Sub encounter: Plumber

Later Sunday afternoon, I was sitting in the front lounge, watching the last twenty minutes of the ice hockey. I was intrigued, something had transformed Avalanche, in the last year? I was attempting to put my finger on how they were converting so well. It would be hidden in the player stats I decided.

In the middle of contemplating Colorado’s winning streak fortune, James arrived through the front door.

His football uniform disheveled and grubby from the game.

“Why you coming in this way?” I asked, given he always came in through the kitchen.

“No steps this way,” he answered, grimacing as he dropped his kit. “It’s been a tough day at the office.”    

Chris appeared with the beer I had sent him for.

“Boy,” greeted James.

“Sir,” replied Chris, standing at my side.

“Take my bag to the room, and separate out the laundry,” instructed James, “also, run a bath.”

“Yes sir,” replied the boy as he came and collected the kit.

I watched on as James had a moment of deep thought.

“Boy, when does your study break end?” he asked Chris, as he turned to the stairs.

“Next Sunday evening sir,”

James just nodded, motioned for the boy to continue, and headed for the kitchen.

I wondered what he had in mind.

“So, in cages now?” he asked, having noticed.

I nodded.

“And arse plugged,” I added, “I think by Wednesday, they’ll have a new definition of horny.”

“We’ll see how that plays out,” I suggested, “no need to be unduly harsh in their first week.”

“Ok, but the plan is for them to be more caged than not?”

“Of course,” I replied, thinking it an odd question. “Not all boys are constantly locked, but these ones will be.”

He just nodded.

*

After dinner I sat in the office upstairs reviewing a few on-line blogs. I was investigating the pool of potential owners for Steve, and the Twins. I have to say I was relatively unimpressed. I found myself, slightly concerned for the boys.

As I scrolled down to the next page, James arrived and ‘plonked’ himself in the chair across from me.

“What’s up?” I asked, noting how much brighter he seemed after a bath, and being fed.

‘I’ve been thinking,” he opened.

“Oh my fucken god!” I exclaimed, “when did this start!”

We both smiled, I even started chuckling over myself.

“A lot has changed over the past few weeks,” he pressed on, jokes aside, “seeing Chris and Sam pull their lives together so quickly, has pushed me.”

“Just because someone else has worked out where they’re going, doesn’t mean you have to,” I offered, “you’re eighteen, it’s not a race.”

“I’ve made some decisions,” he continued, as if he hadn’t heard me, “I’d like your support on.”

This was serious then, I dialed up my attention.

“If you and mom aren’t comfortable, then that’s ok,” he paused, “I’ll just put the bits I can control in place.”

I nodded.

“Lets hear it then.” I said, giving the green light.

“You know I’ve been putting all the money from the garage aside?” he started, as I confirmed with a nod, “Well that’s built up to a fair amount.”

“Ok,” I acknowledged, “and this is important?”

“Not really, I just want you to know I’ve got reserves.” Ok, I gestured.

“I’m not going back to school, I’m done with that.”

He watched on as I tensed, managing though to keep my trap shut.

“I’ve done all the assessments, all my assignments are in. The marks I have today, are the marks I’ll finish with.”

“Sure, they’re not much better than average, but when I graduate, I’ll still be the brightest mechanic I know.”

Fair enough, I thought, well argued.

“In a week, I start full time at the garage.” He revealed, declaring a done deal. “I’ll be on apprentice wages, but Frank has promised four hours adult-pay overtime a week.”

“I’m just telling you, so you guys know my plan, I’m not asking.” He finished.

I collected my thoughts.

“What do you think?” he finally asked, not able to bare the quiet.

I stood and moved to his side of the desk, motioning him to stand.

When he did, I grabbed him in a full bear hug.

“I been waiting for this day for months, I’m so proud of you son,” I declared, my eyes full of tears.

He pulled back, as if surprised, his eyes starting to redden.

“You are?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“Of course, children breaking from their parents grip, is the worst and best thing that can happen for a mom and dad.” I assured.

