The Runaway

Living alone in a small flat above the shop I keep in a small village on the coast has its drawbacks, but the advantage, for me, is that the shop has a large shed behind it, and a slipway of sorts. That has allowed me to haul my other home, a converted fishing boat, out of the water while I work on it in my free time. I’ve got her stripped down internally and I’m busy rebuilding her insides to suit my needs. 

I’m in my early thirties, divorced, no kids, and bisexual, a large part of the reason I’m now single. I’d hit lucky, inheriting this shop, a boat and several other properties from a very eccentric uncle shortly after my marriage failed, and I’d resigned from the police and built a new life here. The shop is my ‘living’ income, and it provides everything I need, especially in a good summer season, though I have a separate income from rentals which I use to fund my boat. The little town is a popular spot for day trips and I stock a range of the sort of things visitors generally need, plus a lot of stuff the local boat owners need on a regular basis. More recently I’ve started stocking things the surfing and diving types use, partly because I find it useful to have a wetsuit or two myself, and, if you’re a boat owner, you sometimes need to get in the water under the hull as well. 

With all the visitors you develop in instinct for them, and for the sort of things they’re likely to ask or need. As an ex-policeman I tend to take notice anyway, especially if someone looks out of place. So when a young man, twenty-ish, drifted in with just an overfilled backpack and the look of someone traveling ‘rough’, I noticed him. He arrived just before my usual closing time. It had been a slow day, and the late autumn weather was turning cold with the threat of rain as he entered and made for the sandwich fridge, greeting me with a tired smile as he passed. Something about him suggested he needed help, but didn’t know where to get it, or how to ask. His entire posture suggested a frightened deer, on the lookout for predators, and ready to take flight.

Without making it obvious, I watched him scanning the selection remaining. He was tall, slim, fair haired, with a very close crop, a buzz cut, and a slightly androgynous face. His clothes were travel stained, and showed signs of hard wear, but also that he made an effort to look after them. He had no wristwatch I noticed, and his jacket was thin and not very weatherproof, and his jeans tight fitting, showing off his butt rather nicely, even though they were very worn. His footwear drew my attention. He wore heavy looking boots with very thick soles, reminding me of orthopaedic boots, and evidently the legs at least knee length, completely at odds with the rest of his outfit, and his walk was stiff and suggested a disability. 

He took his time over the limited selection — at this end of the day mostly the fillings less popular — checking the prices and weighing what was evidently a purse. I wondered when he’d last eaten properly. He made his selection, and moved to the counter, pulling out an obviously slim wallet. 

“That it?” I asked, noting he’d not added even a bottle of water to his purchase. 

“Yeah, thanks.” His grin was lopsided. “Counting pennies.” 

His stomach growled and I picked up the package, noting it was the cheapest item in the fridge. As I made to ring it up, rain splattered against the window, and I stopped.

“You know, at this time of the day, I’m not going to move the rest of those. I’ll do you any two you like for the price of this tomato and cheese.” I saw his surprise and suspicion. “Go ahead,  no catch to it. I get fresh deliveries every morning and some of those fillings don’t keep that well.”

“If you’re sure …” The rain rattled against the window as he hesitated, then, reassured by my nod, walked to the fridge and snatched a chicken and salad sandwich.

“When last did you eat?” I asked as he put it with the cheese and tomato, and rang up only half the price of the first. “That’s one-fifteen exactly.”

“One-fifteen? but …” He stared, suspicion showing.

“One-fifteen it is.” I smiled. “Marked down.”

He carefully counted out the loose change in his wallet, and I handed him the receipt. Nodding toward the now streaming window, I asked, “Where are you staying? You’re going to get very wet getting there in this.”

“I, um, haven’t sorted that yet …” He watched the rain. “I usually just find somewhere dry, and …”

“Then you’re going to have a problem round here.” Making a decision, I said, “Look, I have to lock up and tidy up, so why don’t you take a seat over there, eat your sandwiches and I’ll have a think about who might be able to offer you somewhere to sleep.”

“Sit … here?” He looked at the streaming window. “Er, thanks … I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” I lifted my empty coffee mug from behind the till. “Fancy a coffee? I’m going to have one.”

“A coffee” He nodded, a glimmer of a smile showing. “I’d love one.” He put his backpack on the floor. “But I can make it, if you show where you do it.”

Handing him my mug, I pointed toward the door near the back of the shop. “The ‘kitchen’s’ through there. The jug’s on the counter, just refill it. You’ll find the coffee on the counter, and the milk in the fridge. I don’t take sugar, but help yourself. It’s in the bowl.”

“Thanks.”

I watched him go and set to work, turning off the lights in the window, locked the door, but left the key in the lock, did a quick cash-up and bagged it, carefully putting the bag with my stuff to go upstairs. I’d just started tidying the racks of swimming costumes when he returned with two mugs of coffee.

“Great. I need that. Put it on the counter and I’ll join you in a minute.”

Completing my usual routine I joined him. The shop isn’t that big, and I don’t keep a large stock of things I don’t get a huge demand for, just enough of the regular stuff to meet demand, so it never takes long to put everything to bed as it were. I grabbed another pack of the sandwiches for myself, and joined him.

“I’m Jorge,” I introduced myself as I sat on the stool I keep behind the counter.

“Terry,” he said. “Thanks for the food and coffee. I really needed them.”

“No need to thank me,” I replied, noting that he’d eaten both packs already. I pushed the second sandwich from my own pack toward him. Something about this kid attracted me, and I’m usually very wary. But something in this obviously frightened and very uncertain young man drew me to him, wanting to get to know him, and help him. “Finish it off, my eyes were bigger than my appetite.” I waited until he’d taken it, sipped my coffee and asked, “So what brings you to St Petroc’s Inlet?”

“Nothing, really,” he swallowed the last of the sandwich. “I’d like to find somewhere to stay, and some work, but …” He sipped the coffee. “Look, I’ll say it straight out. I’m Gay, my folks threw me out, and I dropped out of my courses at college and I’m running away from a bad situation. I haven’t got a job, and I’m out of money … I got a lift to a place about twelve miles away, and just started walking.” He put the mug down. “I was going to get a sandwich and then go and find somewhere I could sleep out of sight.”

For a moment I watched him over the rim of my mug, then I put it down. “Was that supposed to get me to throw you out? Or demand something from you?” I saw the alarm. “Because it doesn’t bother me, and I’m not someone who takes advantage of anyone down on his luck.” Taking a drink of my coffee, I continued, “So I’ll make you an offer. I live upstairs. You can sleep tonight on my sofa, and wash yourself in my shower, and your clothes in my washing machine.” I gestured at the weather. “And the tumble drier. I’ll lend you something to wear if you need it. And tomorrow we’ll have a think about what we can do to get you something more permanent.”

His face registered shock, uncertainty, suspicion, and hope. “I … Why? I mean, thanks, but I don’t want …”

“Forget it. You need a place out of the rain and the sofa’s available, plus you look like you need a break.” I gathered the two coffee mugs. “Come on, bring the sandwich wrappers and your bag and I’ll show you upstairs.” 

I rinsed the mugs and he disposed of the wrappers in the bin, then he followed me up the narrow stairs to my small flat above the shop. It’s nothing luxurious. A small bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room with a roof patio over the back of the shop. From that there is a stair that leads down to the shed and my boat, currently under covers on the slipway. 

“The sofa unfolds,” I told him. “If you want a shower, help yourself. I’ll put a towel out for you. If you’ve stuff to wash, you can give it to me when I hand you the towel and I’ll put it in my washer.”

An hour later he was looking cleaner, much more relaxed and I could sense the tension draining out of him as he relaxed in a pair of clean shorts and teeshirt and one of my fleeces on the sofa. His jeans were currently in the washing machine and the rest of his clothes, a couple of teeshirts, several rather skimpy jockstraps and socks, waited to follow as I handed him a mug of thick soup and took a seat opposite. The boots I’d noticed earlier were now next to the sofa and could only be described as ‘fetish’, the leg section extending above the knee and they were incredibly heavy.

“You walked here in those? Wasn’t it difficult?” I asked, putting down the one I’d examined. The sole was very thick, had no ‘tread’ to it, and obviously weighted with something.

“Yeah. Didn’t have much choice.” He shrugged. “They were the only footwear I had.” 

“Better tell me a bit about yourself, Terry,” I said. “And don’t worry, I’m pretty much unshockable.” I grinned. “I was in the police, stationed in one of the less salubrious parts of Blaney, so I’ve probably seen it all. I’m divorced, bi, no kids or family, keep pretty much to myself, I’m refitting a boat and when I’m done with that, may sell up here and go cruising in her.”   

For a moment the closed look was back, then he shrugged. “Not a lot to tell, sir. My folks turned me out when I came out as Gay. I had nothing. No job, no home, just what I was wearing. For a while I sofa surfed, but most of my ‘friends’ weren’t Gay, and I made then uncomfortable.” He stared at the dark window for a while. “I got into a bit of trouble trying to survive, and then found some work in a ‘club’ — The Rubbermade, in Blaney.” He saw my frown, and realised I knew of the place. “Entertainer, he called the job. Pay was shit, the ‘perks’ meant having sex with guys I often found repulsive, and being videoed doing it … At first it was okay, it’s a fetish bar, so we had to wear fetish gear all the time and he let me — and a couple of other guys — sleep in ‘rooms’ in the attic. Sometimes he made us take something that made us ‘high’ so we’d do anything the clients wanted.” He gave me a defiant look. “Yeah, I was a hooker, porn star — fuck slave.”

“Sounds bloody awful. And I knew the Club. It has something of a reputation. A lot of rumours about it, and the guy who runs it is a nasty bit of work. The Vice boys could never pin anything on him though — and they tried.”

“Yeah, I know. There was a cop, a regular customer, and a mean bastard, used to tip Darryl off. Whenever that happened, all of us ‘permanents’ would be ‘taken on holiday’ to a place he has in the country for ‘special’ clients and activities.” He indicated the boots. “These are from there, and they’re about as close to ordinary as that place gets.” He stopped, staring at the rain on the window. “The clientele are people, like the cop, who are into sadism. When we went there, we were usually doped and always restrained — and not just fun, ‘okay we’ll let you lose now we’ve had our fun’ kind of restraints. Serious stuff, and serious pain … Sometimes it took a few days to recover. And they always videoed it, for their own channel.”

“Shit. I knew that bastard was bad, but …” I stopped. “You said you were taken there to hide you from Vice raids? And for other occasions?”

“Yeah. At first it was just occasionally.” He bit his lip. “I objected after one bad session, so Darryl had me moved there permanently. I was his ‘special’ entertainer. Just for his important clients.” He shrugged. “So now you know. I’m just a whore. Nobody gives a shit about me. Why should they?”

