, it’s all a process of being put in a state where at first you can’t help but try to resist so that you can be broken, and then they start all over again. But the final bit when the last of my willpower snapped. That was amazing. I think I’ll always remember that.”

“How could you tell?”

“Oh, it’s hard to explain, but it was obvious to me when it actually happened. It’s like the first time you ever came—you know, when you were a kid, messing around with yourself, bringing yourself closer to this strange feeling, and out of the blue you crossed that magic threshold and you started ejaculating. That strange sense of being carried into a place you had never been before—it was like that, but with my mind. I just knew that I would never need to be broken again because I would never be able to resist ever again.”

The master interrupted us, “So that’s essentially what it means to be a sex slave, using our formal designation. Shall I tell you what it means to become a “sex fiend” instead?“

I nodded.

“You have to start by first becoming a sex slave. We have to achieve that mental conditioning as a foundation. But from there it gets very different. Although people have the ability to put you in a hypnotic state periodically, you don’t have a single master anymore.

“Well…” he corrected himself, “you do have a master, but it’s not any person: it’s your cock.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. You get conditioned so that when you first start getting aroused, your level of horniness just keeps building and building until your mind can’t do anything but act on your sexual impulses. You’ll fuck or suck or fondle any guy that’s around you. You’ll agree to pretty much anything as long as it leads to more sex and more intensity—as long as you do exactly what your hungry cock wants you to do.

"The other thing about being a 'sex pig’ is that we take your existing fetishes—we dig them out of your head, any little hidden desires you once had, and we blow them up to the most extreme state so that they become an obsession. If you thought that rubber was kind of hot, your cock—your new master—will turn you into a rubber fanatic: you’ll try to be dressed head-to-toe in it, and if you see anyone wearing rubber gear, you’ll be driven mad with desire… and you’ll act without hesitation on that desire.”

I’ll confess, my own cock had been stirring during this entire conversation, but it started getting rock hard at this point. I had hoped nobody would notice, but I saw the master glance down and smile.

“We also plant some new fetishes and memories in your brain that you never had before. But we program your memory so that you think they had been always part of your core identity since childhood. Unlike the sex slave who has no identity, the sex pig may become a leather pig or a rubber pig. He may become a bodybuilder or get full-body tattoos or whatever we choose in implant on his personality profile. And sometimes we’ll change his identity month to month. But one thing is certain: he will have a lot of sex with a lot of people.”

“So, what’s the difference between that and a 'sex fiend’? That was the third and final state of progression, right?” I had to ask.

“Ah well… if you’re a sex pig, you’ll have sex whenever the opportunity presents itself. It won’t be unusual to have sex two or three times a day, and each time it may go on for hours. It depends on the opportunities and the situations. But in between sex, you might be going out for a pizza or working out at the gym or watching some television—or you may 'moonlight’ as a sex slave and sleep in someone’s cage. My point is that there’s something that you do in between your sexual experiences.

"But with the sex fiend, we take it all a step further. And it takes a lot of conditioning and some physical alteration and radical drug therapies to get there. Have you ever seen a chain smoker? I mean a real serious chain smoker, who is so addicted to nicotine that after one cigarette he can’t go more than five minutes before he desperately needs that next cigarette?”

“Yeah, a long time ago. But I once met someone like that.”

“Well, we actually synthesize a real physical addiction to sex—it’s biologically tied to the same parts of the brain that respond to nicotine or even morphine, with the same intensity and the same build-up speed as that of a chain smoker. So, let’s say you’ve just had your third orgy of the day, each lasting an hour or two; you’ve all had your orgasms. Everyone goes his own way, and you go get a glass of water, maybe some food. You’ll sit down, and within five or ten minutes your cock will start to get hard and you’ll feel that same intense horniness—the one we programmed into you when we were making you into a sex pig. And you’ll do anything you can to find some release and—oh…” he stopped, suddenly remembering something.

“What?” I ask.

“I forgot to mention. Back in the beginning. Back when we’re conditioning you and making you into a sex slave…”

“Yeah?”

“Hey slave, whip out your cock of a second.”

The slave, who was listening as intently as I was, immediately obeys, unsnapping the leather front-plate from his harness and holds his erect cock in one hand.

The master instructs him: “Feel how hard your cock is. Squeeze it. Yeah, it feels good, doesn’t it?”

