Rich woke up from a very vivid, erotic dream. As he woke, he climaxed -- a much bigger climax than any of the other ones he had after one of these dreams. Maybe it was because he saw the face of the guy who had tied him up this time. He didn't know.
His dreams almost always involved Rich being tied up: fantasies taken from TV shows, or movies, or just drawings that he had seen on-line. You name the scenario: captured detective, kidnapped executive, potential warrior sacrifice , he had dreamed them all, with himself as the one who had been tied up. Every single one of the dreams had given him an orgasm as he woke out of it. The one the night before had been extremely intense, and the one tonight, well...
The first of the dreams involved Rich as the loser in a wrestling match. His opponent had gotten him into a choke/sleeper hold, and when Rich woke up, he was in the classic position he had seen in bondage wrestling movies: bound up in the ropes of the ring, his arms pinned between two ropes, his legs spread and immobilized between two others. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he had yelled, and then "GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE," before he heard a door close behind him, and regular footsteps advancing. "LET ME GO YOU BASTARD," he had yelled, even as he realized that he had a hard-on poking through his wrestling tights. He heard the guy chuckle before he felt his arm around his neck.
"You don't want me to let you go, do you Rich? You seem to be kind of enjoying this." He paused before he whispered, "Not as much as I am though." He struggled, fighting to get out of the ropes, but it did nothing but make him harder. "And you're such a hot little fucker. Or should I say, fuckee?" the guy whispered. Rich worked out every day and had earned one of his nicknames: "muscle cub." He was only 5'6"/5'7", but had huge biceps, a strong barrel chest, and massive legs. His opponent in the match -- who had wrestled in a mask- was at least six inches taller. He wasn't nearly as muscular, but he was faster, and a much better technical wrestler. He had gotten Rich tired and then used the sleeper.
His captor moved his arm, and his hand began stroking Rich's right pec. Rich gave out a big sigh and then whimpered. "Why are you doing this to me?" He pleaded. "I thought it was just a friendly wrestling match." The captor chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous, Rich? If someone got the chance to tie you up, why wouldn't they?" The hand dropped down to Rich's pubes. The fingers closed around his cock and balls. Another groan, as Rich's captor growled "I told you. You're getting into this. Big time." Rich didn't answer because he knew the masked man was right.
"Know what I didn't get from you, Rich? I didn't get a submission. That's ultimately what I want. Your submission." Struggling, Rich shot back "And you're not getting it. Now let me go, fucker." He heard his captor laugh. He couldn't see behind him, so he didn't know that the guy had pulled out a riding crop. Rich saw it as the captor drew it across his crotch.
"How many of these do you think you can take before you give up, Rich?" the captor asked, before he struck Rich's crotch lightly. "One? Five?" Ten?" The captor never varied the strength of the strikes, and after each one, he ran it gently across Rich's cock. "Pre-cum, huh? " He kept stroking Rich's cock and whispered into his ear: "You ARE going to submit, and I'm going to FUCK you.... Slave boy."
It was at that point that Rich had woken up the morning before. He had moved his right hand down to his cock while he was sleeping and now, he was pumping his dick hard and fast, as jizz streamed out of it. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH SHIT!", he screamed to no one (Rich lived alone). After the lashings stopped, Rich caught his breath. "GOD, that was amazing. I wish..." He didn't finish his thought, but the dream went through his mind the whole day. Who was the other wrestler? He hadn't seen the guy's face, of course, and while he could describe his body type, and his voice, he had no idea who the man was.
That first dream didn't prepare him for the second one. The next night, after he fell asleep, Rich had an involved dream: he had gotten home from work, and had just tossed his jacket and his briefcase, when he felt that arm around his neck again. "HEY. HOW THE HELL....MMMMMMMMMMMPH. " In the dream, he felt a cloth pressed against his nose and mouth, and then blacked out. When he woke up, he was stretched out on his bed, naked from the waist down. His ankles had been secured to the bottom corners of his bed. He tugged and learned his wrists were bound in a similar fashion. "Ah, GOOD, Rich. You woke up at just the right time." He saw the wrestler from the dream before standing over him, grinning. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just like in the wrestling ring. But he also wasn't wearing a mask. Rich saw a man with a very full head of hair, a beard, and a moustache, and round black eyes. He looked vaguely familiar.