“What? No, I mean that’s bloody awful, no one should have to endure that.” I thought about my police days, and remembered some of the Vice Squad’s stories. “Listen, Terry, by the sound of it you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” I tried again. “So how did you end up here?”

“I ran away. Some of the customers had left money for me occasionally and I hid it. I also managed to hide a few clothes in the hope I could get away. They did a very rough scene with me — chains, whips, and crack … I let them think I was overdosed … they left the door unlocked, and left me unrestrained for once. So I made a break.” He shrugged. “I had no clothes, just these boots, a rubber hood they’d locked onto me and a pair of open crotch rubber shorts, plus a slave belt and wrist cuffs …” He grimaced. “I guess they reckoned I wouldn’t get far like that, but I hid, and waited until they’d relaxed a bit, sneaked back and managed to find something I could cut the lock on the hood with, raided the laundry and got some jocks, a teeshirt and a pair of jeans, and retrieved the money I’d stashed …” He opened his back pack and pulled out a heavy latex hood, the shorts he’d mentioned and a heavy belt and cuffs. “I should have chucked these away …” A smile flashed across his face. “But somehow …” 

“Sort of ‘comfort blanket’?” I grinned, my eyes on the hood. It was thick rubber, with small eyeholes, and nose openings, and tube ‘gag’ at the mouth. Then I saw the rubber penis closing the tube. “What I don’t get is why you stayed as long as you did.”

“We didn’t have much choice. If all you’re wearing is a jockstrap and some bondage cuffs …” His expression closed again. “Look, the bastard is running a sex slave racket with a lot of blackmail on the side. I was like getting fucked four or five times a night — I was his ‘special’ as well for clients into SM and bondage. I was allowed to wear only jockstrap when not ‘entertaining’ and he made sure we couldn’t go out in anything even remotely ‘normal’ clothing. He had us tattooed, and we were treated with something that removed all our body hair. And once we accepted the room at the club, we weren’t allowed to leave, we had to live there in the club. There were four other guys, three of them out and out junkies. The door to our part was always locked, with one of his goons guarding it. I got some money from the clients sometimes, and I hid it when I got it, and managed to build up enough … But he was making a fortune out of us.” Defiantly he stood, pulled off the fleece and teeshirt and then dropped the shorts to reveal a rather nice looking cut cock and hairless crotch. He pointed to his left nipple almost hidden by a colourful tattoo design. “The tat on my tit is the club logo, and this one,” he turned to present his nice tight butt the right buttock completely covered by a very elaborate and brightly coloured design, “is Darryl’s personal mark. The bastard marked me as his property!”

I stared at the elaborate tattoo. A central figure in bondage, sucked a man’s cock, while another sucked the restrained figure’s cock and a third fucked him, all interwoven with symbols of bondage, foliage and what looked like satyrs dancing around the four figures. The name ‘Darryl’ rang a bell. It called to mind a good looking guy, driving a very flashy top of the range sports car, always flush with money, always up to something, and always just ahead of the Vice boys. The tattoo around his nipple was a vitruvian male figure in a rubber suit and hood, a closer examination showed his erection and restraints, the whole in a circle of chains and what I recognised as dildos in the spaces between the legs, arms and body, and arms and head.

“Put your clothes back, Terry,” I said quietly. “I’m not Darryl, and I won’t do to you what he did.” I paused as he turned to face me. “And I don’t want anything from you unless it’s something you want to give.” I smiled, resisting my urge to put my arms round him, kiss him, take advantage of his vulnerability … “Thanks for telling me all this. I admire your surviving it — I think I’d have snapped long before you did …”

There was a slight catch in his voice as he pulled his shorts on and said, “Look, you’ve been fantastically generous, but I don’t want to cause you any trouble. Darryl is a vindictive bastard, and he claims I’m his. He says he owns me and I know he’s got people out looking for me. If my stuff is dry, I’ll piss off, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“Don’t be bloody silly.” I waited until he was seated again. “First off, no one ‘owns’ another person, so if he does find you, he can’t simply take you if you refuse to go.” I smiled. “Second, I’ve invited you to spend the night here — with no obligations — and in the morning we can talk about what you want to do after a good night’s sleep.”

With a lot of encouragement and not a little prompting, I got a lot more out of him. Including the name of the policeman, a member of the vice squad, who always tipped off Darryl, and enjoyed himself free of charge, indulging a penchant for sadism with the ‘entertainers’. It was enough to know I needed to talk to my former colleagues, and tip them off. It was close to midnight before I helped him set up the sofa bed, and then retired to my own.

It was a while before I managed to sleep, the vision of that slim and attractive body with its colourful tattoos and hairless crotch keeping my cock stiff until I dealt with it, I hoped, quietly. Even then, I lay awake, knowing I needed to do a lot of checking. Terry’s story added up, but I needed to make sure he wasn’t going to take me for a ride. 

I could tell from the restless sounds from the living room that my guest was having trouble sleeping as well. 

I’m an early bird, and woke up around five thirty as usual. Terry was curled up like a baby on the sofa bed as I slipped into the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee quietly. It was still raining, and I knew from the forecast it was likely to continue. Sounds from the living room told me Terry was up and he use the toilet. Automatically I got out a second mug and prepared to make him a coffee, then waited. 

Standing at the kitchen counter staring out of the window I wondered what could make someone like Darryl do the things he did to vulnerable youngsters, and what he’d done to my guest. Or the kind of people who paid people like Darryl for the use of youngsters like Terry. As an ex-policeman, I had a few ideas in that direction, and I knew a few people who would probably be able to help me find out more once I knew where the bastard was based.

A quiet sound behind me made me turn. Terry stood in the doorway, naked. He looked down as our eyes met. “Jorge …” He hesitated. “Thanks for not … I mean, for  … “

I smiled. “Good morning, Terry.” I put my mug down, and faced him, aware that my ‘interest’ was visible in the shorts I’d pulled on. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.” He moved forward, his eyes still on the floor. “May I hug you?”

“Hug me?” My surprise showed, then I straightened. “Of course, Terry. If that’s what you need …”

“Thank you,” he whispered as his arms wrapped around me.

I could feel his cock hardening as it pressed against me and my own, now rigid, was trapped between us. Automatically I kissed his neck as my arms embraced him. “Terry …” I hesitated. “You don’t have to do this …”

“I want to.” He stifled a sob. “Please? Will you make love to me? Take me to your bed and make love with me? It’s the only way I can really thank you for helping me …” His face was tear streaked as he held me. “Everybody just fucks me, uses me … no one has ever made love to me …”   

I kissed him on the mouth. “Then It’s time someone did.” I kissed him more firmly, my tongue exploring. I felt him surrendering, and gently kiss-walked him back to my bedroom. 

Laying him on the bed, I shed my shorts and joined him, carefully using my hands, my lips and my body to play with his nipples, sample his erection, his balls and all the erogenous areas I could find. I took my time, trying not to rush things, trying to make the sheer pleasure last. He responded, at first timidly, then with increasing enjoyment as we explored each other’s bodies. 

He whimpered as I sucked his gorgeous cock, playing him carefully to maintain his pleasure. Eventually he erupted and I sucked his cum down with satisfaction. I didn’t release him immediately, instead enjoying the taste of his cum and his slowly softening cock, and teasing his hypersensitive glans with my tongue drawing moans and whimpers of pleasure from him

Moving so I could lie next to him, I pulled the duvet over us and just held him tight in my arms as my lips sought his and we kissed gently. After a moment he put his arms round me and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Jorge …”

“For what? A little love and tenderness, Terry? I wouldn’t do it for just anybody, you know.” I kissed him again. “But when I saw you yesterday …”

He buried his face in my neck, and I felt the sobs. I let him cry, just holding him and caressing his back gently. After a while the sobs stopped, and he sighed. “Thank you, Jorge.” He drew back and smiled. “When I saw you, I hoped … and then you gave me the sandwich … I want to give you something …”

“You already have, Terry.” I smiled. “More than you can know …”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not yet.” He kissed my cheek. “You haven’t cum, and I want you to have that .…” He smiled. “And I want you to fuck me …”

My rigid cock wanted it, but I hesitated. “You sure?”

In response he rolled on his back, pulling me on top of him as he spread and raised his legs. “Yes.” He hugged me close, his mouth locking to mine. “Yes,” he sighed. “Make love to me. Fill my pussy with your cum Make love to me like you did to your wife. Show me what a real lover is like …”

I didn’t need another invitation. With his legs over my shoulders I entered him, and sank my throbbing cock deep into his eager opening. He was certainly skilled in giving his partner the utmost pleasure this way, and somehow we managed to prolong the pleasure just long enough for me to know I had never experienced anything like it before.

Some time later I made my way downstairs to open the shop, take in the sandwich delivery and get the day started. My head still in a whirl over the fabulous sex with the gorgeous and wounded young man upstairs, still in my bed. The rain continued, and as is always the case, made business very slow. I made a couple of phone calls, and got the answers I needed, then had a chat to a guy I knew had been after Darryl for a long time. Then I had another thought, and contacted another friend, and ran a check on Terry. His story checked out completely — as far as his record up to his ‘disappearance’ could be checked. It seemed that he’d had a run-in with the law for ‘soliciting’, been cautioned by the Police, and then vanished. 

The custom was almost non-existent, typical for this late in the season and a wet day. It gave me plenty of time to consider what I wanted to do with this clearly damaged, and very attractive young man. The day brightened considerably at midmorning when Terry came down the backstairs with two mugs of coffee, looking happy, freshly showered, in his worn but clean jeans. That he had nothing under them showed. His tight teeshirt showed his nipples and the tattoo was discernible. Heavy rubber cuffs decorated his wrists and, I noticed, his feet once more in the heavy and restrictive boots.

He looked radiantly happy as he moved to the front of the counter and offered me a mug.

“You look like the cat that got the cream.” I teased. “And you seem attached to those boots of yours.” I indicated the cuffs. “Are those for show or do you have something in mind?”

“I did,” he retorted. “Better than that. I got a double dose from someone who treated me like a lover!” He chuckled. “And I haven’t much choice in footwear — plus, I’m rather attached to them.” He grinned. “And I just thought the cuffs might give you some ideas …”

“Then why not?” I laughed. “As for the ‘cream’, it was a pleasure, Terry. And I hope you intend to stay, because I think I’ve something to offer you besides that.”

“And if all I want is …” He grinned impishly. “As long as this offer includes regular helpings of … cream.”

“Cheeky.” I laughed. “Well, it could, but first, let’s talk about work. You said last night that you’d studied marketing?”

“Yeah. Didn’t finish the course though.”

“Okay, but I was thinking. I can’t really offer you much, but if you’re willing to work for me and run this place some days so I can work on the boat or take a day off from time to time, I think I can afford to pay you the minimum wage.” I watched his face. “Accommodation included, of course. Assuming you …”

His kiss cut off the rest of my speech.