I notice some people are looking over at us, but nobody gets up to do anything. People in this leather bar have seen worse, and it gets pretty raunchy here on Thursday nights. The slave squeezes his cock with both hands, and it gets really stiff. “Yeah, it feels good.” he says.

“You’re feeling really horny right now. You’ll do anything for release, right?”, the slave nods and he continues, “Okay, so go ahead and jack off.”

The slave stops immediately and looks up at him, suddenly tortured and confused.

“I can’t”

“Why not?” the master asks, glancing over at me to indicate that he was demonstrating something very important.

“It’s the first rule—the rule I can never break, even when instructed.”

“Tell our friend here what that first rule is.”

The slave stammers, “I’m not allowed to masturbate—not in any form. I must always depend on someone else to bring me sexual stimulation.”

“Very good. You may try to put your cock away. Oh, that’s not going to work.” There’s no way the slave’s cock could ever fit back behind that leather strap now that it had stiffened straight out. He digs into his bag and hands the slave a bigger leather jock. “Here, put this on instead.”

The master then turns back to me, “The point I was trying to make is that whether you’re a 'sex slave’, a 'sex pig’, or a 'sex fiend’, your brain is programmed for it to be impossible for you to relieve yourself. So, as I was saying, if you’re a sex fiend and you’ve just had this long and intense session of sex, and you’re recovering and five or ten minutes later your cock starts growing again, you find yourself back at the starting line. You get insanely aroused to the point that you can’t string two thoughts together. All you can do is figure out how to find someone to have sex with. Someone to help you get 'release’ because you’re not allowed to take care of things yourself.”

“Do you ever sleep?” I ask

“Yes, after a long day of nearly constant sex, after one of your orgasms, you’ll be so tired that you simply pass out from exhaustion. But even that is problematic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the physical withdrawal starts to build while you’re sleeping. You won’t be able to go more than about three or four hours you invariably get woken up by a raging hard-on. I’ve heard that all your dreams center around intense sexual themes. Sex fiends sometimes learn how to take quick cat-naps between sessions when they can. You see, the point is that you are always on the edge—never able to free your mind from constant sexual arousal. Your life feels like a never-ending, perpetual edging session.”

I just stood there trying to visualize what that would be like. For a while I was at a loss of words. Then I asked, "So how did your slave sign up for this in the first place? I mean, well… did he give consent in the beginning?”

The guy looked at me with a strange intense smile that made me squirm. “If you’re asking if I kidnapped him and pressed him into service, no, that’s not how it works. It’s actually much simpler than that.”

He continues: “In a couple of minutes, my slave and I are going to leave this club. It’s been good for him to get out and get a whiff of what the outside world looks like, but it’s time to get him back into his cage. Now imagine that you just walked out with us. There’s no harm in that, right? You’ve been enjoying hanging with us, so you might just walk out with us while we go around the block to where my truck is. Actually, if you want to talk any more, you’ll have to walk out with us because it’s really time for us to go.”

Then he says to his slave, “It’s time to go home now. You’re really excited to get back home, aren’t you? That cock of yours must really be raging. Aren’t you eager to find out what I’m going to do to you?”

“Yes!” the slave exclaims.

“Okay then, it’s time for you to go back into a trance now. We’re going to talk among ourselves, and I want you to be completely unaware of what I’m saying. You’re my happy mindless robot now. You’ll execute any command I give you, but otherwise your mind is going to sleep. The only thing you’ll be aware of is that constantly growing hunger in your cock and how it consumes your mind.”

The slave’s eyes go glassy again, like they were when I first saw him. The master leads us all out of the Eagle into the night air. It’s pretty late and the club is tucked away by an ally, so things outside are pretty quiet. Only a couple people stare at us—the master in his full-body skin-tight outfit and the slave with nothing but his boots and his jock. I almost feel out-of-place with my regular street clothes.

As we walk down the sidewalk the master continues, “So imagine you’re walking along here with us. In a minute we’re going to get to my truck. Inside the truck I’ve got a fair number of fun things. Among them are some mitts that are made to cover your fists and hold your hands into tight balls. If you were to keep walking with us to my truck and just stood there for a while, I might bring out my fist mitts.”

He turns into a small parking garage while he talks, and we follow along.