He bear hugged me back.

*

After we had settled. I posed a question, I thought was pretty light, in hindsight it wasn’t so.

“Do you plan on living here?” I asked.

“Well,” he started, then paused, “this is less concrete.”

Now I was intrigued.

“I have an idea,” he opened. “If I lined the basement, maybe install a few walls and stuff down there. Can I rent it from you guys?”

“I’ll pay for the renos, and I won’t put anything in that can’t be taken out.” He assured.

I took some time to think.

The basement space matched the full footprint of the house. It was completely open, with an unused bathroom at one end. A blank canvas.

“You’d have to redo the bathroom, maybe throw in a small kitchen?” I suggested, “But, I think it’s a good plan.” I added, lending my support.

He was suddenly all grins.

“Great,” he expressed, “I’m going to fix up the door in the side wall, that way I’ll have my own entrance.”

Wow, he had given this some thought. In reality he was staying home, but actually moving out. It occurred to me that at times, we may not see him for a week or more.

I nodded, the door sounded like a good idea, for independence. On the inside, I suddenly found myself a little sad.

“What do you think mom will say?” he asked, a crease of concern.

“She’ll be completely fucken hysterical, of course.” I suggested, full of smiles.

He grinned back.

“She’ll be fine,” I countered, “you’re moving out, but not that far.” I paused. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t ‘pop’ in, you paying rent will make it your place.”

“Thanks Dad, I love you guys, but I want to start to carve out my own space.”

I nodded, confirming I heard him.

*

I looked at the clock, realizing we’d been chatting for an hour. Time was flying, in more ways than one.

“I think I can wrestle the basement into shape in a week,” he revealed.

I doubted that.

“Well, maybe not complete, but I’ll definitely have all the main things done,” he continued. “I’ll get Steve to do the bathroom, and kitchen.” He was animated now.

“I’ll leave painting and carpeting the main living areas until last, that way I can move in next weekend.”

Jeepers! Jane would have a heart attack.

“I’m going to put the Twins to work, morning to night, all next week,” he said, semi asking for permission.

“Good idea.” I praised, thinking he needed all the hands he could get.

“I want this project to be a positive reset for my relationship with them,” he pondered. “You know, them knowing their place, now they’ve shifted from being ‘brother’s’.”

“Another good idea,” I agreed.

“Now piss off, while I go and find your mother. You go and tell the boys what they’ll be doing for the next seven days.”

*

Before we went to bed, I took Jane through the plan, James had put together.

“Our boys have all grown up Simon,” she declared, as I drew to a close. I agreed.

“I’m so proud of all of them. Suddenly, they’ve all found their way,” she lamented, “it’s just you and me from now on.”

“Well, not really, but I take your point,” I replied.

“You know, I had no idea James was so well on his way,” she paused, “I’ve been waiting for some spark to force the situation. I guess it’s arrived.”

“Are you going to help with the basement?” she asked.

“No, I don’t intend to even go down there,” I replied, “not until he invites us.”

“He’ll be paying rent, it’s his space.” I suggested. “If he was living somewhere else, I doubt we’d be getting the keys.”

“You’re right, but it will be good to know he’s only a door and a flight of stairs away. Even if we don’t see him for weeks.”

I nodded, thinking for the hundredth time how amazing my wife was.

*

At seven the next morning, I was woken by the sound of a warning beeper, reversing into the drive. I looked out the window to see a dump skip being delivered.

Standing beside it, directing the driver was James. Chris and Sam were standing nearby, dressed in rough shorts, boots and nothing else.

“It looks like James has raided the charity bag to kit out the twins,” I relayed to Jane, as she rose from the bed. “I guess he didn’t want them ruining the few good clothes they have.”

Thoughtful, I reflected.   

Through the morning, the boys tossed everything of no value into the Skip. There was a surprising amount of junk, we had somehow accumulated over the years. As lunchtime arrived, they had moved on to removing parts of the old bathroom.

As I looked out through the kitchen window, I saw the amount they’d thrown out. The space must have now been a blank sheet?