Rich pulled at the bonds while his captor began opening his shirt. "I had an eye on you for a while, little guy, and what convinced me to take you was this nice little field of hair." He rubbed his hand over Rich's chest, which could best be described as moderately hairy. With his gay friends, Rich would tease about how he wished he could move some of his fur to his receding hairline.
As the captor's hand stroked his chest, Rich's cock jumped. It was already rigidly hard. "It was really easy to pick your lock, Rich. And I got your address from going through your stuff when you were knocked out yesterday. " He paused, and Rich saw him smile. "I think we'll shave all of this once you submit for real. Your pubes and pits, too. I find that it's easier for subs to understand their role if they see themselves smooth every day."
"FUCK YOU!" Rich yelled. "I don't submit." Technically, Rich was correct. He had never submitted to a man; however, he wanted to. He just had not found a man who had tried to break him. His muscular body dissuaded most guys from trying, and Rich had gotten tired of faking that he had been overpowered by the guys who did try.
His captor smiled. "You haven't surrendered yet, Rich. But I have all night. And I know more about you than you wish I did." His fingers pinched Rich's right nipple and Rich moaned. "NOOOOOOOOO. Don't do that. PLEASE." He caught his breath as his captor moved a finger from his other hand to the backside of Rich's cock and ran it back and forth. "OH SHIT. OH FUCKING SHIT" Rich began to buck on the bed.
"See, stud? And I'm just beginning. " His fingers formed an inverted "U" on the head of Rich's dick and moved back and forth slowly. Rich continued to squirm. "Just fuck me. Please. I feel like a bitch in heat."
"Oh, I WILL fuck you, Rich. And I'll do so much more to you, but not yet. You're almost ready, but not quite. See..." He moved his hand away and showed Rich a small metal device. Rich knew what it was: a chastity cage. "I'm going to edge you. Little by little until you're shrunk to a more manageable size. And you'll surrender before I let you cum. Then, when that's happened, this goes on you, and the ankle bonds come off, your legs go in the air, and you get...this." He stopped for a minute and opened his jeans. His dick was cut, and about 8 inches long. "I know how to use it, too." Rich felt his mouth watering. It had been a while since he had had a cock inside of him. He wanted it. He wanted to beg the guy to fuck him, but one of his hands was back on Rich's tit, and the other one went back to stroking the back of Rich's cock.
"I need to cum," Rich whispered, hoarsely. "PLEASE. I need to cum. I need to cum so badly." When he said that, the man took his hands off of Rich's body and stood there. "Maybe you need a little break, Rich, because I'm not ready to let you shoot. " He went back to stroking Rich's chest. "Anyone ever shave you, Rich?"
"NO!" Rich shouted back. "AND YOU'RE NOT EITHER." The guy put his hands back on Rich's tit and his cock. He dropped his mouth to Rich's ear and whispered, "we'll see, cubby," before he began to lick Rich's ear. "Like that, muscle boy?" Rich did, but he didn't answer. He just moaned. "I need to cum. Please. Please let me cum."
"I haven't introduced myself properly, Rich. And I won't yet," was the captor's answer. "For now, you can call me, Sir." He stopped talking and got back to work on Rich's body. Rich whimpered "Please let me cum, Sir."
That's when he woke up out of THAT dream, and he WAS cumming. Without touching himself. The orgasm was bigger than the one the night before, and Rich wasn't touching himself. "Holy SHIT" he thought. He thought back to his last two dreams. "Who IS that guy?" He asked himself. "I've SEEN him. But where?"
Rich couldn't get those last two dreams out of his head.
He thought about calling in sick to work, but he didn't because he assumed he'd spend the whole day just replaying the two dreams, and masturbating. What he needed to do was to figure out who was in the two dreams. In truth, "Sir" was far from his fantasy man: he thought that if someone ever dominated him, he'd be much closer in size to himself, have very short hair, a body more muscular than his own, and be blond or red-headed. "Sir" was none of these, yet he had showed up in two of Rich's dreams. Rich had taken enough psychology classes when he had been a student to realize his subconscious (he realized how awful a pun that was) , was trying to tell him something. He thought about the places where he might have seen "Sir." No one stood out in his mind. At work that day, he eyeballed every man he saw, even though he realized at least some of the men would think he was cruising them. He saw no one that even came close to the guy in his dreams. Nor did he see anyone like him on the subway or on the street.
