Sub encounter: Plumber

I rested, thoroughly content with the euphoria my empty balls had generated. Inch by inch I returned to reality. Dam it! Steve was undergoing his own adjustments; he'd just been fucked. I was sure he'd be feeling it tomorrow, not that that was especially important.

"Grab us a beer each," I directed, nodding towards the door. 

He'd been hoping to get out of his cage, but that wasn't happening for another round. I was curious to see if he could cum from being anally fucked. His cock had been straining, and under serious pressure. Its lucky his cage was metal, plastic wouldn’t have contained him.

When he returned, he took up station on his side of the bed. We drunk the beers of men, who had just exerted themselves seriously. I thought about the fact I had just fucked a super fine arse. Suddenly I was firming again, I couldn't believe how horny I was. I drained my beer and set it on the sideboard, I encouraged him to finish his, then told him to get on all fours. Pleasingly, he did, without hesitation.

I made my way up behind him, knelt and presented my cock to his hole. Contemplating what was coming, I firmed even more. With a coat of Lube, I decided he was already well stretched. I plunged straight in, catching him by surprise, and extracting shock value from my entrance.  

I started with a slow but solid rhythm, and very quickly built to a full-blown pounding. I found that mentally, I wanted to fuck his hole into next week!

With every hard thrust, his body actually quaked from arse to head. I continued, unabated, without hesitation, and without inhibition. It was time to nail this boy fucking hard, fucking deep, and fucking long! It was time to party!

* * *

After a while, I detected he was emitting almost stifled squeals. Without slackening my pace, I took a minute, just to make sure I wasn't actually hurting him. I wasn't, he was just so brain fuck horny, he couldn't stop himself. It was as if he only had his muffled voice, to diffuse what he was experiencing.

I flipped him to his back, and rammed my cock straight in. Before long, a serious pool of precum formed, then dripped from the end of his cage. I didn't actually think he was going to cum from being pounded, but it was worth a try. I smiled and picked up my rhythm, that extra 10% making all the difference.

When I did actually cum, it was without warning, and shocking in its arrival. It was like, fuck! I’m cumming! It didn't matter, it was still excellent!

Very quickly, I found the end of my knob to be super sensitive. I pressed on but the sensation, became way too much. I pulled out, rolled to my side, and did everything I could to catch my breath. Now I was really dripping in sweat. I looked across at Steve, and found that although he'd been on the receiving end, he was also covered in a moist film

* * *

When I’d recovered enough, I reached across to the dresser, grabbed his key, and tossed it to him. I wanted him to cum, while he was still warm from the memory of his hole being pounded. Again!

He quickly undid his straining meat, then went to work on releasing his ball pressure. For him the desperate situation, wasn't one that allowed him to enjoy the journey. His core focus was to empty his balls, as quickly as possible. Four minutes later he started making the same stifled squeals. He immediately blew wave after wave of creamy white seed. He blew across his abs, his chest, in fact across everything

He did try to press on for a second release, but realised he was too physically and emotionally spent. He was clearly overwhelmed, he’d managed to unload, for the first time in a week. A week where his prostate activating butt plug had not rested. He set about chasing down his breath. The whole event had been great to watch.

This time, I was in no desperate hurry to recover. I let myself slowly lose heat, and yet hold a state of post fuck bliss.

* * *

I fucked him again just after dinner, then went for another round, about three in the morning. The next day, I didn’t wake until 9.30.

After a shower, I wandered downstairs and cooked breakfast. Steve finished washing and joined me, fifteen minutes later. He was moving very carefully. I motioned for him to sit, while I plated up.

“You’re going to be pretty sore for the next few days.” I informed, as I poured a coffee.

“Sorry sir,” he apologized.

“Don’t be, you did fucken awesome last night,” I praised, drawing a smile out. “Close to the best fucken cherry pop I’ve ever done.” I continued, telling the truth. He smiled more.

“Take tomorrow, and Tuesday off,” I directed. He just looked at me. ‘Tell Carl you’ve hurt your back, or something.”

“But si….”

“I’m not repeating myself.” I said firmly.

“Yes sir,” he surrendered.

We ate and enjoyed general chit chat, for the rest of the meal. It was a great start to the day.

When he stood to clear the table, I took in, that he still wasn’t caged. I’d told him to bring the metal down when he came, which he had.

“You can stay cageless for the rest of the day,” I informed, surprising him to grin. “Back on tonight before you sleep.”

