One Sub Stud Ch. 01

Chris paled. He had read and fantasized about this since the first time he had seen something like it online, but he also completely dreaded it.

It was a male chastity device.

"You know what this is, boy?"

"It's a Holy Trainer, Sir."

"That's right, boy. And you know where it's going?"

Chris swallowed. "On my dick, Sir?"

"More like a clit, wouldn't you say, boy?"

Chris' penis was four inches hard, and it jumped a little at being humiliated.

"Yes, Sir."

"Say it, boy."

"It's going on my little clit, Sir."

"And why is it going on your little clit, boy?"

Mark's own large, thick, uncut meat was pulsing with his heartbeat.

"So that I can focus only on your pleasure, Sir." Chris bowed his head, mortified but fulfilled.

Mark reached out with his right hand. Chris felt a finger under his chin, gently raising it.

"Say that again, boy," Mark said quietly, his dark blue eyes intense but not unkind.

"I want to focus only on your pleasure, Sir," Chris said slowly. It was hard to be that vulnerable, to say something so demeaning while looking into his Dom's eyes. He felt safe, yes; but he was also deeply embarrassed.

Mark noticed the boy's dick starting to wilt, and made a mental note of it. He also took advantage of Chris' lack of tumescence to start putting the device around his cock and nuts. Chris' balls slipped through the ring of the Holy Trainer easily, and then Mark pushed the boy's shaft through.

The older man held two fingers in front of Chris' face.

"Open."

Chris opened his mouth obediently, and Mark stuck the fingers in.

"Get them wet."

Chris swirled his tongue around and struggled to manufacture saliva in his dry mouth.

"Wetter."

Chris put more effort into making moisture. Mark withdrew his sloppy fingers and quickly, roughly stroked them over the boy's little cock and ran them around the inside of the chastity cage. Thus crudely lubed, the Dom began to push Chris' thin member into the device. It took some prodding since Chris was now half hard, but in less than a minute, the boy's dickhead had made it past the thin part of the tube's shaft and into the plastic bulb at the end of it. Poor Chris' small endowment was dwarfed by the chastity device; even half hard, he didn't come close to filling it. Mark fit the two pieces together, and produced the key.

"Are you ready, boy?"

Chris blinked and shuddered. He nodded.

"Say it to me, Chris. Ask me to lock you up."

This was hard. Chris looked reluctantly into his Dom's eyes, and said the magic words: "Please lock up my little penis, Sir."

"Are you sure that's what you want, boy?"

Nooooo! Chris screamed inside his head . . . but he knew that was the wrong answer. If he didn't agree, he'd get another caning. And there was no more unmarked real estate on his ass, so it would really be excruciating. Or worse, Mark would simply send him away. And Chris knew he didn't want that. Thoughts of punishment and control made his dick started to swell in the device, finally meeting plastic on all sides. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. Chris thought . . . and decided.

"Yes, Sir."

"Alright, boy, you asked for it."

Mark's long, thick cock was leaking precum now. He slid the key into the cleverly constructed lock, and twisted. The small metal piece which had been on the tip of the key was now embedded in the acrylic, sealing the device . . . and Chris' fate.

The bearded boy immediately wished he had asked how long his lockup was to be - but it was too late.

Mark sat back in his chair, contemplating his charge. He saw the conflicting emotions on the boy's face, and watched him fight to control it. Chris closed his eyes, and Mark let him twist, wondering what his precious sub would do next.

Chris waited for an instruction; hearing none, he opened his eyes. He couldn't meet Mark's gaze, and figured he'd retreat into something safe and easy. He leaned forward, easing the pressure on his back, and started licking his Master's feet.

"Good boy," Mark said warmly. He had been ready to hug his sub, but apparently that wasn't necessary yet. It would be later, he knew. "Get down there and sniff deep. Show me how much you love the smell and taste of your Master's sweaty feet."

Chris licked eagerly and vigorously, once more swept up in servitude. He was grateful for his Dom's attention, for his discipline, and for his fucking fantastic body. He showed it by pouring his heart into worshipping the large, meaty feet in front of him . . . savoring the different sweat tastes that the heel and the ball of the foot offered, and settling in on the joints right under the toes. That was Chris' favorite smell. He sucked each toe, licked between each one. He rubbed the soles with his face and hands.

No real man would ever do this, he thought to himself, and for a moment he minded. And then he thought of his locked dick. You're not a real man anymore, if you ever were, he thought. Just get to work, and don't think. You're not meant to think.