As if to confirm a readiness to start rebuilding, a load of timber, dry wall and insulation, rolled up around three. I quietly watched on from upstairs, as the trio transported the material below ground, like ants shifting a sugar cube.

I didn’t work from home the next day, so I had no idea of Tuesday progress.

As we all sat for dinner that night, James informed us he had secured a small job contract builder from Craig's List. The guy arrived mid-morning, and already fixed the entrance door. It was clear the boy was excited by the progress.

As expected, the Twins didn’t talk, and weren’t asked for their thoughts.

As they sat, I noticed their cocks were straining their cages. I guessed their constant movement, had their butt plugs working overtime. We didn’t ask about that either.

Originally, the builder was only meant to fix the door, but James had asked him to help with the internal walls. It made sense, I suggested, but being careful not to ask details.

Steve would arrive tomorrow morning Wednesday, to do the bathroom. I’d previously called Carl to see if his worker had any room in his job list. So far, it had all ran smoothly.

After dinner, James appeared in my office, still grubby from his day.

“We need the electricity off, between eleven and three tomorrow,” he advised, “is that ok?”

“Your mother and I will be at work,” I nodded, “check with her.”

“How are the boys working out?” I asked, curious.

“It’s going well.” he replied, brightly. “Now we’ve moved inside, they’re working in just their boots.”

“When they first stripped, the builder was confused, but he’s gotten over it.”

“They do as they’re told, with zero push-back,” he informed, smiling.

“In the beginning, I didn’t know how they were going to react to a man calling the shots, especially their ex-brother.”

“To tell you the truth, the three of us have been having fun.” He paused, “I mean, they’ve been working hard, we all have, but there’s more cheer than stress.”

“You know,” he contemplated, “they’re dead-set born for this sub stuff.”

“It’s like it gives them energy,” he continued. “They keep asking ‘what now’, ‘what now’. Not once have they tried to think for themselves. It’s been great.”

“They’ve moved on from seeing you as their brother.” I suggested, as much to myself, as to him. “It’s a good sign they recognise that time has gone.” He nodded.

“Also, tells me you’re acknowledging their efforts,” I said.

He nodded again.

“I am,” he said with confidence. “Frank at work, showed me with Sabastian, just how much difference a scruff on the head, or a slap on the back can make.”

“He says, it doesn’t take much to say ‘good job’. I’m just copying him.”

Suddenly, it was my turn to contemplate: this near-man, growing before my eyes.

*

When I arrived home from work on Wednesday, I noticed two things. Steve’s van was in the drive, and there was more wood and dry wall, leaning against the house.

As I walked by, I saw the skip was now full of empty cardboard boxes, waiting to be crushed down.

I settled in the kitchen with a tea. It had been a busy day.

following a knock, Steve, in only his boots stepped in.

“Sorry to bother you sir,” he greeted.

“No problem boy, how are things going down stairs?”

“Good sir, all done except for the grout drying and painting later this week.”

“So quick?”

“Yes sir, the bathroom just needed a cosmetic refresh,” he confirmed, “and the extensions were easy.”

Extensions? What the fuck did that mean? I almost asked, but managed to stop myself.

“So, done for the day?”

“Yes sir, tomorrow I’ll return to silicone the kitchenette.”

I had forgotten the kitchen.

“It went in easy?” I asked.

“Yes sir, pre-assembled, simple to drop in.”

I nodded in wonder, how tech had moved, from when we first built the place.

Steve loitered.

“Anything else boy?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” he replied, uncomfortable to continue.

“Speak freely boy.”

“Thank you sir,” he began cautiously. “Sir, since Sunday I haven’t cum.” He paused, “may I please cum? sir, I’m desperate. I don’t understand why I’m so horny sir, please!” he begged, meaning it.

I thought I’d see where we’re actually at, just to know for future events.

“Tell me what’s happening boy.”

“Sir, I’m desperate, my cock strains but the cage won’t let it get hard.” He paused.

