Straight Stud Gay Keyholder Chapter 9

Author: bdboyuk
Title: Straight Stud, Gay Keyholder, Chapter 9
Date: 03 August 2011

Deano is back, by popular demand:

Straight Stud, Gay Keyholder, Chapter 9 (For Stephen)

I don’t know how long I slept. The pain from the flogging I had received had lessened, but I still knew I would be bruised and sore for days. I tried to move and remembered my wrists and ankles were secured to the sides of the cage. My shoulders and hips ached and my mouth was dry. I knew I would do anything for the man who now controlled me to be let out of this uncomfortable position and given a sip of water. I considered how much I had certainly changed from my previous existence as a cocky, self-confident, masculine straight bloke to a chaste, owned slave of a gay man who once I had called “friend” but now called “Master”.

As I lay, uncomfortable, thirsty, sore, I strained to hear my Master in the house below. If I knew where he was, what he might be doing, I could perhaps work out what time of day it was. Hell, I didn’t even know what day it was, let alone the time! This solitary confinement was the worst sort of torture for a guy who craves attention like I do. I lay still and, finally, heard movement in the big house. He must be two floors below me, in the living room or kitchen. I followed his footsteps through the hall, to the bottom of the stairs, then ascending towards me. With each step my heartbeat increased, my breath caught in my throat. My thoughts narrowed to a single mantra: I would see him and he would release me!

The door opened slowly, the light gradually brightening the attic where I had spent – how long? It didn’t matter, it was over now. I was facing away from the door, so could only see his shadow on the wall in front of me, but I could see he was holding something in his hand and flinched automatically. When I didn’t feel a blow across my back or arse, I relaxed slightly. I watched his shadow move around the wall and turned my head to face the man who now controlled every aspect of my existence. It took a moment to realise that what he held was, in fact, a small digital video recorder. The light on the camera was inching over every aspect of my restrained, muscular body as my Master captured me at my most vulnerable. I looked past the camera towards his face and pleaded with my eyes for him to release me. A hand reached out of the darkness behind the bright light of the camera and stroked the skin of my scarred back. “Soon, my slave. Soon.”

He continued working his way around my body, moving slowly past my head and continuing down my left flank. He moved deliberately, clearly taking extreme care to document my body as closely as possible. Finally he was finished and I heard him place the camera gently on a shelf behind me. As he walked, he trailed a finger along my leg, up my thigh, across my backside, insistently up my spine, around my neck and through my hair. By the time he reached my head I was burning with passion for him. He traced the finger across my face, around my eyes, the bridge of my nose, gently massaging that bump which had been caused when I broke it during a rugby tackle. His finger came to rest on my lips, and even though dry, I stretched my tongue out to gently lick him. He smiled and stroked my face. “Good slave.”

He began unlocking my restraints from the rings on the cage and I painfully rolled my shoulders to relieve the aching. I stretched my legs and carefully raised myself to my feet. I felt the burning ache in my stretched joints reduce and happily smiled at my Master. He placed a bowl of water on the floor at his feet and I went down on all fours to gratefully lap it up, all the while enjoying the sensation of Master stroking my hair. I drained the bowl of water and sat back on my haunches looking up at the man who now controlled my life. He clipped a lead to my collar and I followed him out of the door, crawling like a dog at his heels. He made his way to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and unclipped my lead. He removed the wrist and ankle restraints and unlocked my collar. I knelt just wearing my shiny chastity device while he tested the temperature of the water and motioned me to step inside the cubicle.

“Wash yourself well, slave. We are expecting company and I want you to look and smell your best! When you are done, come and find me downstairs.” He smiled and left me in the bathroom to luxuriate in the warm water. I spent ages just enjoying the sensation of warm water easing the twisted muscles in my shoulders and back. I lathered myself thoroughly and washed my hair. After 20 minutes or so, I stepped out of the cubicle and dried myself with a big, fluffy white towel. I followed the smell of bacon cooking into the kitchen, my stomach growling. Master turned and smiled, then pointed to a spot on the floor next to the table where I knelt, awaiting his commands.

Master finished cooking and put the bacon and several slices of toast onto a plate, which he carried to the table and sat in the chair next to me. He began eating, occasionally stopping to feed me a slice of toast which I ate from his hand. It was a perfect scene of domestic bliss which I had never thought possible in my previous life. When he was finished he put his plate and cutlery in the dishwasher before turning to me.