“I take it that’s a yes?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Yes.” He sniffed, and I handed him a tissue. “But what if Darryl finds me …”

“Leave that one with me. I know someone who has been wanting to burn Darryl and his game for a very long time. I talked to him this morning. Darryl will be toast.” I frowned. “So will someone in my old Force that’s been covering for him.”

“I don’t want to have to give evidence … I can’t. They’ll kill me if they find out where I am …” Terry looked terrified.

“You won’t have to, Terry. That I can promise.” I walked round the counter and took his hands. “There won’t be any need if this goes as my friend hopes — and there’s no way he’d put you in a position to be recognised, but I will need you to ID a photo for me.”

“I can’t let them find me. I won’t …”

“They won’t.” I held him. “Trust me, Terry. You’re safe here, with me. The nightmare is over.”

It took the rest of the week to convince him that he was safe. Terry was as nervous as a cat for the first few days, hiding whenever he heard someone in the shop, and refusing to go outside, but gradually he relaxed. I did, at least, get him checked over by our doctor, coincidentally, also Gay.

“Terry, you’re a bit underweight, but otherwise in good shape.” Doc Milan, a well built Eastern European, put his stethoscope away. “You’ve some interesting bruises and marks on your back — and I must say, the tattoos are impressive and you seem to suffer a form of alopecia — a lack of hair on the body, but otherwise you’re in great health.” He glanced at me and I shook my head. “Well, you’re in good hands with Jorge.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Terry glanced at me, the question unasked. 

“No worries, Terry, Milo is like us, and this is a fairly open minded town.” To Milo I added, “Terry is going to be working for me and living in my flat for the foreseeable.”

Milo laughed. “Taken you long enough to find someone and come out, Jorge.” He grinned. He paused, then asked, “How long have you been hairless on your body? I’ve seen something in one of my journals about some treatment that induces it.”

Terry looked at me, his eyes almost pleading. “Um, I wasn’t like this until about two years ago. Then, well, a doctor my employer used prescribed a cream we had to use twice a day …”

“Ah.” Milo glanced at me. “I thought so, medically induced alopecia.” He smiled. “Well, it isn’t a problem health-wise, so if it doesn’t bother you …”

“Actually, I like it,” Terry glanced at me, his look hopeful. “And I hope Jorge likes me like this …”

“Congratulations to you both. Terry, you’ve caught a good man — hang onto him.” Milo smiled. “And I think ‘likes’ is probably an understatement.”

“I know. He’s wonderful, and I plan to stay as long as he’ll let me.”

“Then you’re in for a long haul, kid,” I said, slipping an arm round him. “Come on, now Milo’s finished admiring your assets, I want to take you to the outfitters. A few things like underwear, some lighter footwear, some jeans and a shirt or two are in order I think.” 

We got back to the flat with several bags, two pairs of slip on shoes, and the jeans and shirts he chose. Underwear, however, he wasn’t keen on.

“A jockstrap’s all I need, Jorge,” he assured me. “I’ll wear briefs if you insist, but I prefer a jock, or a tanga.” He grinned. “I don’t like the way briefs push my butt cheeks together.”

“Showing off that delicious derrière?” I laughed. “Well, if that’s what you prefer, I’m not complaining.”

The new jeans, a stretch material, certainly showed off his lovely butt, and I followed him up the stairs feeling my libido stirring.

The one problem was replacing his ID. Darryl had gone to great lengths to ‘vanish’ Terry, and it took a lot of work, and a few favours, to sort it out. On the advice of my Vice Squad contact though, we managed to give Terry a new surname, and with it, a new ID number and tax registration. With this done, and his buzzcut hair growing out, Terry began to lose his fear, and enjoy his new life.

As he got to know more of my regular customers, he began to show his real nature, friendly, polite and honest. He worked like a demon around the flat, and persuaded me to reorganise the shop. And in the evenings he wouldn’t let me lift a finger. Instead I got to do a lot on the boat, and the re-organised shop was a huge improvement.“It’s a no brainer,” Terry told me. “Moving all your slow moving stuff to where people have to pass it to get to the stuff they came in to buy …” He grinned. “Increases the chance of them seeing something and deciding they absolutely have to have it.” 

The flat was transformed. Previously, it was comfortable, but little more than where I ate and slept. Terry turned it into a home. He cooked for me, he cleaned, he did the laundry, even turned the roof patio into a little haven, and in bed … 

My former colleague sent me several photos by email, and Terry identified the rogue cop. I deleted the images and the email after responding and so did my ex-colleague.

With the change of season, customers in the shop dropped off to the point we had days with no customers at all. Terry, for his part, had settled well, and our relationship developed with his trust. He had some very kinky desires though, and it took me a while to find ways. To help him deal with some of them. Coupled with his libido, his wearing only jockstraps as underwear with his snug fitting jeans, kept my own libido on the raised end. And he really found anything rubber a big turn-on, so much so that he found it difficult attending to customers if it involved anything rubber.

“I’ll put a sign in the door that we’ll only open on the weekends over the winter.” I looked around the re-organised displays. “We can pack away a lot of the small stuff and the hanging racks we can cover with dust cloths.”

“What about the wetsuits?” Terry asked. “Do they need any special care? Are they like latex gear? Needing silicon polish regularly?”

“No, they’re neoprene, which is different. They’ll be okay under cover.” I grinned. “They only need care once they’re worn and used in the sea. Then you need to rinse the salt out of them regularly.” 

“They look interesting.” Terry pulled one out. “Very erotic.” He grinned, his expression naughty. “But no way to access the fun bits once it’s on …”

“I dare say that could be arranged,” I retorted. “It’d be a special order though!” I put my hand on his waist. “But you’d look stunning in one with or without ‘access’.”

“You say the nicest things, Jorge.” He kissed me gently. “Can I try one?”

“Of course, but let me pick one for you.” I looked at him, gauging his size. “I think I’ve got just the right one here.” I pulled out a suit. It was an expensive outfit, intended for diving, which included a hood. I’d bought it in speculatively, but it had never found a buyer. “Here you go. THis should fit you like a glove, but you’ll probably need help with the zip.”

“But that’s …” He swallowed, glancing from the suit to me. “It’s the top make — the most expensive …”

“I know, and it’s perfect for you.” Pushing it into his arms, I said, “Take it upstairs and try it. I’ll lock up and help you with the zip.”

I was right, the suit fitted him like a glove, and he looked stunning in it. He knew it as well, and his erection showed clearly though the snug fit of the neoprene. With the zip closed, he turned to face me, his smile absolutely radiant. 

“Like it? Does it look good on..?”

“You look stunning,” I slipped my arms round his waist and pulled him into a hug. “It was made for you. How’s it feel?”

“Fabulous.” His hug was firm but still tentative in some way. “The only problem is you can’t …” He kissed me firmly, his hands undoing my belt and my zip. “But I can give my lover what he likes …” Then he was on his knees, and my cock was in his mouth …

“Terry …” I gasped. “Terry, wait …” I gripped his neoprene covered head. “Stop, my love … Let’s get on the bed …”

His response was to push his head forward until my full length was in his mouth and top of his throat. I groaned as he gripped my buttocks, to hold himself in position, and shuffled with me until I could sit on the bed. Then he set to work.

I’d never experienced anything like what he was doing. Not once did he allow my penis to leave his mouth, and the sensations he produced in my cock were astonishing. When, finally he let me cum, it was, in the French phrase, a ‘little death’ experience. I was still getting my breath back as he moved to stand and then pulled me into his arms and gave me the most passionate kiss imaginable.

I tasted my cum on his lips and tongue, and surrendered myself to his ministrations. My jeans, my shoes, socks and shirt all vanished along the way, and then my neoprene clad lover was once more feasting on my cock. 

“Stay here, my darling,” Terry whispered as he finally brought me to a second massive climax. “I’m going to make us some supper …” He kissed me again. “And then, my love, I’m going to show you why Darryl kept me at his ‘special’ place. I want you to enjoy me …” 

“Terry …” I reached out to touch him. “You don’t have to …”

“I know, but I want too.” He blew me a kiss. “Don’t go away, beloved.”

“I think I’ve already discovered it.” I watched him vanish into the kitchen and lay back, savouring the feeling his lovemaking had left me. 

Soon he was back, still sheathed in the neoprene, but now with a plate of sandwiches and cups of soup. We ate propped up against the headboard and pillows, and when we’d eaten he cleared the plates and cups, and said, “Unzip me, beloved. I want to give you the main course.”

“I thought you’d already had it, greedy boy.” I drew the zipper all the way down his back.

“Mmm, I have, or at least the first course, but now it’s your turn, my darling Jorge.” He peeled the suit, carefully turning it inside out and laying it out across the kist at the foot of the bed. “Now it’s your turn to help yourself, my love.” He straddled me and bent forward to kiss my mouth. “My balls are loaded and I’m yours to enjoy.”

“Then stay as you are.” I grinned up at him. “You’re perfectly positioned …” I reached behind him and positioned my erection, then pressed myself against his sphincter. “First I think, another dose of me, and then I’m going to enjoy that gorgeous part of you and empty those balls …”

He laughed, and gradually sank down, accepting my cock into his manhole. “Mmmm, now that feels good …”

It was a long, slow fuck. It usually is when I’ve already had one ejaculation, and now both of us took our time and enjoyed it to the full. When I’d filled him with my cum, we switched positions, and now I set to work with my mouth to bring him to the climax he so richly deserved. Our lovemaking lasted far into the evening, and I did learn why Darryl had been so determined to keep him in his service. Put simply, there was almost no sexual act or position Terry was not capable of performing and enjoying. He was simply amazing in bed.

After this the wetsuit featured in our sexual activity at regular intervals. I bought him a made to measure latex suit, a ‘muscle suit’ for myself and several latex jockstraps, one with a special enhancing pouch that he kept for special occasions when we went out to eat. He started making friends in the town as well, especially among the young guys in town.

He made no secret of his preference for male sex, sometimes making outrageous passes at his friends. Neither of us made any attempt to hide the fact we were a couple, and by and large, it was accepted in town. Terry even had girls who preferred his company, or sought it if we were out for a beer or a walk. He was just a lovely person, always friendly, and always willing to help anyone who needed it. But sometimes I sensed he was always wrestling with some, as yet, undisclosed inner demon. I knew when it was giving him trouble, because I’d come home to a lover wearing the boots he’d arrived in, the open crotch shorts, the hood and the slave belt — and a request to be restrained, gagged and fucked.

For his birthday I took him out to dinner, and when we came home, he’d insisted on getting rubbered up, restrained and then giving me a fabulous sex session. Then, a few months later, he discovered my birthday. I’d not given it any thought, as my birthdays have never really meant much to me.

