12 months later.
I guess you could say that I have accepted what I am now. Any pretence at living a normal life disappeared twelve months ago when I chose to change my status. I am no longer Ryan's boyfriend but I am very much still attached to him. In a more permanent way.
Ryan presented me with the ring six months ago, on bended knee. He asked me to marry him. Except his expression showed that it wasn't a request. I nodded meekly and accepted the thick dull ring he presented me with. Naively I thought we may return to equality and I may get my dick back again. We were married quickly and the ring is now worn permanently. Its thick and heavy dullness pulling my septum down harshly.
We live in the rural belt south of the city. A sprawling house. Ryan, his boyfriend Tate and me. Ryan's husband. The title is of course ridiculous. I am in no way his partner.
I no longer leave the house. I have no clothing other than my collar, my ankle chains and my chastity belt. I haven't seen my dick in over 12 months. I haven't been free of my chains or collar in that time. I have forgotten about having a hard dick, or any dick at all.
Ryan reminds me every day that I chose this lifestyle. I nod meekly and bow in acknowledgement. My voice is unwelcome in his house.
...
Ryan is dressed in his suit and Tate in his smart casual gear. As young professionals they have everything they need to live a luxurious lifestyle. As they sit together drinking coffee at the kitchen island, I work silently on all fours. Scrubbing the kitchen floor, ignored.
"He fucking stinks of piss and sweat," Tate observed suddenly.
"Well wash him today. You'd stink too!" Ryan laughs, kissing his lover and standing to leave.
As they move to leave the room, I recognise I am invisible. Unheard labourer on all fours working as a beast.
I hear Ryan's car roar away and Tate re-enters. He clicks his fingers. Hurriedly I rise and kneel humbly before him. Head tilted back and mouth open. He unzips his trousers and takes a casual piss down my open throat. I take great care to gulp down every drop and remain in position as he wipes his cock on my face.
Tate looks down at me in disgust. "You fuckin' reek of piss loser" he sneers, reaching down to my open mouth. With a smirk he grabs the hook from inside my mouth and attaches it to my septum. I am silenced, not that I ever speak.
As a private dentist, Ryan removed my teeth six months ago. A wedding gift so that I could be a better urinal and hole. As part of the same procedure he embedded a thick stud in my tongue to hinder speech and a metal hook device in my lower jaw. Whenever it amuses him, the hook can then be attached simply to my septum ring. Pain, discomfort and humiliation are part of my existence.
Tate motioned me out of the door of the kitchen and I follow him with quick, short steps. I try hard not to piss him off: my fear of him is very real. Wordlessly I am clipped outside the kitchen door. It's a spring day but still cold and I know I could be here all day if he chooses it.
He shudders in the cold air and walks back inside, closing the door behind him. I begin to shiver. Hung by a hook to my septum ring, my body stretched taut on tiptoe probably for a few hours as Tate enjoys his leisure. I grunt and try to get as comfortable as is possible, feeling the cold air drying the sweat on my filthy body. As I wriggle to gain a secure position on tiptoe, I feel my encased cock pinch in its prison. The only recognition that I am a man with a cock is the pain of my dickless torment. It tries to rise and be free every day to no avail. The concept that once I used it to fuck Ryan is now ridiculous. As the cold air invades my hairless torso I am no longer a man.
I shiver uncontrollably. My pain heightened by my bondage. I feel the icy iron collar contract around my throat and my ankles. I feel the iron in my nose and mouth pull heavier against each other. And I feel my shrivelled dick scream against its harsh iron prison.
What have I ever done to deserve this treatment?
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