Sub encounter - Gym

The work week had been shit. A dozen people away sick, and the jobs list to spread among those of us who could still turn up. As I woke for my Thursday, I was still restless from yesterday’s effort. I needed to blow off some steam. I hatched a plan to hit the gym hard, and head to work from there.

Thankfully the gym wasn’t busy. I did have to reorder my work out because the free weights section was hectic, but the bulge cleared and I finished, drenched in sweat.

As I stood in the open shower area, I took in the four or five other early morning punters. Without being conceited, none were as built or defined as I was. That didn’t mean they weren’t worth looking at, they were. Early twenties, toned eye candy always stirs my loins. I felt my circulation system activate my six and a half, thick inches. It was time to go.

At my regular locker I realised I hadn’t really cooled down, so I took my time allowing the chill of the room to work its way towards my core. It wouldn’t help much, but I knew if I dressed now, I’d be covered in sweat. Towel around my waist, I went to the mirror to shave, and brush my teeth. As I looked at my reflection, I saw I could do with a haircut. The rest of my frame was largely hairless, but my head had no trouble in producing an abundance of slightly curled locks.   

When I returned to my gear, there was another towel clad guy, a year or two younger than me, in the open-ended enclave. He was slim and nice to look at, for the second or two that I glanced at him. Our eight-foot wide, horse-shoe shaped section opened to the locker room’s centre walkway, and another matching indent, sat opposite. Like our side, a pair of punters were getting dressed for their workday.

‘Blue towel’, as I nick-named the guy in my area, had clearly arrived at his locker, moments before I returned from cleaning my teeth. Either that or he was just fucken slow. I dragged my gear from the wooden cabinet and set about laying out my stuff. Peripherally aware of his movements, Blue didn’t seem to be making much headway in the dressing department. My awareness of his actions, heightened.

He’d turn to his locker, then back to his bag which was resting on the knee-high vinyl bench in the centre of our zone. He didn’t seem to do anything at either destination. Then it clicked, his towel would swing open on his turn. He was giving me a glimpse of his junk. His metal, cock caged junk.

This was a rare event. I think in my twenty-seven years, I could count on one hand, how many ‘in-use’ cock cages I’d seen in the wild.

While I was thinking of this, Blue continued his dance. Tired from poor sleep and bothered hot from a heavy workout, I snapped.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I rumbled; my volume low enough for our pod only, but unmistakably hostile. He froze, rigid to the point he suddenly had no idea what to do next. Eventually he reached to his bag and collected a tee shirt. I held my gaze which he wouldn’t meet.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he stammered. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“There’ll be no trouble.” I said waiting for him to lift his line of sight. “Assume Display.” I instructed, the moment he made eye contact.

“I said, assume display.” I repeated.

“I, I, don’t know what that is.” He said, still in panic over the can of worms he’d opened.

“Lose the fucken towel,” I said directly. He half moved. “Now!” I enforced. His covering dropped to the floor. He placed his hands in front of his tackle, cupping his junk.

“Stand tall,” I barked quietly. “Hands behind your back.” He complied with increasingly sure movements. Something had clicked in his brain.

“Widen your stance,” he did. “Good.” I praised. “Push your crutch forward, now, head up.”

Despite being clearly face reddened, his movements had become almost automatic. He was showing perfect execution.

“Stare to the middle distance, don’t focus on anything.” He continued to perform.

“This is ‘Display position’, you hold it until your better, releases you. Do you understand boy?”

“Yes Sir, yes Sir.”

I set about dressing as two or three guys wandered past down the central walkway. Only one noticed the strange statue like guy, but kept right on moving.

The guys across the isle looked for half a minute, before getting on with their day.

I dressed in normal time and prepared to leave.

“If you play with a real man, you’d better know what you’re doing. You understand that boy?”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” He replied.

“Your training is shit boy, find a new master.” I swung my backpack over my shoulder. “Released.” I instructed as I turned and left.

*

As the elevator took its own sweet time to arrive, I looked around the reception area. Gavin, the cute muscled guy behind the counter was always up for a chat, but he was trapped on the phone. I gave him a quick wave as the door chimed and opened. The start of another day.

The lift rattled down to the underground car park. It cheerfully told me to mind the doors. I found my humor hadn’t improved; I genuinely contemplated I needed a new job.

As I stowed my bag in the car’s hatch, I heard the lift chime with another passenger delivery for the car park level. Blue Towel boy rushed out looking left and right. When he caught sight of me, he made a bee line in my direction. ‘Here we go’, I thought.

“Sir, Sir.” He said as he arrived, slightly breathless.