“You wouldn’t be forced to do anything, but if you voluntarily put your hands into these mitts and curled your fingers into fists, my slave and I would show you what it feels like to wear them—how strangely thrilling they feel as they hold your hands into tight balls.”

We approach a large black truck. One of those modern ones with the fingerprint sensors on the door handles. The master opens a door to the back seat and whispers something quietly to the slave’s ear. The slave gets into the back seat and rummages around.

I admit, he’s done a good job of building an exhilarating air of suspense. It’s been titillating going with him to his truck, while at the same time I feel like he’s trustworthy—a man of his word. Unsurprisingly, the slave emerges from the back seat with a pair of thick padded black gloves. Well, they almost look like gloves except that there aren’t any fingers on them and they’re shaped like small round balls, each with a little notched strap around the wrists. The master and slave each hold out one glove with the open end facing me, but they don’t do anything.

The master says, “As I said, you aren’t forced to do anything. We’re just presenting you the opportunity to see what they feel like. After you’ve tried them on, if you tell us to, we’ll take them off you, but after that we’ll have to leave you here because it’s about time for us to go.”

I guess there’s nothing wrong with see what these things feel like. I believe him when he says he would take them off afterwards if I asked. I trust him. So, I slip my fingers into them, curling my fingers into fists as my hands go in farther so they can be closed around the wrist. The master tells the slave to fasten the buckles. Then he says, “So there’s one more thing. And this is a promise.”

“The next item I have here is called a muzzle.” He holds up what looks like a series of leather straps and buckles attached at the center to a padded mouthpiece. He turns it upside down so I can see that the inside of the mouthpiece has a silicon gag protruding from it, shaped like the end of a penis.

“Doesn’t that look strangely enticing to you?” he asks, in the same calm, relaxed, serene voice that he has always spoken in. There’s something about his voice that I can’t place, but it makes me feel like I can trust him. “Now here’s where we come to what you’d call a 'fork in the road’. We’re not going to put this muzzle on you unless you want to try it. As I said, you’re perfectly safe. In a minute we have to leave, so we’ll have to take these fist mitts off of you and let you go on your way.

As he says this, the slave finishes buckling the second mitt into place. I test patting my padded fists together as they make a muffled thudding sound. The master then says, "Slave, undo his pants and show this nice man how deeply you can suck his cock.” The slave drops quietly to his knees, undoes my belt and starts lightly sucking my already stiff dick. The sensation is both wonderful and distracting. I rest my padded fists on his shoulders as I look up at the master, who is still holding that muzzle up, with its pecker-gag pointing up out of the mouthpiece.

“Now, as I said, it’s past time for my slave and me to leave. The only thing that would stop me from taking off those fists mitts right now and leaving would be if you put your mouth around the gag and sucked hard on it. If you did that, I would fasten these straps around your head. At any time, you could tell me to stop or even just grunt or shake your head and I would stop and remove it. Remember: I want you to feel safe. But if you didn’t… if you didn’t make any movement or sound, and if I pulled the last buckle into place and fastened these little locks, then things might go a little differently.

"If you tried on the muzzle and then climbed into the back seat of the truck, then I will tell you exactly what would happen: my slave and I would attach your mitts with these D-rings to the seatbelt buckles so you wouldn’t be able to get out. My slave would get into the back seat with you and would continue sucking your cock while we drove to our home—which would become your new home as well.

"I said there was a fork in the road, well that fork in the road happens at the moment that you climb into the back seat. If you did that voluntarily, then you would no longer be a free man. You would belong to me, and you would undergo training and conditioning to become a sex slave, just like this guy here. In fact, you two would spend a lot of time sharing the same cage.”

At this point, my head is sort of spinning as I stare at the gag.

The master goes on, “Okay, we’ve got to leave, so I’m going to have to take these mitts off.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I lower my head into the muzzle and suck on the gag, holding the mouthpiece into place.

The feeling of excitement is so amazing. My cock is so intensely stiff. I really want this experience to continue. He calls the slave up to help fasten the straps to my head, and they work quickly and efficiently. I know I’m still safe because I would have to first voluntarily climb into the back seat before anything really serious would happen.

My face is tightly covered by the muzzle, my mouth filled completely with the soft rubber gag. I try to grunt and discover that I really can’t make more than the softest purr. The master stops, hearing it and looks at me. “Do you want me to take it off? I’m going to take the muzzle off if you want. Slave, we need to free him quickly because we have to leave now. It’s past time we had to go.” I actually don’t want to take the muzzle off—not yet—but he’s about to abort the entire experience. I don’t want it to end yet!