“It’s your birthday, Jorge, and you didn’t tell me.” Terry’s expression told me he felt I’d been hiding it. We’d celebrated his a few weeks earlier with a great meal at a restaurant, and some friends. I’d given him a latex suit, and a few toys, and we’d had a fabulous sex session afterwards. That it had coincided with the news that Darryl and his entire operation had been exposed, and Darryl himself and his henchmen were now behind bars for lengthy sentences, had made it even better.

“I stopped celebrating them a while ago, love.” I kissed him. “It’s just another year gone.”

“No! It’s important.” Terry was clearly upset. “Especially your birthday! It’s got to be special.”

“It is,” I told him, drawing him into a hug. “Besides, I’ve got everything I could possibly want right here in my arms.” 

For a moment, he was quiet, then he said, “But everything I have, and everything I am now, is because of you.” He hesitated. “Okay, I know what I’m giving you.” He smiled, and kissed me. “Right. I need a few things from stock, and then you must promise not to come upstairs until closing time.” His happiness transmitted itself to me. “No peeking while I collect the stuff I need, and when you do come upstairs, you must follow the instructions I’ll leave on the stairs …”

Releasing him, I laughed. “Okay, I promise. Help yourself. I’ll be coming up at six, as usual.”

“I promise you’ll never forget this birthday!” He added over his shoulder, hurrying to the back of the shop where we now had all the hardware laid out. 

I kept my promise, but it was difficult. I mean, it isn’t easy not to notice when someone is going through stock such as mooring chain. I did my best to ignore what he was doing, and busied myself at the front of the shop out of sight of the hardware, sorting the wetsuits, swimming and beach gear. It was amazing how much better the sales of these items were since Terry had reorganised the layout. He’d worked out what the things were that most people came in to buy, and then arranged the shop so that to get to them a customer had to go past what he called the ‘impulse’ items.

The result was a lot more movement of the ‘impulse’ items and no reduction in the sales of the regulars. Overall, the shop not only looked better, it functioned better and my customers told me they now knew they could get things from me they’d previously travelled some distance to get because they’d not seen it in my shop.

I closed up as usual at five, not having seen a customer for at least a half hour. With the till cashed up and the money safely put away, I dropped the shutters, turned off the display lights, checked the sandwich fridge and went through my usual routine for the evening. Promptly at six I mounted the stairs to the flat and found a lengthy note attached to the door.

“Happy Birthday to the best lover anyone could ever have. Your birthday present is waiting for you in the bedroom, but first you must put on the items set out for you in the living room. When you are dressed, enter the bedroom and make use of the toy on the bed for your pleasure. This toy is fully at your disposal. It cannot refuse you anything. In fact it wants you to make full use of it as you find it, for the night. Love, Your Birthday Gift.”

 Intrigued, I opened the door, entered and checked to see what he’d laid out for me to wear, not sure what to expect.

On the sofa he’d laid out a latex ‘muscle suit’ with an open crotch, leather half face mask, leather cuffs that went from wrist to mid-forearm, a half harness and a leather jockstrap. On the floor there was a pair of shiny riding boots I recognised as coming from stock I’d ordered for someone only to have them fail to collect them, and coincidentally my size.

“What are you planning?” I asked quietly. The bedroom door was closed, and no sound came from there as I changed, awkwardly, since the harness and the mask needed a little adjustment, I found myself enjoying the outfit, and looking forward to whatever game Terry had set up. Then I moved to the door, to find another note attached to it.

“Beloved Jorge, through this door is your present. It is not a person, it is an object to be used and enjoyed for your sexual pleasure. It expects to be fucked, to be made to suck your cock, and to have its cock used for your pleasure however you desire. It cannot speak, and it cannot be released from this bondage until you have filled its oral pussy and its manhole with cum at least three times. The dildo and the plug must be replaced after each use.Only when you’ve fed it your cum at least three times will it reveal where the keys may be found. Enjoy it. With all my love. It.”

I stared at the note. “What the hell does this mean ..?” 

Opening the door, I stared in amazement. How the hell had he managed to put himself in this position without help? He was wearing the rubber hood he’d shown me briefly on his first night here, and the crotchless shorts, and the thigh length boots. The slave belt was tight around his waist, and chains attached to this secured him to the bed. His booted legs were raised and drawn back, and chains from his thigh cuffs — part of the boots — and ankle cuffs, secured them in this position to the bedhead, with his butt exposed and his genitals available. The base of a hefty butt plug covered his anus and his arms were stretched to the ends of the bedhead. A remote control rested at the the foot of the bed nearest the door, with another note.

“The butt plug is also a vibrator. This will activate it at a preset level close to Its maximum. Please test it now. When you make use of your toy’s pussy, please replace the plug and activate it once you have impregnated it. This Object should be subjected to this torture at all times when you are not enjoying its services. Please activate the plug immediately.”

“You really want ..?”

He nodded.

I pressed the switch. The plug began to buzz, and a long moan came from beneath the gag. His separated testicles moved in their tight confines, and his cock jerked rigid. His scrotum was tightly secured by two loops that separated his testicles, so that there was one on each side of his now rigid penis. From the writhing and moans, and the way his cock was reacting, this strap arrangement made it impossible for him to ejaculate. I could only guess what it must feel like to have that vibrating thing inside him, stimulating him, and yet being unable to discharge his balls … Now I knew what sort of sequence I should use to pleasure myself as he seemed to want me too. 

I positioned myself astride his chest, carefully withdrew the dildo from the tube gag and inserted my cock. The effect was immediate. He sucked me deep, raising his head to take my full length. Within minutes, I couldn’t control myself, and I fucked his face, flooding his mouth with my cum, and making him gag. Making sure he was okay, I replaced the dildo gag and then checked his cock, now hyper sensitised, precum dribbling in a continuous stream, and repositioned myself to insert him into my hole. It was an amazing sensation, since the vibrator inside him was transmitting its vibration up his organ and into me.

Carefully I rode his vibrating penis, feeling him suffer attempts to cum and being unable to do so. With my own cock now once again rigid, I eased myself off him, killed the vibrator and gently withdrew it from his anus. 

“And now, my love, I’m going to really enjoy this present.” My cock slipped into him with no resistance, but as soon as I was fully inside him, he tightened his sphincter. He certainly knew how to use that muscle to maximise the sensation one gets from a good fuck, and this was a sensational fuck. It lasted a long time as well, because, having shot one load, I was taking time to reload, but when I did, the sensation was almost enough to make me faint.

When I finally withdrew, he squirmed, moaned and tried to indicate that I must replace his plug, so I did. Activating it brought his cock to attention again, and I got the message. Once again I positioned myself, and inserted him into my butt. It took longer this time for me to regain a full erection, but once it returned, I knew I would have to wait a while before I could shoot another load, and his note said it had to be at least three loads.

I decided to use its mouth again, and repositioned myself, removed the dildo and inserted my cock into the tube. The response was immediate, and I can only describe it as loving. He responded to my every movement and sound and gave me a fabulous oral fuck. As I expected, it lasted a long time, but he enjoyed it and so did I. When I replaced the dildo, I impaled myself on his cock again, but now took time to play with his nipples, explore his muscles and caress his arms until I was once again hardened, and now I removed the butt plug and took my time fucking that gorgeous butt.

Having filled him with a fourth load, I replaced his plug, and activated it, then turned my attention to the straps on his balls. 

“Now, It, you are going to give me all that lovely cream you’ve built up …” I released first one testicle, and then the second, drawing a long moan from his gagged mouth. Quickly I engulfed his rigid glans with my mouth. His control was remarkable. He held out for several minutes, but, finally, surrendered, thrusting into my mouth against his chains as his cream erupted in great hot spurts. I slurped down his hot jizm hungrily.

With a long sigh, he opened his hand, revealing a key. Taking it, I tried it on the nearest lock. He shook his head, and moved his hooded head, revealing the locked zip. The lock snapped open and I opened the hood and removed it reveal his happy face as he grinned up at me. 

“I’m sure you owe me at least one more dose of cum, sir. So I can’t tell you where the keys are yet …” He grinned. “Happy birthday, beloved. Now you know what used to happen to me when I was rented to special clients …”

I kissed him gently. “Best birthday present a man could possibly get.” I made to turn off the vibrator. 

“No love, leave it. Strap my balls up the way the were too. Let me get hard again, and put the hood back. Remember, I’m your sex toy. I’m not Terry, I’m nothing but a toy to be fucked and enjoyed for your pleasure. Release my legs if you like, it gives me cramp to stay like this too long. The key for those locks is inside my left boot.” He grinned. “Normally they’d have been fastened to chains from the ceiling, and not doubled back like this …” He laughed. “But I didn’t think you’d appreciate me fixing eyebolts into the ceiling.”

“Too right!” I glanced at the ceiling. “Is this how you were, um, usually used at …”

“Often, sometimes much more intense.” He shuddered as I finished securing his balls. “This vibro-plug is a small one, and I’m not as high on the stuff the gag and the plug deliver especially as I haven’t had the stuff they fed us before we were given to a client — it turned us into absolute animals; seeing things, intensified every touch, every sensation … this just makes the sex very intense.” 

I finished releasing his legs and gently helped him into a more comfortable position. “How’s that?”

“Mmm, nice, but now attach the chains so I can’t move them.” He shuddered again, and bit his lip. “And put the hood back …” He screwed up his eyes. “I need that gag, I’m only just … stopping myself …”

“I will, but first we’re both going to have something to drink.” I fetched a couple of isotonic drinks from the shop, and then made him drink some.

It didn’t take long to attach the chains to his ankles and then to the tops of his boots so his legs were now held splayed but more comfortably. Picking up the hood I bent down and kissed his mouth. “Have I told you I love you?” I kissed him again. “And I’m never going to let you go …”

“Promises, promises,” He whimpered. “And I’m never going to leave you …”

I fitted the hood and zipped it closed, then stood back and studied the helpless figure. The new position actually made access to his mouth and his cock easier. It also changed the access to his butt, but this didn’t bother me. By now my balls were all but empty, which prolonged my duration in fucking him. His own endurance was extending as well, and I enjoyed giving hs cock the most extensive workout we’d yet managed. Eventually, having facefucked him once more, and taken another dose of his cum into my manhole, I was exhausted, and settled myself beside him. 

“Terry, I’m going to release you now, and we’re going to get some sleep.” I kissed the rubber encased head and turned off the vibrator. “You’d best tell me where all the keys are …”

With a sigh, he turned his head to allow me to remove the hood, then offered his lips for a kiss. “You’re a star, Jorge. A real man …” He sighed again. “They used to put two clients at a time onto me like this.” He grinned. “And you were better than all of them.”

