The Ride Home
The mist hung cold and silver under the streetlight.
Mark’s gloved hand clamped the back of Ethan’s neck, slamming him against the warm flank of the truck.
“Last chance, boy. Once you’re naked in my truck, there is no ‘back.’ I will break you until the only thing left is what I decide to keep. You’ll cry, beg, hate me some days, love me every day. Still want it?”
Ethan’s voice cracked open, tears already starting.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, Master. Please don’t let me chicken out.”
Mark’s eyes flashed (recognition, hunger, and something dangerously soft).He ripped the soaked T-shirt upward (fabric tearing).
Cold air hit skin.
“Everything off. Now.”
Ethan stripped (shirt, jeans, briefs dropped in the wet gravel).
He stood shivering, cock jutting, arms useless at his sides while the smokers watched with lazy approval.
Mark produced the titanium collar (four pounds of brushed steel, recessed screw, brutal D-ring).
He held it an inch from Ethan’s eyes.
“This weighs more than your old life.
Once it’s on, I own your breath.”
Ethan’s tears spilled.
“Yes, Master.”
Mark locked it tight (every swallow now deliberate).
The Allen key clicked home.
“Mine.”
Ethan’s knees buckled.
Mark caught him by the collar, held him upright.
Next came the chastity cage (short, curved, zero-escape steel with thick urethral plug).
Mark’s gloved hand wrapped Ethan’s cock once (clinical, possessive) then forced the ring behind his balls, slid the tube down, seated the plug with a twist that tore a sob from Ethan’s throat.
The lock snapped shut.
Mark tugged the cage hard enough to lift Ethan onto his toes.
“No more orgasms without my permission. Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Master,”
Ethan choked, tears streaming.
Mark thumbed a tear away and pushed it into Ethan’s mouth.
“Taste your surrender. From now on every tear is gratitude.”
He opened the passenger door.
“Kneel on the seat, forehead to the dash, ass up.”
Ethan climbed in (collar dragging his head forward, cage swinging painfully).
Mark slipped noise-canceling headphones over Ethan’s ears.
His own recorded voice began (low, relentless, inescapable):
“Good pup… deeper with every mile… Every word I speak becomes permanent truth.
‘Drop’ → instant deep trance, eyes roll, body limp, mind blank.
‘Heel’ → you crawl to my boots on all fours, no matter where you are.
‘Present’ → knees spread wide, back arched, hole offered high, ready for anything.
‘Open’ → mouth falls slack, tongue out, drooling, ready for cock, piss, cum, waste.
‘Leak’ → caged cock drips constantly, no relief.
‘Empty’ → all thoughts vanish, only obedience remains.
‘Good boy’ → wave of pure euphoric happiness, stronger than any orgasm.
‘Hold’ → bladder and bowels lock until I say ‘release.’
‘Thank you, Master’ → automatic response after every use, every correction, every breath I allow.
‘Kneel taller’ → posture perfect, chest out, shaved head high, pride in surrender.
‘Wag’ → your ass sways like a happy pup even when no tail is plugged.
‘Mine’ → full-body shiver of ownership and joy.
Obedience is pleasure.
Obedience is safety.
Obedience is love.
Obedience is your only purpose…”
Mark’s gloved hand slid between Ethan’s spread cheeks.
One thick finger circled the virgin rim, then pushed in dry to the first knuckle.
Ethan whimpered into the dash, hips jerking.Mark added a second finger, scissoring slowly.
“Relax, pup. This hole is mine now.”
By the time they hit the highway, Mark had four fingers buried deep, thumb pressing against the ring, knuckles stretching Ethan open while the hypnotic voice repeated and reinforced.
Ethan sobbed (overwhelmed, leaking, floating).
Twenty-five minutes in, Mark tucked his thumb and pushed.
The widest part of his hand breached Ethan’s ring with a wet pop.
Ethan screamed into the dash (pain, shock, bliss), body convulsing.
Mark paused wrist-deep, let him adjust, then slowly twisted, crooking fingers to milk the prostate in steady pulses.
The headphones kept looping:
“Good boy… deeper… every inch of my hand inside you is home…you’ll crave this stretch every waking moment…
fisting is love… fisting is safety…”
Ethan’s tears soaked the dashboard, cage dripping a steady stream onto the seat.
When they turned down the gravel drive, Mark eased his fist out slowly (Ethan’s hole gaped, winking, already ruined).
Headphones off.
Ethan blinked, dazed, hole clenching on nothing, mind deliciously quiet.
Mark clipped the thick chain leash to the titanium D-ring.
“Out. Crawl.”
Ethan scrambled down naked into the cold night (collar dragging his head forward, cage aching, hole gaping and wet).Inside the house, Mark led him straight to the living-room rubber mat.
“Kneel taller. Open.”
Ethan’s posture snapped perfect, mouth falling slack, drool already pooling.
Mark unzipped, pulled out his thick cock, and pissed a long, hot stream straight down Ethan’s throat.
Ethan gulped frantically (some spilling, most swallowed, eyes locked on Mark’s boots in worship).
When the stream ended, Mark wiped his cock on Ethan’s tongue.
“Hold.”
He gripped Ethan’s shaved head with both hands and fucked his throat (slow, deep, relentless) until Ethan gagged, tears streamed, and his caged cock dripped helplessly.
Mark came with a low growl, flooding Ethan’s mouth.
“Swallow every drop.”
Ethan did (throat working, eyes rolling, body trembling).
Mark pulled out, tucked himself away, and cupped Ethan’s tear-streaked, piss-wet face.
“Good boy.”
The trigger detonated (pure euphoric bliss exploded behind Ethan’s eyes, caged cock throbbing uselessly, a full-body shudder of happiness).
Mark ruffled the shaved scalp.
“Welcome home, pup. Training starts now.”
Ethan collapsed forward, forehead to Mark’s boot, chain leash pooling on the rubber.
“Thank you, Master,” he whispered, voice wrecked.
“Thank you for owning me.”
Mark’s voice dropped to a whisper only Ethan could hear.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for a boy brave enough to let me do this.”
The boy was gone.
The pup (collared, caged, throat raw, mind rewired, heart wide open) had arrived.
And the Chain took its first true link.
To be continued…
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