The Making of a Toyboy Slave

The Making of a Toyboy Slave 02

The Making of a Toyboy Slave 02

Thank you for opening my story: I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I would be very grateful for any ratings and/or comments. As the remaining two parts have not yet been written, I might be able to incorporate any suggestions that you make.

This is the second part of the story, but it should not be necessary for you to read the first in order to enjoy it. If you have read it, you don't need to read the rest of this preface. Nigel is a painfully shy young man, twenty years old, who has never had a girlfriend. Although he is not bad looking and enjoys a modest private income, he has no close friends or family, and is very awkward in the company of strangers.

While having afternoon tea in a local hotel, Nigel spots a woman to whom he is strongly attracted, although she is about twice his age. Somehow, he plucks up the courage to approach her in the garden afterwards, and as they both feign an interest in roses, she takes him home to look at hers. Their mutual attraction is so strong that they are soon making love in her conservatory. After a break, she confides in him that she can only sustain relationships in which she has total control, and he readily submits to having his hands cuffed behind his back. There they remain while she has sex with him again.

She does not keep him overnight, but before releasing him to go home she changes his name to Jack, and locks him in a chastity cage. She gives him to understand that he has a few days to decide whether to remain as her submissive lover, or to remove the cage with a bolt cutter, in which case he will never see her again. He never seriously considers the latter choice. The second part of the story begins as he wakes up to face his first day alone in his home, caged, unable to masturbate, but thinking constantly of his beloved June.

Caged Life

Caged Life

Waking up at about ten o'clock in the morning, Jack (ex-Nigel) found his mind racing over the events of the previous day and the night. Had it all been real, or was it at least partly the product of his dreams or fantasies? The most obvious reminder of his new reality was the cock cage. His new mistress- June- had chosen the size very carefully. It was not small enough to prevent him from starting to come erect, and he was always hard when he woke up in the morning, when he usually masturbated. It was, however, not large enough to house a full erection, so his tumescent flesh was pressing against the metal and bulging out through the apertures.

He showered, hoping that the water would slacken him. It helped only a little, if at all, but he persisted in readying himself for the day, hoping that he would subside as be busied himself with mundane activities like eating his breakfast. That did do the trick, but the problem then was that his slack penis bumped against the metal as he walked, or rested on it while he sat down, and he could often feel the ring around his scrotum. Sometimes his balls tried to contract into his body, and he was conscious of them pressing against the steel.

He waited until after lunch to pull the enema machine out of the holdall, and took it upstairs to try it out. It was simple enough, attaching to the hook that usually held the shower head over the bath, in which he stood to use it. With a relatively small bag to hold a very dilute antiseptic solution, there was no chance of him overfilling himself, so he went through three cycles without feeling any real discomfort.

The enemas did, however, give him another erection, frustrating his plan to blast his penis with water from the showerhead. June had chosen a cage with a solid metal dome at the end, completely enclosing hisglans. Without even a hole at the tip, it forced his urine to gush out through the side holes, making it necessary to sit on the toilet to avoid major spillages. Strong jets of water were needed to clean both the metal and the flesh thoroughly, and he was not able to do it to his satisfaction until about three o'clock in the afternoon.

He made sure that he took all the pills according to the instruction sheet included with them. He had very little idea what they were for. On the previous day he had been erect for longer than on any previous day in his life, and he had ejaculated more often, but he had no means of estimating the effect of the presence of a real, naked and beautiful woman. He had also had his wrists locked behind his back for at least seven hours, and he wondered whether some kind of relaxing drug had protected him from muscle pain and cramp. There had been no talk of STDs, unwanted pregnancies or feminine complaints such as cystitis.

Such thoughts set him thinking about June's possible affiliations. The talk of other sexual partners who, presumably, would expect him to be in bondage, and the pills, suggested membership of some club or society. He also suspected that certain protocols regulated the treatment of submissives like himself. The way he had left her house suggested that he would never again be in her presence unrestrained. Their first coupling had been a short-lived self-indulgence on her part, after which he had been cuffed, never to be free to hold her breasts or tweak her nipples. The thought made him feel a little sad, but it also made him feel aroused, and it was not until after dinner that his penis ceased to press against its metal prison.

Jack was thinking of finding something harmlessly asexual to watch on the television, but out of curiosity he had a more thorough delve into the holdall. He had put his cuffs in there, and sometimes wished he had left them on as a further reminder of his relationship with June, but he also found a slightly larger pair of leg-irons and several lengths of chain. There was also a thick, heavy collar, and at the back, deeply embedded in the metal, a tiny red LED was winking slowly. Jack guessed that it was reporting its location, and probably, whether or not it was locked on a human throat. There were also several padlocks in a side pocket, two of which had timers, and two with combinations.

Jack wondered how June would recover her property if he backed out by using bolt cutters to remove his cage. Perhaps she was too wealthy to bother about that, or perhaps she thought the chances were negligible. The latter was probably more likely, and indeed the thought of doing that had never entered his head. For him, the most interesting item in the bag was a printed leaflet. It was about a dozen pages long, A5 sized, and seemed to be professionally produced on high-quality, glossy paper. Its circulation must, however, have been small. It was entitledThe Dominant and Submissive Society: Rules, Regulations and Guidelines.