“Thanks, I think,” I kissed him again. “Now where are these keys, or do I have to cut them free?”

Holding him in my arms, wearing only the latex ‘muscle suit’ and Terry in just his crotchless Bermudas, I asked, “If this was how they kept you at the club, how did you escape?” I recalled his saying they used to dope him on something as well. “Were you still high on something?”

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Okay, but I do want to know how you got away dressed like a fetishists dream.”

“I was still pretty high on the pills and the gels in the gag and the plug they dosed us with — it made me a bit, I don’t know, I suppose you’d call it detached. Everything seemed to be intensified, but as if it was all happening to someone else. Anyway, they’d released me — I was full of cum, I lost count of how many cocks I’d sucked or how many had fucked me, and no one had allowed me to shoot a load, so I was still hard as a nail, and loaded when they put me on the bed in my ‘cell’.” He paused. “Something happened somewhere upstairs, and the guys sorting me out, just left me there. They didn’t lock the door and didn’t attach the chain they normally locked to my ankle — they just left me. In the outfit I’d been in the dungeon in, hood, boots, ball strap, plug — the lot.” 

He paused, and I could sense he was trying to recall it.

“At first I just lay there, but nobody came, so I got up, found my little stash of money, and walked out. I was in the basement, which was where they kept all the equipment and us ‘toy boys’, and I found the door to the outside and opened it. It was just bolted from the inside, but when I got to the top of the stairs, I suddenly realised that walking around the way I was dressed, I wouldn’t get far — I guess the dope was wearing off — and the first place they’d look would be in the grounds.” He giggled. “So I went back down the stairs, made sure the door stayed open, and then explored the equipment stores and a workshop. In the workshop I found a cutter that allowed me to cut the lock on the hood zip, and I got that off, a bit more exploration I found a laundry and helped myself to a pair of jeans, a couple of clean jockstraps and a teeshirt. Then I hid in one of the equipment stores.” 

“How long did you hide?”

“They must have discovered I was gone soon after I escaped, but it was hilarious. I hid in a sort of mummy case in the passage, which has eyeholes and a few ‘interesting’ internal fittings. They must have walked past me a dozen times. They searched the grounds — everywhere except the dungeons and the equipment stores. I waited until the next evening — I’d found a backpack they used to keep plugs and things in and stuffed everything into it, then I let myself out again and walked around the fences looking for a way out.” He giggled again. “I couldn’t find one, so I snuck back to the house and hid in a truck they used to take the rubbish out and fetch supplies from town. As soon as it stopped at the depot, slipped out while the driver was talking to the store man, and legged it.” He rolled to face me. “Not easy in those boots, but I couldn’t find anything else … so I kept them on and all the other ‘gear’ they’d last used on me.” He kissed me gently on the lips. “I’m glad I did.” 

“So am I,” I agreed, pulling him tight to me. Our mouths met in a long kiss. “So am I …”

The final long weekend of the summer season was the busiest I’d ever experienced. In complete contrast to the previous year, it was dry, warm and sunny. Terry was in his element and by the end of the weekend we’d moved stock to the point I needed to do a major re-order of almost everything we stocked. The wetsuit rack was all but empty, with only one woman’s suit and three children’s left. Likewise the bathing costumes, male, female, children, of all kinds were down to the last few of the least popular styles. Even the beach toys seems to have been almost cleared out, remarkable since we are right on the end of the town’s promenade.

We closed up and I followed Terry upstairs. He made us coffee while I set up chairs on the patio. This is our private space. It cannot be seen from the water or the ground, and nothing overlooks it. Terry joined me with the coffees and some biscuits.

“Have you remembered the date, my love?” I asked as he put everything down. 

“Could I forget?” He slipped his arms round my waist as we moved together. “It’s almost a year since I arrived here, on the run, lost, broke … and met the most fantastic person in the world.” He kissed me lovingly, adding, “But this time it isn’t raining, and I’m not homeless.” 

“Funny you should say that,” I teased, hugging him. “I met this frightened runaway fetishist who completely changed my life almost exactly a year ago, and just downstairs, and today the sun is shining and I have that runaway fetishist right here in my arms.”

We moved together our arms wrapping one another as we embraced. Our mouths met in a prolonged and loving kiss.

“I’ve no regrets,” he whispered. “How about you?”

“None,” I kissed his forehead. “No, actually, I do have one. It’s not really a regret, it’s something I have been too timid to ask …” 

“What’s that, love?”

“Two things, first of all, what’s it like being totally helpless and fucked — like you were — and when you made my birthday so special?” I kissed him. “The second one has to wait until I’ve actually experienced it …” 

Holding me tight, he stared into my eyes. “You want to know what it’s like to be turned into a sex object?”

“Yes, but …” I hesitated. “No, I want you to do it to me. The whole thing. Everything. And then use me for your sexual pleasure.”

“You really want that?” He hugged me. “It’s intense, very intense.” He paused. “Wait here, I need to fetch the hood and the plug so I can explain something …”

“I’m not going anywhere, my darling.” I released him and watched him walk to the bedroom. While I waited I nibbled some of the biscuits and drank some coffee, putting the mug down as he returned holding the butt plug vibrator and the hood.

“Remember I told you the plug and the dildo gag had to be replaced after you’d fucked my face or my butt?”

“Yes. I guessed it had to do with keeping you controlled.”

“That’s one thing.” He withdrew the dildo gag and showed me a small opening in the perfectly moulded glans, right where the opening would be on a real penis. “This gets filled with a special gel. It reacts with the sperm residue in your mouth, and basically turns you into a nymphomaniac. The more cum you get, the stronger the effect on you.” He lifted the butt plug. “And this gets filled with a similar preparation and does the same at the other end. It also does something to your prostate — basically paralyses it, which means you get all the sensations of ejaculating, but don’t actually shoot the load.” He handed it to me. “If you remember, after your birthday, I was walking around with an erection and pretty much permanently randy for a day or so after.”

“I remember. Every time we were alone you wanted to suck my cock, or have me suck yours.” I studied the plug. “When you were in the Dungeon Club, is this what they did regularly?” Another thought popped up. “You’ve got a supply of the stuff that loads these?”

“Yeah, they kept us loaded with it. When you’re getting it daily it sort of keeps you in a permanent state of orgasm.” He grinned. “And, yes, we have a supply. Probably enough for our use for the rest of our lives. When I grabbed a backpack in my escape, the backpack I grabbed had four full containers of this stuff in it. That’s around four kilos of it, and you use about ten grams per load.” His amusement at my surprise showed. “Still want to try it?”

“Yes.” I kissed him. “I do. Put the hood on me, and let’s get started.” 

“Okay.” He laughed. “It’ll take a while to get everything set up, and I can tell you, you won’t be in a state to open the shop tomorrow. It has a very intense affect on you the first time.” He indicated the seat. “Sit down and I’ll fit the hood on you.”

He was right about the time it needed to get me rigged up and secured in position. The hood was tighter on me than on his head, and the boots more restrictive than I’d appreciated. And they were extremely heavy. The soles, he told me, were filled with lead. I quickly realised why his gait, when he wore them, was so odd. Not only was the weight a problem, but the ‘legs’ were tight and didn’t allow full movement of the knee. Then he secured me to the bed using the same chains he’d rigged for my birthday. It was restrictive being folded at the hips, with my legs drawn up and spread to the sides. He tightened the chains until I could move mere millimetres. 

He dressed in his latex catsuit, pulled on the riding boots, and the upper body harness, the leather sleeve cuffs and the leather facemark I’d worn.

“And now, my love, I can do the final touches to you.” He knelt on the bed next to me. “I’ve loaded the dildo with a small dose of the gel. Any last words before I turn you into my toy?”

With the thick tube gag holding my mouth open, I tried to say ‘I love you’, but it came out as, “Eh, uh, oo.”

He chuckled. “You’re supposed to beg for mercy — I did.” 

He inserted the dildo into the tube before I could attempt a response, and I tasted the sweet oily substance now leaking from the dildo reservoir. Then he was at my scrotum, and I moaned as he strapped my balls into tight separation. I was still trying to get used to that when I felt him pushing the big tapered plug into my butt. I whimpered as it went fully home. Then I felt him operate the switch I knew was in the exposed base.

“From now on, you are nothing but a living sex toy,” he said, and activated the vibrator.

Even though I was expecting it, I strained against the chains holding me and screamed into the gag and the hood. For a few seconds I fought it, and the incredible sensation in my rigid cock. There was no escape, and gradually the stuff in the gag and in the plug began to work in my system. My resistance collapsed, all I wanted was for him to feed me his cock, fill me with his cum, enjoy my helplessness and fuck me …

He straddled my chest, and I was aware of the dildo gag being withdraw, then his gorgeous cock was in my mouth and demanding my attention. I lost awareness of time, his cum filled my mouth and throat, the dildo was back and shortly after my rational mind sort of detached itself from the sensations in my cock as he rode it, fucking himself on me, in my butt as he fucked me … My being screamed for an ejaculation, but never got it. Over the next several hours — as I later learned — I got three loads of his cum in my butt and the same in my mouth.

Time stood still, my detached self enjoyed watching him use me, until eventually he allowed me to cum. But then things got weird. My libido was off the scale, and he kept me restrained, but I had memories of fantastic fellatio, and even more fantastic fucks as he rode my erection. I was only vaguely aware of having the hood removed, and the butt plug. In between I slept, comfortably wrapped in his arms, though I dreamed of having sex, and had moments when I was sure I was out of bed, with Terry helping me … 

The sun was high in the sky when I finally woke up, confused, but feeling on top of the world and still randy. The only reminder of the previous night’s activity being the fact I still wore the open crotch shorts and the boots. Then I realised that I was still restrained, my wrists attached to chains fastened to the sides of the bed, with the slave belt secured to my waist and chains from it kept me in place. My legs appeared to be hobbled with something linking the boots at both my thighs and ankles. And I was randy, my cock rigid with desire.

Terry appeared in the doorway, a mug of coffee in hand. “Good you’re recovering.” He smiled in obvious relief. “Enjoying yourself? You’ve had me worried for the last day or so. You were really out of it, and I see I need to give you another relief.”

“Out of it?” I eased my position, aware my wrists were secured. “What happened? How long …”

He put the mug down and bent down to kiss me. “I messed up. When I loaded the plug and the gag, I gave it the dose I was getting.” He grimaced. “Ten grams. I forgot that they’d been giving me an increased dose over eighteen months. Starting at two grams …” He sat, his hand reaching for my erection. “I’m sorry, Jorge. And today’s Wednesday. You’ve been out of it since Monday night …”

I pushed my cock into his hand and gave him a smile. “Well, I asked for it.” Biting my lip as I enjoyed the gentle stroking of my rigid cock, I asked, “Is this how you lived for eighteen months?”