“Slave, I have had to make a difficult decision, but I think it is time to tell you my plans,” Master said, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I never thought you would get to this stage of submission, and what started as a test of my will overcoming yours has resulted in a successful project to turn a masculine heterosexual man into a puppet to be controlled by a gay Master. Unfortunately, the global financial situation has had an impact on me too, and I am forced to return to full-time work and will not be able to spend the time with you that is needed to continue your training. I have therefore decided to make the most of you as my asset and sell you to the highest bidder.”

He paused, allowing this news to filter through my confused and frightened mind. I struggled to comprehend what he was saying, and fought with my compulsion to scream or cry at what he was telling me. Automatically my hand went to my neck, to take comfort in the feeling of his collar, but of course, it had been removed prior to my shower. I felt more exposed and helpless than at any time in my life.

“The video I took of you this morning will join the others I have made during your training, a constant reminder of my work and of you, my wonderful slave. But now it is time for you to move on to your new Master. You will serve him as you have served me, and do me proud, I know. You will be collected for delivery to him shortly, and we have a few things to arrange before then. Come with me.” Master moved towards the rear door of the house which lead to the connecting garage, but I was frozen to the spot, unable or unwilling to follow. He turned and looked at me, an expression of surprise and sadness crossed his face. He smiled, and nodded before clicking his fingers. I came to heel, and we went through to the garage together.

“Get up on the table, slave,” he said, indicating a long, flat workbench in the centre of the room, “put your arms above your head and spread your legs wide.”

I did as he commanded and watched him move to a large wooden chest near the door. Turning to me, I saw in his hands several semi-circular pieces of shiny metal. He placed these at the foot of the table and wheeled over a piece of engineer’s equipment which I recognized as a welder’s torch. Panicked, I glanced up at his eyes, but he simply gave that sad smile and stroked my head, calming me. He placed one of the bands under my right wrist and applied another on top, forming a circular cuff around my wrist. He placed something which looked and felt like a thick piece of furry cardboard between the metal and my wrist and lit the torch. I turned my face away as he applied the torch to the cuff and used solder to secure it. He did the same to the other side until the cuff was completely secure. This process was completed on my other wrist and both ankles until I was wearing four steel cuffs which would never be removed.

Master then lifted my head to place a larger steel band behind my neck. He covered the front of my neck with a further band of steel and began welding these two closed. “These are for your new Master, boy. He was quite clear on his requirements for your appearance. I have included your chastity device in the price of the sale, so I will be giving him the key to that also.”

As the metal cooled, he stood me up and turned me towards a full-length mirror against one wall. I gasped as I saw myself, standing next to my now ex-Master, as a muscled, naked, chaste, cuffed slave. The cuffs permanently attached, the collar, shiny and thick would never be removed. I belonged to someone else, I was property to be sold or exchanged. I felt my eyes fill with tears as I contemplated my future with a new, unknown Master.

“Come on, slave. You’re ready.” He lead me back through the house to the front room, where a large packing crate stood with the lid leaning to one side. The crate had an amount of straw inside and looked quite small compared to my muscular frame. “In you get, boy.”

I climbed slowly inside the crate, folding my legs up to a reasonably comfortable seating position and lowering my head, not daring to look at my Master for fear I would break down. Master reached in and padlocked my wrist cuffs to my collar using the attached D-rings and stepped back from the crate. He took his camera and shot several quick snaps, before reaching for a hammer and a dozen long nails which were on a table nearby.

“Be good, boy,” Master said, as he lifted the lid onto the crate, shutting out the light and stealing my last view of him. I shuddered at the sound of him nailing the lid in place, and as the last nail was hammered home, I heard the doorbell ring. The sound of Master opening the door was followed by the heavy footsteps of at least two other people entering the room.

“Here’s the cash,” a deep-voiced male said. I could imagine Master receiving a bundle of notes in exchange for his property, “we’ll take it from here.”

I heard a couple of grunts as the crate was slowly lifted from the ground, then the sense of movement as my crate was taken from the house and slid into what I assumed was the back of a van. I heard what I guessed were ropes being tied tightly around the crate, then the loud bang of doors closing. As the engine started and the van moved off, I said a silent farewell to my Master and allowed the tears to come.

Comments welcome. bdboyuk@aol.com