Mark rolled his head back, ran a hand through his wavy black hair, and sipped his scotch. The boy's attention felt awesome. Before long, he had beckoned Chris up to his crotch, and his sub was slobbering all over his huge, uncut cock. There was plenty of drool in Chris' mouth now.

Mark held Chris' head and pumped it up and down his shaft, using his boy, owning that mouth. Chris had only been locked a few minutes, but Mark thought he could tell a difference in his sub's energy - a greater eagerness, a keener devotion.

Just wait'll you've been locked a month, Mark thought, smiling to himself. Then you'll REALLY be giving amazing head.

Heh. All in good time. Start slow, take care of the boy, and it'll all happen. And that silly jock twit Chris was so hung up on will fade away like a cloudy night, and I'll be the dawn, his awakening.

Mark increased the tempo of Chris head-bobbing, and began to moan.

"Are you ready, boy? Ready to take your Sir's load?"

"GYETHHUH, NGGGG!!"

Mark began to spasm, and erupted. He plunged Chris' head all the way down to the root, and shot after shot of bittersweet goo went straight down the sub's throat. Chris attempted to swallow, found he couldn't, and tried to let it cascade down. He sputtered, and Mark released his iron grip. Coughing, Chris reached automatically for his own swelling dick . . . but his hand met plastic. Fuck!

The intensity of his plight hit Chris, and he floundered for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He worked his tongue and lips, getting the last of Mark's cum into his gut, and licked the Dom's glans, cleaning up. His hand fluttered down to his useless, locked dicklet again, rubbing the cage.

Mark opened his eyes, and watched Chris with amusement.

"Looking for something there, boy?"

Chris blushed. Mark cupped the boy's chin with his hand.

"What's going through your mind right now, boy? Be honest."

"I don't really know, Sir."

"Look at me, boy. It's ok. You can say what you're thinking."

"I honestly don't know what I'm thinking yet, Sir. It's definitely . . . weird not being able to get hard." Chris sank back on his haunches.

"And sucking cock made you want to get hard, huh?"

"Yes Sir," Chris said softly, his eyes falling to Mark's feet again.

Mark leaned in, fixing the boy with his intense blue eyes. "Tell me more, sub."

Chris paused.

"Look up, boy."

"I'm embarrassed, Sir."

"About what?" Mark's cock started to swell again. Embarrassment was an aphrodisiac. He fucking loved it. And he wanted to savor this moment of pure, unadulterated sub-shame before he became too nice again. After all, a Dom need an emotional reward. It wasn't just about cumming . . . when the sub couldn't. Mark couldn't completely suppress a grin.

"Tell me, boy. Look right at me and tell me."

"I'm embarrassed about how the . . . lock . . . makes me feel, Sir."

"And how does it make you feel, boy?"

Chris shifted. His legs were beginning to ache. "Submissive. Obedient."

Mark smiled, he hoped encouragingly. "Anything else?"

The last adjective was the hardest, but Chris felt he had to say it. He wanted to be honest, as open as he could be.

"Humble."

Fuuccccck. Mark's cock twitched again. Humble. Now THAT was something, from a smart, handsome, well-built kid like Chris.

"Show me how humble."

Chris glanced up quickly; Mark read panic in his eyes. He fought the urge to help. Telling the boy what to do would be too easy. See what he does, how he handles it.

"I don't know what you'd like, Sir."

Mark laid a warm, large hand gently on top of Chris' head.

"I bet I'll like whatever you want to show me, boy."

That shot of confidence made Chris' own small penis push against its cage; his nuts began to ache where the plastic ring encircled them.

How do I show him how humble I feel? Chris thought. He contemplated various humiliating tasks he could perform . . . lick the floor, crawl to the toilet bowl and put his head on the rim, or simply bend over, arch his back, and grab his cheeks to display his hole for his Master. No . . . humble. Not humiliated. A subtle but important distinction.

Chris rose to his feet, head down, and walked quickly to the bathroom. He found a washcloth and ran it under hot water for a minute. He came back to the living room and knelt again at Mark's feet, placing the warm cloth on his Dom's groin. He gave Mark a gentle wipe down, cleaning off his spit from the Master's cock. Like at a restaurant after a messy meal, or at the end of an overnight flight. He moved down to Mark's feet, wiping them too. He carefully bathed all the parts he had touched with his tongue, making his Master pure again.

Mark purred, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes. He let the boy work, appreciating the gesture and the care. Chris finished, and silently took the cloth over to the laundry, then returned to kneel at Mark's feet. He loved serving his Man this way. He allowed himself to think, briefly, that he could also love this Man.