I climb into the back seat and just like that I realize I just crossed that line from safely tantalizing flirtation to having just made a life-changing and irreversible choice.

The slave and master each take one of my fists and snap the mitts into some rings protruding from both sides of my seat. My arms are now held fast against my sides, my hands at my waist. The master closes the car door on my side, and the slave gets in on the other side.

It begins

The master goes over to the slave’s car door and, for a minute I can hear him whispering some instructions to the slave. He then closes the slave’s car door, gets into the driver’s seat and starts driving. The slave begins carrying out his instructions.

The slave finds a heavy padded blindfold and straps it over my eyes. Now I can’t see what he’s doing, but I can feel as he starts cutting the clothes off of my body with some sort of scissors or sheers. I keep very still so that I don’t get accidentally sliced open. After a couple minutes, all of my clothes have been removed.

The slave also wraps something that feels like rubber webbing around my ankles and calves, wrapping them tightly together until I’m completely immobilized. Finally, he resumes sucking my cock, showing just how deeply he can swallow it. Again, I try to moan but no sound emerges from the pecker gag that’s in my mouth.

The master starts talking. “So, you might be asking yourself if you really gave me your consent or if you just encountered someone really good at the 'power of suggestion’. To tell you the truth, there’s not that much of a difference. I showed you that there was a very narrow path—a very specific set of actions you would have to take to become a slave and you did all of them. It didn’t feel like hypnosis to you… you simply walked that narrow path that I laid out in front of you, right?

"If I had told you in the beginning that I might take you and turn you into a sex slave—one who would voluntarily give up all rights and all self-determination—you would have chuckled and walked away. But I saw that look in your eyes. Just as I saw that look in your fellow slave’s eyes over a month ago. I knew you would be receptive to my will. And here we are.

"So, I’m going to start conditioning you. To be honest, the conditioning and programming—it’s a very slow and gradual road—the conditioning and programming has already begun. I’m going to tell you some things, and you may not believe them, or you may not follow my instructions. That’s fine. That’s actually good. It’s how things are supposed to start out. Remember, I told you that this process is about getting you to resist so that I can break you, and then getting you to resist again so I can break your will even more.

"So, I’m going to tell you some things, and you won’t believe them right now, but that’s the way it’s supposed to begin.

"The first thing you need to know is that you cannot and must not ever try to masturbate. No matter how bad your cock is screaming for release, even if you tried to wrap your fingers around it, they simply wouldn’t obey the commands coming from your brain. By the way, this is one reason I’m starting you out in those fist mitts—because that way you’ll start out physically unable to pump your cock, and you’ll stay that way until I’m pretty sure your mind has wrapped itself around that first and most imperative command.

"The second thing is simple: I am your master and you are my slave. What I say is the truth, even if it seems to conflict with something you once thought. If I tell you that your hair was once blond then that’s the truth. If you thought you once remembered it being brown, those thoughts will eventually burn away and you’ll know you were always blond.”

The truck makes some turns and eventually it feels like we’re climbing some winding canyon road.

“When I’m not around, others may tell you what to do and you might find yourself doing what they say. Or you might find yourself doing the strangest things all of a sudden. You’ll learn not to worry about it. You see, I’m going to plant a lot of hypnotic suggestions and triggers deep in your brain Some people will know about these and will take advantage of them in order to control you and play with your mind. It’ll be disorienting at first, but eventually you’ll learn not to worry and to just go with whatever happens.”

The truck comes to a stop and the master gets out and opens the back door. He tells the slave—not me, but the other slave—to stop sucking my cock and to sit still for a moment. Then he says to me, “I’m going to let you hear this right now, but it’s not going to matter because within the next hour I’m going to expunge it all from your memory.”

He then says to the slave, “You are in the deepest trance now. What I tell you is going straight into the deepest part of your mind. You will always remember these instructions…”

I still can’t see anything since the slave had blindfolded me, but I imagine him sitting, looking at the master with that blank look on his face as he takes in new programming.

“First, this man who we’ve tied up and brought home is your fellow slave now. You will think of him as your brother, and I will refer to him as your brother. You two will often spend time together in the same cage.