“Keep going,” I pressed, ‘you’re doing well.”

He was momentarily confused.

“Um, I’ve tried everything, I work my balls, I work the little bit of my cock I can reach, I even tried to vibrate the whole cage.” Another breath, “on Monday it was bad, but sir, it’s just getting worse.”

He was indeed mentally fucked up. It was time to throw him a bone, no point in ruining him so early on.

“Have you worked your hole?” I asked.

“Sir?” he quizzed, having no idea what the fuck I was talking about.

“So, in the future, the only way you will be able to unload is when your top fucks the cum out of you.”

He sensed a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

“Sir, I’m too dumb, please use simple words.” He begged.

“Boy, as a fuck sub, you can’t wank yourself to release, you don’t have that luxury.”

“Sir?” he said, dropping to his knees in a horny panic.

“But, you don’t have to worry,” I soothed, “you can cum when you get enough anal stimulation, enough  to tip you over the edge, that is.”

“Sir, you mean I can cum by having guys fuck my arse?”

“That’s the only way you’ll be able to unload.” I placed my hand on his shoulder, for comfort.

“Look, it’s all set up to support you. As a sub, you exist to service men. So, you being horny, motivates you to service men as best you can.”

“When I get fucked, I’ll be able to unload, even in a cage?” he sought to confirm.

I nodded.

“Sir,” he said in a quiet realization, “what if I can’t find a man to service?”

“You don’t get to cum,” I responded. He paled.

I gave us a break of silence, to ease the tension.

When I saw he had relaxed a little, I carefully took his chin in my grip, angling his head, to maintain eye contact.

“Boy, to keep it simple, there’s just three things to understand,” I added, making sure my pace didn’t overwhelm him.

“Firstly, it takes practice to be able to cum anally. So don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“The second thing is, men can get arse anywhere. It means you have to be a dedicated servant to your owner, and the best fuck toy you can be.”

I checked, he was taking it all in as I smiled reassuringly.

“The last thing is, any man using a tight arse, can cum in three minutes.”

“A caged boy will usually take at least ten minutes to blow.”

“Sir, what does the last point mean?” he asked, as he had put most of the pieces together.

“The best fuck toy has to keep the cock inside him, entertained for at least ten minutes,” I paused, to highlight the link, “if he wants to cum that is.”

*

“Sir, I’m worried.”

“I know, and that’s good,” I praised. “Boy, you’re a hard worker anyway, but a little fear of the possibilities will keep you focused.” I scuffed his hair.

“You don’t have to be a gold-plated boy, today.” I declared. “It’s your first week in a cage, it will take time to learn how your body works, reacts, and copes with your new reality.”

“Let’s get some head now.” I offered, “then we’ll unlock you, so we can empty those balls.”

“Thank you sir,” he breathed in relief, “thank you.”

*

He tentatively reached up, and began to undo my work pants. When he met no resistance, he pressed on keenly. I stepped out of my gear, and pulled off my shirt.

I let him get himself arranged to begin to suck.

When he had settled into a nice rhythm, I gently took him by the ears, and guided him to a stop.

I moved forward, until my knob was pressed against the beginning of his throat.

I rested while he breathed through his nose, and got used of the sensation. He gagged a little, but soon had it under control.

I pressed on, feeling my meat actually enter his throat. I lodged myself an inch or two into his wind pipe.

Again he gagged, again he managed to get it under control.

He’d clearly been practicing with his dicked ball gag.

I pulled out enough to let him breathe, but not completely free of his gullet.

I pressed back in and this time went as deep as my length let me.

Suddenly I was in deep-throat heaven. Oh, my fucken god, it was magic.

The sensation along my entire length was amazing, holy fuck!

I went to work.

He did gag, here and there, he’d be slobbering all down his front, but I never starved him of air, I never looked to tear his throat up. I wanted this boy for the long term, I intended to be back here, often.

With little warning for either of us, I filled him with seed, he mostly swallowed as I smiled at his effort.

We both sat back catching our breath, fuck that was good!