“Yes, sir, thank you sir.”

*

As he prepared to leave after breakfast, I hung back at the kitchen door.

“I’ll drop around about ten tomorrow,” I declared, “see how you’re doing.”

Now he was shocked, and suddenly nervous.

“I’ll see you then,” I continued, then shut the door and returned upstairs. I could do with a nap I decided.

* * *

I knew where Steve lived, through the general conversations we’d had.

When I pulled up out front of his place the next morning, it was exactly as I expected. A modest ex-family home, now in need of some fairly hefty repair. As a rental went, it wasn’t too bad, but it was on the cusp of being a demolition job.

From what I understood, he was rent-sharing the place with two other single guys. A classic mid-twenties share house story. I knocked on the front door, taking in Steve’s van and another car in the drive. A woman, not much older than a girl, answered.

“Hi,” I jumped in first. “Is Steve about?”

“Sure,” she replied casually, “just go round the back.”

Now I was thrown.

“Sorry, round the back?” I asked.

“Oh, I thought you knew him,” she backed up.

“I do, I’ve just never been here before,”

“No drama,” she gestured, “just go down the drive, he’s in the shed at the back.”

Again I was thrown, what the fuck?

“Thanks,” I said, as I managed to snap myself back to the present. I made my way as directed.

When I arrived at the end of the drive, I did find the shed. Well, it was actually a single car corrugated iron garage. But it hadn’t been used for that purpose for years. I located a steel door on the side, warped at the top, and essentially, un-lockable.

What I found when I opened it, and stepped inside, was a well-kept, shanty town space, that wouldn’t have been out of place, in any third world country.

I found Steve, deep asleep on a camping cot. He was nestled under two thick duvets, both of which had seriously seen better days. I realized with horror, the first third of the shed was earthen floored. It was swept, but still dirt.

As he dozed, I looked around, silently. All his clothes hung from a makeshift line, that extended from the front door, to the second supporting beam. Two battered dining tables sat along the wall, opposite where he slept. There were a pair of torn up chairs, randomly placed.

A portable gas camp stove, some cooking implements, and a range of half open food packs, completed the picture. My brain could hardly compute.

I took a seat on the left most random.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Steve rolled and half opened his eyes. He immediately freaked, springing out of bed in pure panic. I could have handled that better I thought.

I just let him be, while he got over his shock.

“Sir, sorry sir, sorry,” he flustered.

“No talking,” I ordered, initially confusing him, he wanted to keep going.

Personally, I wanted him as calm as he could be, as quickly as we could manage it.

He turned around two or three times, then froze and exited.

I heard him pissing in the back yard.

This just kept getting better!

He returned, then had no idea what to do. I realised he’d have to be cold from getting out of a warm bed, and standing in a shed, not much warmer than a fridge.

“Dress, then sit,” I said simply.

* * *

When he finally sat, I could see a little more. He’d turned on the single bulb hanging above us. I gestured around the garage.

“Take your time, just the facts, no apologies,” I said, calmly, “what the fuck is going on here?”

“This is where I live Sir.”

I held my hand up.

“Let’s do that again,” I said more firmly, “answer the question I’m asking.”

He took a minute.

“I can live out here for just $40 a week. I was paying $100, when I had a bedroom inside.”

I didn’t say anything, letting him continue to hang himself. He paused to think more.

“I’m not spending anywhere near all of my allowance, some weeks I can get by on just $120.” He added, “I know my allowance is $350, but you can cut that down sir. I’m a sub, I shouldn’t live too well.”

I was furious, beyond belief. It took all my will power not to explode.

“How long?” I asked simply, shocking myself with how relaxed I sounded.

“I can stay as long as I want,” he started, watching me tense.

“Three months,” he corrected quickly. I just nodded.

I stood.

“How is your arse?” I questioned, “the truth.”

“It’s sore Sir, like you said it would be.”

“But, you can move around?”

“Yes sir, walking, standing bending and stuff is ok. Sitting is tricky, taking a dump is pretty full on.”

“Ok, good.”

“You’re to load everything in your van that you want to keep.” I directed firmly. “None of that, or that comes.” I added, gesturing along the table length, then towards the bed.

“Comes?” he asked, confused.

“In an hour, you will leave this place, and drive to Clareborn Drive.” I instructed. ‘You will never be returning here.” He was shocked.

“Never?”

“Do you understand?” I barked.

“Not really sir?”

“One hour!” I stormed out.