“More or less,” he replied, holding my gaze. “Sometimes it was worse than others, but you build up a sort of tolerance to the gel …” He grinned. “I was a bit past the point they should have upped my dose, so I faked it, and they didn’t restrain me as they normally did when they got called away.”

“Today’s Wednesday?” I groaned. “Have you ..?”

“Don’t worry, the shop’s fine. Yesterday I put up a notice saying we’d taken a day off, and today’s been very slow.” He grinned. “Now, I expect you’re starving and thirsty, so I’m going to give this gorgeous cock what it so desperately wants, and then I’m going to get some food and drink into you …”

“You don’t …” I surrendered as his mouth engulfed my glans and he began to give me a fabulous, gentle, loving and exquisite blowjob.

Later, he released me from the chains and helped me stand, then freed my legs and lead me to the living room where he’d laid out a light meal. By the time I’d eaten and drunk several glasses of the juice mix he’d prepared I was feeling more myself, but my libido was soaring again.

Terry laughed. “Okay, I figured you’d be reloaded by the time we’d eaten.” He dropped his jeans. “Go for it. I’m lubed and ready — take me as we are over the back of the sofa.” He looked over his shoulder as I entered him and said, “And when you’ve emptied those beautiful balls, you still have to ask me the second question you had the night you asked me to restrain you …”

“Second question?” I had to think. Then it came back to me. “Yes, and I’ll ask it now. Terry, will you marry me?”

“Of course,” he gasped as I increased my pace. “I thought you’d never ask …” He chuckled. “Do I get another tattoo?”

“I think …” I thrust myself deep and let my cock erupt. “I think we both do … You can design it and decide where it goes on me, my love.” I kissed his neck. “And I’m going to get the same tattoos you have done on me.”

It was Saturday before I’d finally got back to something like normal, but the memory of being helpless, my logical, rational being detached, and the incredible sexual experiences my body endured while that happened, remained. More than that, it left me with the desire for it to happen again.

“Terry,” I began as we lay in bed some time later recovering from one of our now regular bondage sessions. “Do you still feel an urge to be … you know … helpless and used as a toy by someone?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his head resting on my shoulder. Then he raised his face toward me and smiled. “Every day, my love. Every day, but I know that if I did, I’d wind up permanently …” His kiss was gentle. “I think it’s why I couldn’t throw away the gear. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know … But, somehow, I keep having this urge to put that hood on, to be plugged, and to submit …” I paused. “And you may have noticed — I’m losing my pubic hair.” 

“Yeah.” He snuggled against me. “I think it’s the gel that’s doing both. I told you, I got the dose wrong.” He kissed me again. “I’m sorry …”

“What for?” I hugged him. “Now I know what you endured, and what a huge gift you have given me with your trust and your love.” Holding him for a moment, I asked, “Where you always restrained that way?”

His chuckle was infectious. “No. This was my own variation on one of their games. I couldn’t do any of their usual — the room just doesn’t have the anchor points, and we don’t have any of the equipment.” He paused. “The police guy’s favourite was to have me strapped to what I called the milking horse. My cock went into an electronic ‘milking machine’ and my balls were strapped so I couldn’t cum. Then they’d take turns to fuck my butt or my face, making sure the plug and the gag was well loaded …” He shivered. “I was usually out of my skull for a couple of days after.” He giggled, a sign I’d learned to recognise meant he was feeling embarrassed. “I generally put myself into a rubber jock — and wait until I can get you to give me a good dose …”

“I’m sorry, my love. If you need me to … just tell me.” I held him close. I’d wondered about these periodic encounters, when he’d manage to be ‘available’ and in just the right position for me to fill his butt … 

“Don’t be. As long as I have you, I can deal with it.”

“What else did they make you do?” I asked, my curiosity overcoming my desire not to pry.

“They had a whole range of equipment they used on us,” He got a distant look. “Some of it was fun, and some okay …” He snuggled close. “My favourite outfit was to be completely rubbered in a latex suit. Just my cock head, my butt and my mouth open. Sometimes they vac racked me like that, otherwise it was in a sling to be fucked. Another of their favourites was a sensory deprivation hood. Really heavy rubber, lined and padded internally. You could see nothing, hear nothing, and you breath through a small opening at the mouth.” He shivered. “With your ankles locked to the floor and your arms to posts either side of you, the customers can do what they like. And get quite creative about it …”

“Did they always dose you with this gel stuff?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “Makes sure you won’t resist anything.” He sighed. “It also makes you addicted to the bondage and the rubber I think, because now if I smell rubber, I’m aroused — even a wetsuit! That’s why I need to put on some rubber when we …”

“Thanks for telling me all this, my love.” I kissed him again. His explanation made sense of why I now had these urges as well. “Listen, whenever you feel really in need of … you know, just tell me.” Our mouths met in a long kiss. “And I’ll do the same if I get an urge I can’t control.”

“I will, lover.” His hand found my hardening cock. “Hmm, I think I need to give this a bit of attention …” 

Before I could protest, he was busy, and I surrendered to yet another fabulous sucking. 

When he’d finished and emerged, grinning, licking cum from his lips, I pulled him into a hug and kissed him. Once we’d found a comfortable position, holding each other, I said, “You know, I think we should install some proper anchor points on the bed. Maybe some eyebolts … I could make a sort of four poster frame around and over the bed …”

For a moment he said nothing. “If you think we need it, love.” He kissed my nipple. “Actually, yes, I’d like that, especially being your toy …”

“I was thinking of me being your toy …” I kissed his forehead. “Okay, we’ll do it. Plan out for me where we need the fixing points, and I’ll get to work on it.”

The construction of the ‘frame’ actually became the start of the creation of a special bed for us. It had eyebolts where we could suspend chains to raise our legs in the ‘canopy’, and anchor points at the sides and the corner posts for arms, legs and other parts. My libido had changed. Now, like Terry, I seemed to be almost constantly randy, and my pubic hair was gone. And not just my pubic hair. I’ve never had much body hair, but now I had even less, and even my beard seemed to have stopped growing. I pointed it out to Terry.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. 

“Not really.” I rubbed my chin. This hair loss had started after my session in the heavy bondage and the overdose of the gel. In a subsequent session we’d found I only needed around two grams, and decided it was something we would only use infrequently in future. “I guess we’re both going to be hairless from now on.” I grinned. “Shaving was always a pain, and not having hair in my crotch is pretty cool.”

“I’m glad.” His hug was nice. “I like it. I wasn’t sure at first, but now … I wouldn’t want to get it back.” His hand stroked my stomach. “It’s a side effect of the gel. I know it’s got some pretty exotic ingredients. I heard the chemist who made it for Darryl talking about it. Something they extract from the glands of some critter that lives in the Asian jungles I think. That’s what gives us the ‘detached’ sensation.” 

 As a present for us both I got online and ordered a range of bondage gear from top line makers, including another pair of the weighted boots. If my partner was going to wear them, so would I. The gear arrived the day we finished the reconstruction of our bed. It was now a sort of ‘dungeon’ all on its own. One of the special items I’d ordered was a ‘sensory deprivation hood of the type Terry had described. 

I’d got Terry’s tattoos copied, photographing them quietly, and the local tattooist had done a great job of repeating them on me, to Terry’s surprise and delight. Now my left breast matched Terry’s and so did my right butt cheek. We’d agreed to have a special tattoo done to mark our marriage. This tattoo would go on our pubic mound, just above our cocks, and we went together to have it done.

Terry had done a great job designing this, and the tattooist had rendered it perfectly. It was a portrait of us both, reclining in the pose of Adam in the Michelangelo ceiling and mirrored so we looked toward one another, naked except for the thigh length bondage boots and upper body harnesses, one arm extended toward the other, fingers touching, a cuff on each wrist and a chain linking us. The figures both sported erections, and reclined on a drape of cloth. Between the figures our names were linked by rings, on me with Terry’s name above mine, and the reverse on him. 

Most of the time now, when the shop was closed, we wore only a low cut jock-style pouch, and displayed our tattoos. When one of us needed some sexual relief, which was often, our signal was to put on a pair of bondage cuffs …

I let Terry unpack the box when my latest order arrived, watching in pleasure as he lifted out the range of ‘toys’ including some unusual plugs, some latex cock pouches, a couple of hoods — my favourites — and some new bondage cuffs.

“What do you think?” I handed him a cup of coffee. “Have I got the right gear?”

“You bought a straitjacket! Wow.” Holding the heavy item, he stood up, his excitement obvious from the strain on his skimpy jockstrap. He grinned, unfolding the heavy rubber garment. “Now you’d better get it on me fast …”

“Okay, but it’s going to cost you a kiss at least.” I grinned as he held it against his chest. “Do you like it? It’s a special design they said, with some extra features. Have you worn one before?”

“Like it? No, I love it, and yes, I have worn one before.” He studied the garment. “But not like this …”

I grinned. “I’m glad. Actually I’m looking forward to trying it myself — with the special hood that should be in there as well.”

“Special hood?”

“Yeah. I found a sensory deprivation hood that’s got a few special features. It looked super intense, and I want to try it.”

Terry checked the box and found the hood. Lifting it out, he studied it. “You want to try this?” He opened it, then examined the ‘harness’ that was fixed to the outside. “Darryl’s people used to use something like this when they wanted to leave me free of restraints.” He met my gaze. “With this on, you’re more helpless than you can imagine, and this one is the ultimate head prison, Jorge. With this on your head you’ll have no sense of direction, no sense of smell, no hearing and no way to know if it’s day or night …”

“Good.” I grinned. “Then put it on me, and enjoy test driving our new dungeon bed …” I put my empty mug down and took the hood from him. “Come on, you’ve worn a straitjacket, but I’ve never worn one of these …”

He laughed. “You asked for it. Sit down, and prepare to be turned into a complete slave …” He paused. “Wait. Put your boots on.” 

He waited while I did this, drawing the zips up the inner leg, then securing the dozen straps over it. Then he passed me the new slave belt, a much heavier affair than the one he’d brought with him. 

“Cinch it up tight.”

I did and he checked and adjusted it a bit more. Then he fitted the heavy glove style hand prisons on my wrists, and secured them. 

Stepping back he grinned. “Now you’re ready for the hood.” Moving behind me he kissed my neck. “Remember, you asked for this. I plan to keep you in it until at least tomorrow.”

I grinned. “I’m all yours. Go for it, my love. Enjoy me.”

The hood engulfed my face. The padded area over my yes, meant I had to keep them shut. My ears fitted into shallow cups, but as soon as he zipped the back closed I could hear nothing. I felt him buckle and lock the collar and then the head harness fixed the pads tightly over my eyes, and one under my chin clamped my jaw firmly. Now I could breath only through a small pipe in my mouth and, in a restricted manner, though small openings at the nose. I felt his hands signalling I must stand, and did, then he pulled off my jockstrap, releasing my cock. Turning me, he made me bend at the waist and grip the back of the sofa.