Maybe not surprisingly, he saw "Sir" at the gym. Rich spent a good two hours at the gym every day, sometimes more. He did very little cardio, spending most of his time on exercises to build up muscle mass. When he was in the locker room getting changed for workout, someone walked by carrying a towel and wearing swimming trunks and flip flops. He was hairy: VERY hairy, and very tall. Rich couldn't get a good luck at the man's eyes as he walked out of the locker room and toward the pool. Rich followed him, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He thought that the man hadn't noticed him, until he saw the guy give him a side eye, and a smile. Rich blushed and hurried back to the locker room. "SHIT. He saw me following him," he thought, and then tried to push the thought out of his head as he went through his workout. He added extra sets to try to exhaust himself so that he wouldn't think about the guy. "That's him, though," he thought, feeling a hard-on forming when he was changing, which was just about the time the guy walked through the locker room. Rich THOUGHT the guy winked at him, but he wasn't sure.
That night, Rich had another dream, involving the guy, who he had named "Tom". This time, he was chair tied and shirtless. He had a big piece of duct tape over his mouth so he couldn't scream. His crotch bulged through the tight shorts he had on, but it was from the cock cage Tom had put on him in the dream the night before, after he submitted. The door to his apartment opened and slammed shut. "MMMMPH" . He tried to say something, but that's all that came out. Tom had gone out to a local drug store to get some shaving cream. He looked at Rich, smiling. "Now, Richard, I told you you have to keep those titties pointed out, didn't I?" Rich whimpered as he shook his head yes. "Now, you're going to do that because if you don't, I'm gonna have to get those nasty clamps -- the ones I used last night when you didn't obey me -- and pull them out. Understand?" Rich was beginning to have second thoughts about having given up. He wasn't sure, but he THOUGHT he could overpower Tom. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to. Instead, he shook his head yes and pointed out his chest.
"That's a good sub boy, Rich. It'll make shaving that chest of yours so much easier. " There was an electric barber's shaver on the table next to where Rich was bound. Tom gripped the back of Rich's neck and pulled it back gently. "Now THAT's REAL pretty Richie. And trust me, you'll be even prettier once we get this done. Don't you think?" Rich moaned and shook his head no. Tom laughed. "Oh well. We'll never know until we do it, right?" Rich trembled when he felt the shaver touch his chest. He heard the buzz. "Straight lines. Up and down. Nice and slow. Takes care of the easy one." Richard kept on whimpering as Tom operated the clipper. He could see his chest hair falling on his shorts, and the floor. He felt Tom's firm hand on the back of his neck. He was silent as he shaved Rich.
"AH. Now that looks JUST GORGEOUS!" Tom exclaimed. "Let's go take a look. First part done." He took Rich out of the seat, keeping his hands tied behind him, and walked him to a mirror. "Keep those nips out, stud." Rich looked at himself in the mirror. It was the first time he had ever seen himself bound and gagged, and that got him more excited than his clean chest. He felt Tom's mouth around his ear, as he whispered "A shaved boy is a sub boy, Rich. You look so fucking hot this way. Now let's move to part II."
This was the part that Rich feared. He felt Tom's finger in the waistband of his shorts and felt them drop. "Very wet down there, boy. You must be getting excited. Once I get this off you, let's see how excited you REALLY are." Tom unlocked the cage and Rich's dick jumped out in front of him. "Pretty excited, huh pretty boy?" Tom said as he tweaked Rich's left nipple. "Now, let's turn that cock into a part of a man pussy." He picked up the shaving cream, and Rich began to struggle. The wrist bonds were tight, and he knew it was a mistake, especially after Tom delivered a good slap to his balls.
"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH!!!!" Rich tried to scream. Then Tom slapped his balls again. "Let's not forget what happened last night sub boy, HUH?" He grabbed Rich's balls and squeezed. "MMPH SIR". Rich tried to say "yes, sir," but that's as good as he could get it. He saw Tom shoot a gob of cream into his hand, and then he spread it on Rich's pubes. Rich closed his eyes when he saw the razor. "I can't believe this is happening" he thought.
Then he lost control and shot his wad in front of him, moaning loudly through the tape. He saw the look on Tom's face, and he knew he was in trouble.
"Well, well, well. Someone can't control himself for sure, I guess." He was staring directly into Rich's eyes. Rich tried to look away, but Tom just pulled his head back. "You have something to say, slave boy?" He ripped the tape from Rich's mouth.