"Good boy," Mark said. He opened his eyes. Damn, that kid is sexy, he thought. In one swift gesture, he gathered his surprised sub up in his arms and carried him into the master bedroom. He laid Chris carefully on the bed, and snuggled up next to him, kissing the boy on his eager mouth. This was his reward for good service.

But what a twisted reward it was, Chris soon realized. Kissing a hot guy made him instantly hard . . . and his dick was locked up. His nether region got uncomfortable very quickly. He began humping Mark's thigh; the Dom laughed.

"Feeling a little frisky there, boy?"

"Um . . . yes, Sir." Chris stopped bucking his pelvis, but it was hard to know what to do instead. There was so much tension inside him, he didn't know how to address it. He started kissing Mark again.

"That's it, tiger," Mark growled, and he rolled the boy over onto his back, pressing his hairy body on top of the pliant submissive, thrusting his tongue into Chris' mouth. He was hard again in less than a minute. Chris' soft moans as he tried to figure out how to get his pleasure solely from making out made the Dom even harder.

Well, when your dick is locked up, that leaves at least one obvious answer, Chris thought, and raised his legs in the air, locking them behind Mark's back.

Bingo, Mark thought. Even quicker than I hoped. He reached into the nightstand for lube.

Chris' neck arched back into the pillows as the first finger penetrated his anus. Shamelessly, he grabbed his ankles to give Mark full access to his boy hole, and closed his eyes. He winced at the pain from his caned ass, but it faded to a dull ache. His locked dick bobbed uselessly in the cage; the thwarted erection made the plastic device bounce from side to side. One of Mark's fingers grazed the boy's prostate, and then another. He wasn't rough, but he wasn't taking a lot of time, either. The boy was ready, thrusting his ass up and out to meet Mark's hand.

Nice. What a fuckin' hot slut boy. Mark leaned forward and whispered, "I'm gonna nail your pretty ass, boy, gonna fuck you like you never been fucked before, and you're gonna fuckin' take it. You're gonna try so hard to get hard, but your pussy is the only thing gonna give you pleasure tonight, got it?"

"Yes, Sir!" Chris gasped, incredibly horny. He wished he could touch his dick, but as long as there was action in his ass, he was satisfied - for the moment. Mark slid his huge, thick, uncut meat into Chris' barely stretched hole, and the boy gave a tight yell, eyes still closed. The dark-haired man thrust a few times, eliciting little yelps. The cries made Mark's cock swell even thicker.

Fuck this face-to-face shit, he thought, and pulled out. His height and strength made it easy for him to flip Chris over. The boy was surprised, but he needed dick back in his hole, NOW. He spread his knees wide and bounced his muscular, firm, red-striped ass a few times, craving that massive fuckstick.

Mark didn't make him wait. Gradually but firmly, he pushed all nine inches into Chris' ass.

"YESSSsssssss!! Fuck me, Sir!"

You got it, Mark thought, smiling. Chris was always fun, but a locked dick did so much for a boy's enthusiasm.

"Unngh . . . unghh . . . unghh . . . "

Mark kept up a steady rhythm, gradually plunging farther and farther in. Chris' gasps grew more intense as Mark's massive prick breached the upper end of his rectum, but even that uncomfortable sensation grew hotter as the boy felt himself being thoroughly, completely bred.

And it was very, very thorough. Mark's second cum took a long time to build. Face buried in the mattress, lightly hairy ass high in the air, Chris felt more and more like a slut the longer Mark fucked him. He gripped the fitted sheet hard in each hand, not even bothering to try and touch his useless boy clitty . . . which was securely locked away. He had softened when Mark had first entered him, then grown slowly harder as the battering kept up. He had an uncomfortable feeling he had to pee as Mark began circling and grinding, hitting his prostate from several angles. But he sublimated that into pure lust and joy at being dicked down so hard by a hot, masculine, hairy stud.

"Fuck yeah, boy, use your ass muscles!" Mark reached out and grabbed Chris' shoulders, using the leverage to pump in harder and deeper.

Chris began to clamp down a bit with each thrust, sending jolts through his Dom. Every time he did, it felt like ten hands massaging Mark's enormous cock. A few minutes of that were all the dark-haired man could take. With quick, hard thrusts, he sent his load deep into Chris' insides, grunting with each shot.

"Yesssssss, Daddy," Chris yelled, pumping his hips back all the harder. When Mark collapsed onto Chris' back and his fat meat plopped out of the boy's loose, wet fuckhole, the sub moaned with disappointment.

He began humping the bed, desperate for some kind of friction to reach his angry, deprived penis. But there was only frustration.