Instead of fucking me, as by now I wanted, I felt him fitting something to the slave belt, and sucked a breath as he pushed a plug into me and clipped a heavy ring round my cock and balls. With this tight and secure, he pulled me upright and secured my wrists to the back of the slave belt and turned me round several times. 

Then he left me standing, helpless, desperate for him to use my cock … I daren’t move as I had no idea of which direction I was facing. I could hear nothing, and feel nothing. I had no idea where he was, and only my cock, standing rigid in front of me seemed to be able to sense anything — and that was only the cool draft of air from somewhere in the living room. I stood still, wondering what he was doing, and what he planned to do when he returned. My imagination ran riot, but nothing happened and I stood there for what felt like an hour at least. 

It’s amazing how quickly one loses all sense of time or spatial awareness in this situation. I started when he finally put his hands on my hips, and steered me carefully for what, again, felt like a long distance, but in reality could be no further than our bedroom. Turning me to face him, he positioned me, then I felt him attaching chains to the belt, to my hands, and then my ankles and thighs. Carefully he moved my feet apart and tightened the chains so I couldn’t move them together, and did the same to the slave belt. Then he detached my wrists from the belt and attached them to what I realised must be the bed canopy uprights.

I gasped in surprise and pleasure when, a few minutes later, he began to enjoy my cock. As only he knew how, he used his lips, his mouth, his tongue and his teeth, the tease and explore my cock, my scrotum and especially may throbbing glans …

In the time we’d been together, and since my accidental overdose with the libido enhancing gel, I’d been introduced to sexual pleasures and experiences I’d never imagined, and now Terry introduced me to a whole new range. Deprived of sight, sound and smell, I had no option but to submit to being placed in a variety of restraints, and my lover certainly knew a lot of variations on that, and on how to fuck me in these restraints, and use my cock for his pleasure.

We eventually slept, with him spooning into my back, and me wearing only the boots and the hood. It was a very strange experience, and even stranger to wake up to having my nipples kissed and then my cock once more being sucked to a magnificent climax. For a while I lay in his arms, locked in my own head, then I felt him undoing the harness, and finally the collar. 

Lifting the hood from my face, he immediately locked his mouth to mine in an intense kiss.

“Well, my love? Was it what you expected?”

Wrapping my arms round him, I pulled him tightly against me and kissed him. “That answer your question?” I grinned. “Fantastic doesn’t come close …”

Our ‘wedding’ was a quiet affair. Just me and Terry, supported by Milovan as my best man, and Terry supported by a couple of guys named Rob and Eugene, both Gay and frequent visitors to our shop and occasionally, the flat for dinner. The Marriage Officer went through the legal formularies in a friendly and very professional manner.

“Congratulations to you both,” he finished as we signed the papers, and exchanged rings. He smiled broadly as we kissed, and then happily joined us in a glass of champagne. For the ceremony we’d opted to wear slacks, shirts and jackets, and our witnesses dressed in similar fashion. We did have a giggle about what we wore beneath the ordinary clothes, both of us opting to wear the heavy boots and a latex thong. Then we all celebrated at a fabulous restaurant, before heading home. 

Returning ti our normal routine as a married couple was almost an anti-climax, or would have been if Terry hadn’t planned one of his ‘special’ sessions that saw us both making full use of our ‘dungeon’ equipment and getting a little carried away on the special gel. We soon settled into our usual routine for the shop though, teasingly addressing each other as ‘my husband’. The winter passed slowly, but the Spring arrived with my boat now, finally, complete and ready to go back into the water. The only problem being the realisation that we scarcely had time to enjoy it with the demands of the shop and managing my other properties — and our sexual activity!

Then a cottage I owned, further up the inlet, became vacant, and at about the same time, Eugene was told his employer was selling the business and his job would not continue.  

“We need to start thinking about the future, my love.” I’d just closed up the shop and come upstairs for our evening coffee. Terry looked up from his stocktaking as I continued. “I was thinking, maybe we should hire someone else to run the shop, and take a break.”

“Got anyone in mind?” Terry paused. “It would change the way we live here. We’d have to make a few changes, and possibly think about separating the flat from the shop completely.”

“I know, and I thought about that.” I massaged his shoulders. “I think Eugene would jump at the chance to run the shop, and he and Rob could live here.” I kissed the top of his head. “You and I could move to the cottage. It’s private, got more room and gives us more freedom.”

For a moment Terry didn’t reply, then he put a hand on mine. “You know, that could work brilliantly.” He kissed my hand. “Want to call Eugene and invite them over? He’s worried sick about how they’ll find something else …”

“Good idea.” I slipped my hands down his chest and massaged his nipples. “I’ll ring him now. Better get some clothes on though, must give the right impression to a potential employee.” Feeling his nipples hardening under my fondling fingers, I kissed his neck. “We don’t want to give them ideas, do we?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Terry responded, gripping my wrists. “I think they’d both look very good restrained, gagged, plugged and rubbered, don’t you think?”

“Damn, you’re right!” I laughed, releasing him. “But let’s see if they want to take over the shop. We can explore the rest another time.”

Rob answered the phone, and, after checking with Eugene, confirmed that they were still job hunting. They accepted my invitation to a light supper and wine happily. 

“See you both in an hour then,” I said and rang off. 

“I’ll whip up some supper, love,” Terry joined me in the living room now more conventionally dressed in jeans, teeshirt and slip-ons. He grinned. “Better check we haven’t left our toys on display in case they want to see the rest of the flat!”

That made me laugh. Anyone seeing our massive ‘bed’ would very soon realise what all the eyebolts were for, but he was right, no point in being any more blatant than we needed to be. I did a thorough tidy and then selected some nice wines from my ‘cellar’ and set the table with glasses, the wine and the cutlery Terry said his ‘supper’ — chiabata bread, cold meat, cheese, quiche and salad — would need. We had everything ready when they arrived and I let them in through the shop.

“This way, guys,” I said, locking the shop door and then leading them through to the internal stairs to the flat. “We do have a private entrance, but it’s a bit on the dark side after sundown.”

Terry greeted them at the top of the stairs, and I enjoyed their surprise at the size of the flat.

“Yeah, it’s mostly modern and been enlarged,” I told them. “My uncle had it created when he had the shop restored. The only part of this that is original is the bedroom — that’s on the street front and is the original frontage and window openings. He extended the shop into a small yard at the back, and that allowed him to change the original two room flat into this.”

“It’s fantastic,” Eugene looked round enviously. “You’d never know this was here from the street — and lovely to have the privacy.” He grinned. “We’ve always got to be a bit careful, our place is not very ‘private’ at all.”

“That’d be a problem for us,” Terry suggested mischievously. “Would you like to see the rest of the place before we sit down?”

“Tell me your wine preference before he drags you off,” I quipped. “Then we can sit down to supper.”

As you’d expect it didn’t take them long to see the bedroom, bathroom and Kitchen and I had the wine uncorked and poured as they returned, all grinning.

“Terry says you’ve had the same tattoos he has done,” Rob said. “He showed us one of them.”

“He’s being naughty then, I’ll have to punish him later,” I replied, grinning. “Depending on which he showed you.” Terry indicated his breast, and winked. “Yes, I have had his tattoos copied and we’ve had another done to celebrate our marriage. I bet he didn’t show you that one!”

As I expected they laughed, and I opened my shirt to show the tattoo on my breast. The supper vanished steadily and the wine worked to get everyone talking. I got to hear more about Eugene’s job and what they now faced as a couple. Essentially Rob was an artist, and sold his art to earn money, while Eugene relied on his salary to pay their rent, utilities and essentials. It was clear that the loss of his income was going to be devastating for them, and equally clear that he was unlikely to get anything like the position or the income he’d held.

“Then we have a proposal for you,” I began. “I know it wasn’t your line of work, and I can’t offer you the same as a salary, but I can offer a package that may be as good.”

I had their attention now, and Terry refilled their glasses.

“Terry and I want to step back from the shop,” I told them, “But I don’t want to sell the business outright. At least not yet, and I own the building, so what I want to suggest is that if you want to take over the running of the shop, I will pay you a salary, and offer you this flat as your accommodation as part of the package.” I watched Eugene’s expression. It went from surprise, to relief, and then happiness. “Are you interested.”

“Interested?” He wiped his eyes. “Jorge, what can I say? Yes!”

It took several weeks to get everything sorted out, weeks in which we had the cottage redecorated and the kitchen refitted with new counters, cupboards and appliances. We needed more furniture, partly because we agreed to leave our modified bed in the flat, and the sofa bed. Eugene started work immediately we had all the paperwork sorted out, getting to grips with the shop and its ‘trade’ and our bookkeeping. This meant that Terry and I moved aboard the Gay Cormorant, and lived aboard her while we got the cottage the way we wanted it.

At Terry’s suggestion I’d built a simpler ‘Dungeon Bed’ on just over the ‘single’ width and several other bondage items which we installed in a spare room. We’d put a lot of thought into it, and Terry’s experience meant we could create furnishings that worked for us. 

“There, it’s finished,” I said, admiring the new steel frame that now dominated the specially designed ‘bed’. The uprights had several anchor points, and the overhead frame had more. Once you were reclining on the padded section, your arms could be attached to the uprights at the head, and your legs held spread wide apart and raised. With the padded ‘bed’ ending at the hips, a partner had full and easy access to your man hole and your genitals. “Now we’ve got everything we can play with I think.”

“It’s fantastic,” Terry hugged me. “I insist on being the first to be imprisoned on it.”

“Then go and get the Rubbermade hood and kit, love. It’s the right outfit for this.” With an arm round his waist I kissed him. “We need to think about having a housewarming now.” I chuckled. “Maybe Eugene and Rob? Perhaps Milo and his partner?”

“Now there’s a good idea.” He pecked my cheek. “I’ll be right back. The hood is here, on the rack over there, so is the vitro-plug. I just need my boots and my open shorts. The belt is already on the bed. And your suit is in the wardrobe over there.”

He hurried out and I found the things we wanted to use, pulled on the ‘muscle suit’ I used for this game and my boots, finishing just in time to welcome Terry’s return. I smiled as he walked into the room, remembering that first time he’d set himself up for my birthday. 

“You know, my love, you look fabulous every time I see you like this.” I kissed him as he raised his arms to allow me to fit the slave belt round his waist. “I still can’t believe how lucky I got that first time you arrived in the shop.”

“We both got the jackpot, my love. If anything, I really hit the double jackpot, because I got you!” He took his position and I began to secure him. 