There was no introduction, and no information about the society or its members. Nor was there very much about the physical treatment of submissives. Basically, they were not to be killed or permanently harmed, but certain modifications were permissible under certain circumstances. Reference was made to another pamphlet- not included- on the different treatment of slaves from different origins. Jack could only read what he had in front of him, unsure whether June had intended to include the document, or whether its contents applied to him. A section entitledConsentwas particularly interesting, especially as it seemed relevant to his present situation. He had agreed, for instance, to have his wrists cuffed, but he had certainly not consented, in any meaningful way, to having his cock caged for days on end.

All members of the society must ensure that all persons subject to their authority can be demonstrated to have given their consent. However, it is in the nature of what we do that consent cannot be sought or given regularly; still less for every act by every member. Certain principles, therefore, are deemed to apply to all members' relations with submissives, varying considerably with the origins of and reasons for their subjection.

The society adheres to the principle ofLasting Consent, meaning that consent given is deemed to be permanent unless otherwise stated. In that context, the society acts as an individual entity. A submissive who has consented to sex in bondage with a member, without giving or being given a time limit, is therefore deemed to be available indefinitely- for life- to any member, individually or jointly.

Members to should try to explain this clearly to new submissives. In the past it has not been unknown for a person to have what he or she expects to be a one-night stand with some mild rope bondage involved, only to find himself, or herself, days, weeks or months later, being gang-banged in chains by total strangers. Members should ensure that those who are owned should know they are owned, and who owns them.

Linked to the principle of Lasting Consent are those ofImplied Consent,Providential Consent, andInvoluntary Consent. Put simply, an individual does not have to consent, for example, to have four limbs and two eyes, or an aptitude for mathematics, or a taste for fish and chips. These are simply circumstances that are recognized, but are not in any way contractual.

Persons who can only achieve fulfilment in bondage to masters and mistresses, kept and used as they see fit, are submissives for life, and their consent to being treated appropriately is built into their personalities, like the firmware of a camera or the BIOS of a computer. While most such persons will give their explicit consent at some point, with care and understanding, matters can proceed without it. Consent can often be deduced from known behaviours, such as watching BDSM material while indulging in self-bondage.

Consent may also be deduced when the alternative is indisputably less desirable. Some of our submissives were not born to that role, but accepted it as an alternative to long periods of imprisonment with hard labour, usually in countries with excessively harsh penal systems. Some have been sentenced to death. About ten percent of our female submissives are adulteresses, shipped to us quietly from countries where the authorities fear the bad publicity that tends to follow stonings. It can be safely assumed that they are willing to please their new owners, and so far they have given us very little trouble.

Jack thought hard about what he was reading. He understood that, as June had stated explicitly that he could still withdraw from his obedience to her, he had not yet given his "Lasting Consent," but he also felt that he would rather the matter was settled once and for all. His time with her had been so short, and his view of the future was so imperfect, that he felt very insecure in his relationship with her. The cock cage was both reassuring and frustrating. It demonstrated that she wanted to keep him, but it also reminded him that days would pass before he felt his hardness inside her moist, warm and wet pussy.

In the meantime he could not even masturbate, and it was a constant struggle to stop his penis straining against its metal cage. He cleaned the house, weeded the garden, and watched tennis and golf on the television, and occasionally dipped into the pamphlet, hoping for further enlightenment. One paragraph he found very interesting.

The society strongly recommends that, in cases in which a member has charge of a submissive, the name is changed at least every three months. Changes should be more frequent for those who are regularly circulated. Submissives should not be allowed to form a sense of identity attached to a particular name, nor should they become well-known to one another, or to the members, by names. Names are convenient labels, but must not get in the way of the objectification process.

Jack, who certainly felt that his name change helped to erase his former- and not very successful- self, realized that the pamphlet was referring constantly to slavery and enslavement, but without ever using the word. The "society" was an organization for acquiring and keeping sex-slaves, and the aim was certainly to hold them for the duration of their lives. Whether they also kept slaves for other purposes- as labourers or for milking, for instance- he still had no idea. He knew what he was to become, and for the time being, he had to be satisfied with that.

Afternoon Sex

Afternoon Sex

Late in the evening, shortly before Jack was intending to go to bed, an email arrived from June.

Take tea at the hotel on Saturday afternoon, starting at about three. Ignore me until you are told otherwise. You will be home again on Saturday night, but you should be prepared to be absent all next week, from Monday night. You will not need clothes or toiletries. You should take some exercise. Go for a good long walk tomorrow (Friday) and visit the supermarket if you need anything. Take another walk on Sunday, and/or early on Monday. If the latter, aim to be home by 3 pm.

She must know, he realized, that he had not chosen to cut himself free of his cock cage. He felt that he would have known if there were cameras or microphones planted in the house, but perhaps there was one watching his garage, and a tracker attached to his car. He obeyed the instructions, hoping that after waking up with another throbbing erection pressing against the metalwork, the wholesome air of the countryside would take his mind off sex.