Mark laughed softly, and hopped out of bed. It was his turn to fetch a hot washcloth. He cleaned Chris' hole and crack gently, and then gathered the boy in his arms for more kisses. His intent was to soothe, but it made Chris even hornier.

"Fuck, this isn't fair!"

"Oh yes it is, boy," Mark smiled. "And if you complain about it, I'll leave you in for two weeks instead of just one."

"WHAT?!"

Mark rolled on his back with laughter. "Aw c'mon, little stud. I'm just teasing. You'll be out in ten days, max."

"Ten days?! I didn't . . ." Chris' voice trailed off. He was pretty sure Mark wasn't serious, but didn't want to make it worse.

"Hey, hey . . . look at me, kiddo. You'll be ok. I'm not going to unlock you right now, I want you to feel what you're going to feel, and tell me about it. I want you to communicate with me."

"Ok, Sir." Chris sounded doubtful. "I really wish I knew when . . . I should have asked . . ."

"It's ok, boy." Mark kissed Chris. "It won't be longer than you can handle, I promise you that."

"So in a few minutes?"

"Ha, no boy. Do you need another caning?"

Chris retreated quickly.

"No, Sir!" He settled into the crook of Mark's arm and laid his head on the dark chest fur. "I'm just sooooo horny now, Sir."

"Good boy," Mark said, amused. "That's the point. Chastity keeps a sub horny and compliant. It's good for you."

Chris groaned and half sobbed, biting Mark's nipple softly.

"You'll be ok, boy. Now time to get some sleep."

Mark made Chris brush his teeth, got him into his "jammies" (a large t-shirt of Mark's and a pair of flannel boxers Chris kept in the apartment) and settled him into the king-sized bed. They both drifted off quickly - but Chris' rest was short-lived. An ache emanating from his groin woke him up after an hour.

Fuck, he thought, I'm usually hard all night long. How the hell am I gonna sleep in this damn thing? That question, and his throbbing prick, kept him up. He was careful not to adjust his position too much, so as not to wake Mark . . . but real sleep was elusive. His mind began to wander, and he found himself disobeying Mr. Fitzsimmons' earlier injunction: he pictured another masculine, dominant man. One with a shaved head, muscular arms, and gorgeous brown eyes. Once his brain had strayed over to the forbidden fruit, he couldn't drive it from his mind. And because he was horny, his trapped erection aching like a motherfucker, all he could think of was sex. Sucking Justin. Justin fucking him. Justin spanking him. Justin kissing him, and fucking him some more. All the nights they had spent together in their shared dorm room, Chris on his knees. All the nights they had spent in Chris' rented attic pad, Chris on his back. One scene after another played itself out, and however hard the boy tried to wrestle his thoughts back to Mark, his lizard brain betrayed him.

Chris drifted fitfully in and out of a tense doze, until finally it was morning. Bleary-eyed, he waited more and more impatiently for Mark to wake up. His nuts ached like nothing he had ever experienced.

Mark woke slowly, and threw an arm around Chris.

"Hey, boy."

"Hey, Sir," Chris replied grumpily.

"How'd you sleep, boy?"

"I didn't, Sir."

"Awwww," Mark cooed, moving in to hold the boy, but Chris' bladder was bursting.

Their morning passed edgily, with Mark displaying no inclination to unlock the chastity device. Chris' morning wood would not go down; he was not unused to sitting to pee, but the constant sensation of ache and frustration had gotten very old. Coupled with the still-sharp sting on his butt from the caning, he was a mess of discomfort. Mark had also slept poorly, despite Chris' impression that he had snored all night; he proposed a nice Sunday brunch as a way to put them both in a better frame of mind. He left the restaurant up to Chris, giving him three to pick from.

"I don't know," Chris said peevishly, glancing at the menus on his phone. "Kingsbury Street Cafe looks good."

"Excellent choice, boy," Mark said, smiling slyly.

They were early enough that the diner wasn't crowded. Mark exchanged nods with Jerry, the owner, who was a bear of a guy and an old friend. They took a table in the front bay window.

Coffee served to wake them up; full stomachs improved their moods.

"So any plans for this evening, Chris?"

"Not really, Sir. I'll probably go for a run down by the lake. I do that all the time, as long as it's not too hot."

"Up by where you live? There's great parks by the lake there."

"Yeah, more or less. Definitely away from campus. Or even into the city. But usually down to the beach at Lee St. or Main. It's nice to sit down there on the rocks, too. I can stay out there for hours, looking at the water and the fading light. I stay until it's totally dark sometimes."