“What the fuck do you want boy?” I asked as I closed the rear door with a thud. “Released is released. Get on with your day.”

“Sir, you said my training was shit.” He declared.

“I know what I said, what is this? Repeat the obvious day?” I replied, having a relatively clear idea where this was going.

“Sorry Sir, I don’t know what day it is.” He advised. “Sir, I’ve never had any training; I’ve never found anyone to train me.”

“Again,” I paused. “This still sounds like ‘repeat the obvious’ day. What the fuck do you want boy?”

“Sir, Sir. Will you train me?” He suddenly spat out.

“Listen, if you presume to speak to me boy. You do it with a straight back and your bag and shit set aside.” He complied immediately, dumping his kit, five foot to the left.

“Just to be clear, I am not training you.” I informed, “I’m not interested at the moment, nor am I recruiting.” I saw his chest deflate slightly. Intriguingly I found myself deciding to throw him a bone. “I will offer you a lesson.” I said.

“Sir?” he quizzed.

“On your knees.” He dropped to his knees as I slowly walked around him.

I wondered, if like me, he did something in construction. He was dressed in black slightly scuffed work drill pants with the standard arrangement of trade pockets. His black polo convinced me he did something technical, but he wasn’t on heavy tools. I pulled out my cock and dragged it free of my jeans.

As I continued my slow intimidating walk around him, I released a stream of piss, first coating his chest. Before moving around to do his upper back and returning to his front. His body stiffened, but he didn’t move, and he didn’t utter a sound. As I slowly tucked my cock away, I looked down at his state. Again, he had reddened. I hadn’t known I’d needed a piss that bad; he was soaked.

“Get your cock out boy.” I instructed, he moved to comply. His cock looked to be slightly above average, but it was hard to tell in its cage.

“Tell me the truth boy.” I paused.

“Yes Sir.”

“If you wanted to cum, can you work your cock out of that cage without unlocking it?”

“Umm, yes sir. If I try, I can pull it outwards and sort of ‘untuck’ my dick.”

“Yes or no, boy.”

“Yes Sir, I can.”

“Something to think about,” I replied, keeping my voice even. “What’s the point of your cage?’

He stayed silent.

“Tell me this then boy. Where is the key to that lock?” I asked.

“It’s at home Sir, on my dresser.”

“I see,” I said. “So, you say you’re looking for a master, a trainer. But you don’t even carry the key to honor him if you happen to find one, and he amazingly, agrees to train you.”

“I’m sorry Sir.”

“You don’t have to be sorry to me boy. I’m not part of your journey.” I paused. “I’m just using a sub for light relief, as I pass by.”

“You can extract what you want from it, if you’re sure you want this path”

“Ummm?”

“Jesus! Boy, a sub life is not for the weak. And, you can’t have weak thinking about it either. It feels like you want it both ways.” I paused and made to leave.

“Sir, can you please explain. Please Sir?” He had detected I was readying to depart.

“For fuck sake, think about it. A half-arsed locker room attempt to invite a real man with a glimpse? A fucken glimpse! What’s that shit? Make a connection, offer full display. Own your offer! Or keep your dick covered and go back to vanilla.”

“A cage that you can escape from, keys left at home.” I continued. “Do you want to attract a master or not? Get some fucken intent!” He sighed, clearly scared by the ideas.

In my experience, it’s not an uncommon dilemma for a natural born sub. Craving to be demeaned or controlled, fearful of the consequences, and all the while existing in a desolate middle ground. I’ve met a few, who even in full control of skilled masters, were disgusted by their own desperation to yield. It was such a complicated space.

My annoyingly, soft heart kept me lingering, dammit!

“Think about it, today you’ve been beet-red humiliated, twice.’ I sought to explain. “Neither time were you at risk. On both occasions you had a real man in utter control of the situation. Even if we were in a football crowd, no jerk would fuck with that dynamic.”

“Thank you, Sir. I see.”

“I’m not sure you have that sort of brain capacity boy.” I sighed and took a breath, now I was really leaving.

“At least do this.”

“Sir?”

“You work in that gear,” I nodded toward his now drying clothes. “You spend the rest of the day, smelling that you’ve been scent marked by a real man.

Tonight, regardless of what your conscious mind thinks, take some time to reflect. If being shown your place, makes you harder than granite, you’ll have your answer.”

I turned and walked to the driver’s door. I didn’t look back.

As I pulled from the car park, I took in the time. I was going to be late. What the fuck was I doing? I’d let myself be distracted, what a fucken great way to extend my mood.

Fuck I needed a new job!