"Today I will immediately begin his conditioning and programming. My initial task will be to turn him into a sex slave, but our goal is going be to take him much farther than that—to try to turn him into a sex pig and then ultimately a sex fiend. I will depend on you a lot to help us make this happen. In some ways you are graduating from a simple sex slave into my assistant. As you know, the conditioning we are going to do on your brother here will require long hours of continual edging and anal stimulation and that sort of thing. You know there are a lot of people who are going to help us with this task, but you and I will carry most of the burden.

"Now, whenever you see your brother here being conditioned, you will find yourself immensely excited. It will give you extreme pleasure any time you see him writhing, restrained, helpless. You will be fascinated, and that fascination will evolve into an obsession. At times when your brother is not around, you’ll think about him, see his face in your mind, fantasizing about him getting conditioned to be perpetually horny and surrendering all control to his cock. You will think of yourself as his cock’s secret ally, and you will scheme and figure out how to accelerate and intensify the process—to make him constantly horny, to release his inhibitions and make him purely a puppet to his own id.

"If you ever discover out what some of his hypnotic triggers are, you will 'leak’ them to other people who might be able to exploit them. When you find out what his fetishes are, you will make those fetishes your own—you’ll become whatever triggers him and makes him vulnerable.

"But here’s the thing: you’ll do all this in secret. This is what will make you the most excited about it all: he will think of you as his fellow slave—as his loyal brother in bondage—and he will grow to trust you and confide in you, and he won’t know your role in all this. You’ll be careful to make sure he doesn’t find out. If he does somehow learn something he shouldn’t, you’ll let me know so that we can reprogram his memories until he is unaware again.

"Now I want to you think back to half an hour ago, when you were tying him up here in the backseat, when you were wrapping his legs together like this, when you put the blindfold on him. You are going to remember having felt this huge sensation of excitement. It’s the first time you ever felt it, but you know you want to feel that sensation again. It all starts here. You will watch over your brother. You find yourself very attracted to him. You loved seeing his cock hard, and you look forward to the two of you being curled up together in your cage, gently caressing his cock while he sleeps. You’ll try to figure out how to innocently orchestrate situations where he gets restrained, blindfolded or muzzled or hooded. For example, you may find yourself feeling bold enough to ask us for some drugs that you might be able to slip into his drinking water, or squirt into his ass lube or otherwise get into his system so that you can plan some scenario where he’s helpless and vulnerable.”

Unterwürfig in das glückliche, strenge Gesicht des Masters schauen dürfen.😍🥰

Lord Dade Of Cumberland

I wrote this a while ago. I still have this dream sometimes. 

I go to the appointed place – an abandoned building in an unfamiliar city. The building has lain vacant for at least a decade, perhaps longer, and has been long since stripped of furniture or anything else that makes it look usable. I had to double-check the address several times before I went in, and when I went in it took me a few minutes to find the instructions that had been left there for me by my future Owner.

In the center of a cavernous room, lit only by an electric lantern, I find a small cage, and in that cage I find a pair of handcuffs, a set of leg irons, a gag, a locking isolation hood, and a letter. The letter is in an envelope with my name. I picked it up first and read it.

This is your last chance to back out. After you follow these instructions, you will become my permanent property and will remain as such for the remainder of your life. If you have any doubts, leave now. The opportunity will present itself again. If, however, you are ready to accept your life as a slave and to become a slave object, you are to place the leg irons around your ankles, put the gag in your mouth, put on the isolation hood, shut and lock the cage door, cuff your hands through the bars of the cage and behind your back, and wait. I will come to collect you shortly.

I know that if I walk away this time I will never work up the courage to come back. So I crawl inside the cage. First one leg cuff, then the next. A sick thrill goes through me as I hear the cuffs ratcheting, but I could still escape, if I wanted. The gag goes in next, a thick panel gag with a cock head that filled my entire mouth, and then what little light there is goes away as I place the leather hood over my head, pull the laces, affix the buckles, and finally stick the small padlocks in their places. But even like this I could escape still – I could wander around outside until someone found me and helped me…

But once I lock the cage door shut, I have sealed my fate. There’s nothing left to do but finish the instructions. I thread the handcuffs through the bars of the cage, clasping one wrist, and then another, until I am left completely immobile.