"I'm sorry, Sir" Rich responded in a low, shaky voice. I...I tried but..." Then he moaned when Tom grabbed both of his nipples and squeezed.
"When you don't behave the way I tell you to, there will be punishments." Rich gulped. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir." He saw the evil look on Tom's face. "I know JUST what the right punishment for this is." He untied Rich's wrists. "You're gonna shave yourself. I'm gonna watch and so are you. You're gonna stand here, right in front of the mirror, and get yourself nice and clean. And be careful with the razor. It's sharp.
"Sir, I've never done this before" Rich responded. Tom folded his arms. "Well, there's a first time for everything. Get busy. There are much more painful things I could do to you, as I'm sure you can imagine."
Rich gulped. "Yes, Sir." He began to tear up as he covered his pubes with cream. "Doms drink sub tears like tea, muffin. You're only getting me hotter." "Yes, Sir." Rich almost whispered, as he began to shave himself. He tried to imagine he was a competitive swimmer, getting ready for a competition, but when he remembered that Tom swam, he began to imagine Tom seeing him doing this in a locker room, and he began to stiffen again.
"I think I'm done, Sir" Rich stood at attention with his hands behind his back. Tom looked him over, taking his balls and cock in his hands. "It's an ok job. It'll remind you of what you are, slave boy. Now, let's clean off this shit, and then get your cage back on." He looked at Rich. "It's almost time for the main event of the evening." Rich felt Tom's hand snake behind him, and his finger run up and down his ass crack.
That's when Rich lost control again. As he dreamt of Tom playing with his ass, he shot again. He woke up and either he had just had a world record climax, or he had climaxed earlier that night. He sat up in bed, catching his breath. "I have to do something about this. It's driving me crazy," he thought. He wasn't sure what he should do, though.
Again, he tried to follow his normal routine at work. Before he left the house in the morning, though, he dug through his "toy" box and found a cage he had bought years ago. He had never used it. "Maybe I'll find someone to lock it on me next time," he thought, as he caged himself before getting dressed. It was a strange feeling, and it got stranger during the day. Rich got aroused easily, and the constriction of the cage was not something he was used to. Seeing it when he used the bathroom was also new, as was trying not to show it when he changed for the gym. He put on baggier shorts than usual, hoping no one would notice. "The regulars" were there, and no one said anything, not even the guy he had tricked with once. (Rich had faked losing a wrist wrestling contest where the winner would top the loser. The other guy wasn't that great a top). "Hey. By some chance do you guys know a guy who works out here, mostly swims, who looks like..." He described "Tom" to them. Most of the guys just shook their heads no, but one relative newcomer spoke up. "Oh, yeah. That's Bart. Nice guy. You haven't hooked up with him yet?" Rich blushed. "Uh, no. I just noticed him two days ago." The other guy answered "You looking for a date with him? Don't waste your time. He's big time popular because, well, let's just say he's big time." Rich looked at him.
"How do you know?" His new "buddy" continued. "He used to go to another gym. A friend of mine works out there. Bart hooked up with him for a while. He's a no-nonsense top. According to my friend, average equipment but way above average technique." When Rich didn't say anything, the guy continued: "he tends to gravitate toward other swimmer types. At least as far as I know. My friend told me that he could smell a sub from 50 paces. OH. One other thing. He has a unique pick-up line. If he's interested, he'll ask "ya busy?" If you say no, you won't hear from him again.
"You crushing on him, Rich?" his friend Mark asked. "He's SO far from your type from what you've said, I can't believe it." Rich stuttered "No, uh, no. I just thought he had an interesting beard. His friend kept teasing him. "I didn't know you were into scruff, Rich."
"I'M NOT. And I'm not crushing on him. I didn't even go looking for him today," he spat out, and then blushed deep red. Flustered, he dropped the weights he was using and huffed back to the locker room.
He hadn't seen Bart that day , which was a disappointment. He had worn a shirt and a pair of slacks that fit him like a glove, hoping that Bart would notice. But he wasn't there. "FUCK. Nothing about this is right. Everything SUCKS" he said out loud, and then apologized to the three guys in the locker room. He put on his wind breaker and headed out.
He gulped as he exited. Right there, leaning up against a car, arms folded, smiling. It was Bart, formerly known as Tom. "Oh shit," Rich thought. He froze. Bart was staring at him, smiling. He moved off the car and got closer to Rich. He kept smiling. "Ya busy?" He asked.