First attaching the chains to the belt, then, with his legs raised the suspension chains to his thigh cuffs and ankles. With his wrists chained to their anchor points, I checked everything was secure and his movement strictly limited. 

“Hood and gag, or shall I put the plug in first?” I held up the two items. “I’ve given both five grams of the gel.”

“Plug first, my darling.” He grinned. “Then I’ll still have enough awareness to enjoy the kiss you’re going to give me before you hood me.”

Moving into position, I pressed the tip to his sphincter. “Ready?”

“Always, my love.” His chuckle was musical. “Plug me up, Master, and switch me on!”

“You asked for it.” I pushed it firmly into him, enjoying the way his eyes widened, and his mouth formed an O. I activated the vibrator unit, and watched as he bit his lip and his cock jerked rigid. “I better fit the ball separator or you waste that delicious cum before I can stop you.”

“Better be … quick, love …”

The strap is quite simple, the tricky bit is the capture the wearers testicles in the two side loops and tighten those to ensure he can’t cum. I got it on him neatly, but he winced as I fastened the strap on his left testicle. “Sorry, love …”

“No problem,” he gasped and gave a grin. “I think the gel’s starting. Hood me up …”

The hood took a minute to fit and fasten, and now I had my absolutely favourite sex object-toy ready to enjoy. I stood back, admiring my lover as he lay helpless, offering himself yet again for my pleasure. Very quietly and gently, I began to show him my love, planting kisses on his nipples and especially his tattoos. I kissed his gently vibrating erection, kissed his separated testicles, then worked myself into position to remove the dildo gag and feed him my own erection.

His response was fabulous, and I had to work hard not to discharge my cum too soon. I took me time, trying to make sure Terry enjoyed it as much as I was. When he brought me off in his mouth, I replaced the gag dildo, and spent a while repeating my caressing and fondling his body, then impaled myself on his rigid cock, fucking myself on his until I’d hardened up again. Once I was reloaded, I went for another dose of oral, then repeated my use of his cock, though this time with my mouth, and then, after withdrawing the plug, fucked him. 

It was late by the time I removed the testicle bindings and fucked myself on his cock until he shot his load into my butt. After a long interval I stopped the vibrator, released him from the restraints, then lifted him in my arms, and carried him to our bedroom. There I removed the hood and the plug, cuddled him and applied my mouth to his in a long, loving kiss. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, still in our rubber and our boots.

“Eugene and Rob have accepted our invitation,” Terry said as he returned from a visit to the shop. “They’re definitely up for it. As soon as I mentioned we were thinking of a latex and bondage scene to celebrate, they started planning outfits.”

“What have you got in mind for us, love?” I had a fairly good idea already, and had an idea it would be something that showed off our tattoos and made a statement about our relationship and liking for bondage.

He slipped his arms round my waist and rubbed his crotch against mine, grinning. “Our boots, of course, and our chest harnesses, wrist and ankle cuffs, and slave belts, of course, and I’ve got us some special tangas that’ll just hold our fun bits — oh, and plugs, of course.”

I laughed, responding to his excitement. “I had a feeling it would be something like that.” Kissing him, I said, “Okay, I’m up for it. Now we’d better think about food, drinks and what we will and won’t do in the playroom.”

“They’ll bring some of their own toys.” Terry’s hand cupped my crotch. “It’s better to not share plugs and gags I think.” 

“True,” I gripped his butt and pulled him against me. “I get the feeling I need to submit to someone’s urgent need for the moment though.” Kissing him, I asked, “What do you need, my love?”

Taking my hand he led me to our bedroom, “Make love to me, the way you did the very first time … please?”

Unbuttoning his shirt I kissed him, “Now there’s a pleasure I am very happy to provide …”

The doorbell rang just a few minutes before six and I checked that I was ‘dressed’ exactly as Terry had wanted, then feeling a little self-conscious, I answered it. “Come in, guys.” I grinned at their expressions. “Like what you see?”

“Wow,” Rob spoke first. “Is that the famous marriage tat you guys have?”

“If you’re looking at the bit above my tanga, yes. That’s our marriage tattoo.” I laughed, waiting for them to slip out of their ‘street’ clothes. “Like it? You might get a closer look later.”

“Love it,” Rob glanced at Eugene. “I’d like to get something for us.”

Eugene agreed, folding his clothes, and turned to reveal his latex outfit of chaps style shorts, a rubber jock and a muscle shirt. Rob wore an elaborate body harness, with a detachable pouch covering his genitals.

“This way to the dungeon,” I quipped. “Terry is waiting to greet …” 

We’d agreed to offer our visitors the opportunity to use our playroom, and to demonstrate the position and equipment Terry had been subjected to in the Rubbermale country house. After an argument, we’d flipped a coin, and I ‘lost’, so I would be the ‘gimp’ for the three of them. So now I answered the door in my heavy restraint boots, a small tanga just holding my penis and scrotum, a slave belt and a chest harness that showed off my nipples and the ‘Club’ tattoo. It would be the first time I’d submitted to anyone other than Terry, and I was both looking forward to it, and nervous.

“These tattoos are amazing,” Rob said. “I’d heard of the Rubbermale Club. But the ‘membership’ charge was a bit too steep for a mere student.” He grinned. “The doorman did suggest I apply for a job there. I was tempted …”

Eugene looked up from admiring my crotch tattoo. “I love this.” He kissed Rob. “Can we have something like it? To mark our relationship?” He grinned suddenly, and I want to get one on my butt as well — one that says clearly I belong to you!”

We all laughed, and Rob said, “Then we’d both better get them, minx.” Turning to me, he said, “What do you want us to do for this scene?”

“Terry’s in charge!” I grinned. “I’m the gimp, your entertainment for the party.” I kissed Terry. “And looking forward to my first experience of being at the mercy of three randy men …”

“Right,” Terry ordered, “Rob, Gene, secure his wrists to the belt!”

We’d agreed the role-play, so I put up a token resistance, pleading for mercy as they gripped my arms and fixed my wrists to the slave belt. Terry stripped my tanga, gripped the big vibro-plug and ordered, “Spread those cheeks, so I can plug him!”

Grinning, Rob and Gene made me bend forward and Terry pressed the plug to my opening, while I put on a show of pleading for mercy. 

It was only partly a show, to be honest. I’d loaded the plug with our special gel myself, doubling my normal dose. I wasn’t all that sure I knew what to expect. Terry pushed the hing fully into me, and I flexed my butt, letting it settle into place. My cock was already responding to the thing, hardening even as I straightened.

“Now hood him,” ordered Terry. Rob fitted the hood to my head, and checked the tube gag was properly positioned, then pulled the zip down, and fastened the collar. I heard the lock click.

Terry was in front of me, holding the dildo. He smiled, then gripped my head, and locked his mouth to the open end of the tube. His tongue found mine, and then he hugged me, and whispered, “I love you. You’re a real star, my love, and don’t worry.” He raised the dildo, and inserted it into my mouth, twisting it into the locked in position. Stepping back, he ordered, “Take it to the dungeon and restrain it for our use.”

With three of them at work, my legs were soon suspended from the overhead chains, my wrists attached to the head posts and my waist secured to the bed. Terry then fitted the ball separator, grinned down at me and asked, the remote control for the vitro-plug in his hand, “Doesn’t he look deliciously helpless?”

I heard Eugene say, “Fuck it looks intense. What happens now?”

“This,” Terry activated the butt plug. “Rob, you’ve drawn the first facefuck. Twist the dildo a quarter turn anti-clock, take it out, and enjoy it. As soon as you shoot your load, pull out, and refix the dildo gag.” As Rob positioned himself, I heard him say to Eugene, “Enjoy his cock, Gene.” He chuckled. “With his balls strapped like that, he can’t cum and it drives us wild to have someone really work it over.”

The vibrator in my butt was doing it’s thing, and I could feel the gel taking effect. Rob shot a good load of cum into my mouth, and replaced the dildo. Almost immediately I felt the sense of detachment the gel produced as it mixed with the residue of sperm in my mouth. Then the vibrator stopped and was replaced by a cock I vaguely recognised as Terry’s, but now the grip of the gel was tightening and my ‘brain’ detached as my body surrendered to the sexual pleasures my three companions were enjoying. 

I was way ‘out of reality’ when finally I felt my balls being realised and Terry sucked me to a monumental climax.

Reality returned slowly as they released me, then put me into a straitjacket and locked my now softening cock and empty balls into a Carrera chastity belt. Terry then steered me to the living room. Tightly wrapped in our heavy rubber strait jacket, I grinned, licking my lips, savouring the taste of their cum and the plug in my cum filled butt. 

“Did I satisfy everyone? Or do I have to do it again?”

They all laughed, then Eugene said, “We’ve booked another round — but I’m going to be the gimp.”

“I’ll toss you for it,” I said, my eyes on Terry. I blew him a kiss and he moved closer to stand at my side, his gorgeous cock dangling at just the right height. “Have I told you I love you tonight?” I managed to kiss the tip of his cock. “I should have. And now, love I need a drink …”

Our cottage became a regular meeting place after our House warming. It transpired that we all not only shared our love for bondage and rubber, but enjoyed good food, music and wines. A big plus was having my boat back in the water, because Eugene and Rob were both scuba divers, and through them we gradually enlarged the group to include several other guy and a couple of girls who were all wind surfers or divers. Not a diver myself, it fell to me to skipper the boat, but I also enjoyed wind surfing. 

Do I need to explain that the divers and surfers brought new custom to the shop? Or that we found it necessary to give Eugene and Rob the occasional hand in the shop? We did, and the shop became a lot more profitable as a result.

Strolling back to the cottage after supper with Rob and Gene, I took Terry’s hand in mine. “You know, I was just thinking — remembering really, a tired kid who wandered into my shop looking for a sandwich …” I squeezed his hand. “I wonder if he expected to find what he did?”

“Funny, that …” He stopped and turned to face me in the twilight. “I was wondering if the guy that gave the kid three sandwiches, a warm place to sleep and a lot more than he knew, has found what he needed.”

Taking him in my arms, I kissed him and he responded. When we broke the kiss, I replied, “I think he got far more than he expected — or deserved.” Kissing him again, I asked, “How about you?”

His kiss was firm. “I won the jackpot. I got you!” He hugged me, adding with a sigh, “And all you got was an ex-whore who was contemplating finding somewhere to just … go to sleep and not wake up.” Our mouths met again. “Instead, I found an angel, the love of my life, my saviour and the man of my dreams.”

“Steady on, I’m just me.” I laughed. “More demon than angel I think.” Returning the hug, I added, “And I’ve got everything I need right here in my arms.” With another hug, I grinned. “Are we going to stand here until dawn? Or would you like to take me home and see what fancy takes us for the rest of the evening?”

“Then we’d better get home,” he giggled. “And you can take me to bed … perhaps show me the demon ...”