It was only partially successful, at best. It was too warm to wear a coat or anorak, and he was convinced that everyone he passed could see the cock cage bulging through the thin material of his trousers. He went for the most deserted footpaths that he knew, but there were a few people out walking dogs, and the latter had an unerring instinct for sniffing out something unusual in his crotch. When he was walking he tried to concentrate on the flora and fauna, but when it was slack his penis was constantly touching the metalwork, so he was always conscious of it. It was also very difficult to forget the bulk and weight of the scrotal ring.

Constantly struggling to keep his mind off his genitals, Jack was now convinced that his libido had been enhanced by the pills he'd been ordered to take each morning. If so they were very quick-acting and very effective, to the extent that, had he not been led to expect relief fairly soon- possibly the very next day- he would have been in utter despair. If there was a silver lining to his cloud of frustration, it was that it kept him thinking about June's body; the feel of her vagina on his shaft as she had impaled herself on it, and how it felt against the soft flesh of her breasts. He found himself thinking more about her bottom, and if and when she would allow him to bugger her, and how tight she would be.

Such thoughts did not help his condition, and even when he was out walking he needed frequent applications of cold water, fortunately available from the streams that were plentiful on and around the West Lancashire Moors. He lived in fear of being caught with his pants down by a walking club- probably of elderly matrons- but was either very lucky or sufficiently cautious.

The supermarket was more difficult as he was more afraid of having a conspicuous erection, and that proved to be a self-fulfilling prophesy. He managed to hide the bulge- he hoped- by taking a shopping trolley and keeping very close behind it. Sometimes he could only reach what he wanted by waiting until there was no-one close and then darting out to grab it. Going through the check-outs was also nerve wracking, and he felt that the self-service tills would have forced him to expose himself more, especially to the girl who would inevitably come to help him. He never detected anyone staring at him, but he felt that one tiny mistake would change that, revealing his condition to an outraged public.

After another frustrating night and a morning spent doing unnecessary tasks, Jack was in his customary place in the hotel at the appointed time. He usually ignored his napkin, but this time it was spread over his lap before there was any food or tea on the table to be spilt. Five minutes after his arrival, his heart fluttered as June came in with the same friend, and they both sat at the same table as before.

June barely glanced in his direction, but her friend was almost facing him, and he often felt her eyes on him. He worked out a way of watching her reflection in one of the windows, and was in no doubt that, whenever he looked in another direction, she looked directly at him. He felt they were talking about him, leaning towards one another ad giggling from time to time. This time they both finished their afternoon teas, but the friend still left before June, who then looked over to him and nodded. He took that as the signal to pay his bill and move out into the rose garden, where she joined him almost immediately.

She was still being very discreet. "This one's lovely," she remarked as she sniffed at anAbraham Darby. "I tried to buy one earlier in the spring, and found that David Austen has stopped selling them in England. Something about the climate." In a quieter voice she went on: "Leave the garden by the gate behind theShropshire Lads, and walk into the wood across the lane. When you come to a proper gate, go through and let it lock behind you, and carry on as straight as you can. You can leave your car here."

She walked off then towards the car park, and Jack was left to find the right gate. There was only one possibility, but he felt bound the identify theShropshire Ladbushes to rule out any chance of making a mistake. Nearby was a gate the led to a small car park. It was used mainly by newly married couples to gain direct access to the garden for their photographs. Across the lane, a path led into a small area of carefully manicured woodland, with glades where the more adventurous could consummate their marriages. Jock walked through the area, heart thumping as he half-expected to be waylaid by June. It was bounded on the far side by a high chain-link fence, in which was set a locking gate that was standing open.

He walked through, obeying the instruction to close it behind him. The path continued through well-tended woodland for nearly a quarter of a mile, and he finally came to an almost magical glade; a small lawn bordering a pond in which waterlilies were flowering, some rocky outcrops where alpine plants flourished, and a Regency summerhouse painted white.

Jack stood admiring the scene and wondering when June would appear. With her footsteps on the path being deadened by a layer of leaf mould, he failed to hear her as she stole up behind him, and he started as she grasped both his arms and pulled them behind his back. Moments later he felt metal against his wrists, and heard the "clicks" as the cuffs were locked in place. This time she was using a linked pair instead of the individual manacles that she had put on him the first time. She turned him around, and he was allowed to kiss her perfect lips as she began to unbutton his shirt.

They kissed almost continuously as she stripped him, removing his trousers but leaving his shirt pulled down around his waist. She might have torn it off him, but without a replacement for him to wear on his way home, that would have been problematic. Her hand went automatically to his genitals, and she grunted with satisfaction when she encountered his cock cage. She had not brought the key with her. His flesh was already beginning to bulge through the openings but she ignored that, making him bend to kiss her bosom through the fabric of her dress.

"Have you been a good boy, Jack?" she asked him. "No trying to wank off in your cage? If I took it off and analysed the deposits inside the tip, would I find semen, or just pee? I can find you a solid one, with no apertures except a tiny hole for urinating."