I’ve done it. There’s no way to back out now. I sit like this for what feels like an eternity, but in reality it is probably only six or seven minutes until I am dimly aware of noises outside of the cage. I feel the entire cage being hoisted onto a dolly, and I, cage and all, am carted roughly through the abandoned building, down a ramp, back outside (I feel the change in the air), and I’m finally lifted onto the back of a truck of some kind. Maybe a van or something, I can’t really tell.

Where am I going? I was never told. I was not told where my Owner lived. I was not told where I was going. I understood that that was part of the deal, that I would never have any clue where I was going.

He dives around for many, many hours. I grow very hungry in the meantime, and thirsty, and several times I cannot  contain my bladder and piss myself, but even though he stops at least six times, I am never asked how I am doing, and I’m not offered anything to drink or eat.

We finally stop. I think we’re in a garage, or something, but I can’t be sure. The cage is roughly pushed from the back of the vehicle and lands several feet below; I grunt in surprise by the force of me hitting the ground. The cage is loaded back onto the dolly, and it and I make a trip up a ramp, through a flat area, and then down another ramp – this ramp is much longer, so I assume we are heading into a basement of some sort.

I am unloaded. I hear the dolly being pulled away, and the cage door opens. Finally, after several minutes, my captor begins to unlock and unbuckle the isolation hood.

Even without the hood, it’s very dark. My captor sits in the shadows, and I am still unable to see his face clearly, but when he speaks finally, his voice is smooth and fluid, baritone and full of authority.

“You are now my slave,” he said. “You have forfeited any rights you once had. You are now an object, without rights. You will never again be free in your lifetime.”

I let the words sink in. I am still gagged, so I nod in acknowledgement.

He comes back with a pair of scissors, a full chastity belt, and what looks like a tube of epoxy. He slowly cuts away my clothes, leaving me restrained in the cage and now naked, revealing my fully erect penis. I understood going into this that chastity would be part of it, but now that I am looking at the chastity belt, I have misgivings.

It’s too late for that, however. He steps inside the cage to put the belt around my waist, slipping my cock into the sheath that is prepared for it, and after a surprisingly short amount of time I am completely belted, my cock locked in a steel pod that reveals only my testicles. Without preamble of any kind, he rubs the epoxy into every lock and crevice in the belt. He places the hood back around my head, buckles it, and leaves.

I drift in and out of sleep, constantly aware of the steel around my cock. I am awakened later by the buckles of the hood coming loose.

“The epoxy has dried,” he says. “You will never cum again, slave.”

I look down to see that he has a collar in his hands. The collar is thick steel, and the chain goes from the collar to the concrete floor. “You will have eleven feet of chain,” he says. “It is just long enough for you to reach the toilet. Once this collar goes on, I am going to seal it just like I sealed your chastity belt. You will never again leave this basement.”

I closed my eyes as I feel the collar go around my neck. The steel is cold, and heavy, and heavier still is the knowledge that it will define my entire existence as an eleven foot radius. The collar snaps closed, and he fills the hinges and lock with the same epoxy he used to make my chastity permanent.

Finally, heavy wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs. I am released from the temporary ones and from the cage just long enough to sit in position. The ankle cuffs are connected by a one-foot chain, but the wrist cuffs have only d-rings to attach locks and things. Both ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs are sealed permanently.

My wrists are locked behind me with a single padlock.

“I will come back later to feed it,” he says. “Its diet will consist of cold oatmeal mixed with energy shakes. It does not deserve to have food like a person.”

He puts the hood back on my head, and leaves. I am left, naked, gagged, chained, sealed in chastity, collared and bound, on the floor.

THERE ARE NO LIMITATIONS TO WHAT CAN or MAY BE DONE TO an Object. IT can be sold, traded, modified, altered, damaged, enhanced, or otherwise changed in ANY MANNER at will and for ANY REASON WITHOUT CONSENT or APPROVAL.

Before taking the object, a couple of inspections of the object would be necessary. That can always be done other places and the object made to put a hood on before the inspection.  Special Lighting can be used when inspecting its face.

I would not have the object chained to the one room in the basement permanently. That would limit just where I could torture and be amused by the object. I will experiment with making things like a chastity belt or collars permanent as today what is really permanent, just usually difficult to remove, which is very appealing. Though change is sometimes hungered for when looking for amusing entertainment.