I was able to lose myself on my run as the adrenaline from my interaction with Lord Alex faded. Lord. I can’t believe I actually called him that. I can’t believe I was actually thinking of his name like that. I wasn’t sure I liked the terminology, but I liked his insistence.
I wondered if any drivers or passersby noticed the outline of the cage through my tight compression shorts that barely came down to 3 inches above my knees. Probably not. I was going too fast and the first thing they would notice was my bare chest and skimpy shorts, which I was used to exhibiting on a run.
People always say that no one is thinking about you as much as you imagine they are. I think there’s some truth to that. At the same time, I know how people see me and how people quickly form an opinion. I catch the glances. I see the evaluations. I know people take one gander and think I am classically handsome and exceptionally muscular. Many minds turn to eros.
I know people do it to me, because I do it to them. I often see a masculine, daddy-looking guy and become infatuated with his haughty attitude and the contours of his masculine demeanor, whether it’s an older burlier guy or a cocky dude my age like Lord Alex. Fuck. Lord again. I imagine myself at their feet. Sometimes I think I could worship some sleek, attractive girl – getting off on how I could surrender my larger, rougher form to her soft one. Many times I check out a beautiful, stylish couple and hope they would treat me like their favorite pet.
Yes, there is no doubt that people do think about me like I think about them. But it’s surface level. Objects of each of our own desires, whatever that desire may be. I bet some even envision being at my feet. Hah. Sweet dreams are made of this.
Back at my house, I was relieved to see that Gina had finished her cleaning and left. I felt a dull ache in my balls from the confines of the cage. I was so used to rubbing one out after a run. How do these guys I see online cage up for so many days? Are they lying?
I feel myself struggling to harden again. A man – a stranger – took a picture of me flexing with a clear cage outline. A picture like that in the right place could get tons of comments from in-the-know gays. Suddenly, I felt like my life could come crashing down. I imagined friends and family asking who took the picture. I thought of what the co-workers at my parents’ company, who already looked down on me because of the nepotism and my made-up position, would say. They would all wonder why people were commenting with padlock emojis and calling me a “Good boy.” They would see that something was not quite right with the bulge. They would Google. It wasn’t even a nude and yet it was all so embarrassing.
And exhilarating. Looking at it again and again on Lord Alex's text window, I also thought, "You should post it. Show all the men what a good boy you are." Lord Alex had real power over me now. I could cut the plastic lock to my cage myself if I wanted to. I could live down any consequence of the picture if I had the stomach for it. But I wasn’t sure I did. And, in any event, I loved that the mysterious, smoldering Lord Alex should have the choices. I had always harbored a tortured, conflicted desire to have my privilege, options, and – yes – my clothes, stripped away. I wanted to see where else my Lord would take me. What else he would give. What else he would take away.
Which is why when I read the text, “Naked, on your knees, hands behind your head, elbows up, face visible,” I barely hesitated to comply. I even took the time to find the best lighting, set up my camera timer, and edit the contrast.
“Good bitch,” he said. He followed up with a time to meet him the following Friday. “Cage check at 8AM, 12PM, 6PM, and before bed each day. Always full nude with face.”
“Yes, Sir” I replied out of habit with so many online doms of years’ past.
“I’m your Lord, slave.” he texted back.
“Yes, my Lord,” I said. He gave that a thumbs up.
I laid down on my bed, sweating profusely. I had been stroking my caged nub to no avail and mounting frustration the entire time. It really was tight. I wondered if it was too tight for my health. I so wanted to cut the lock and gratify myself as usual.
“No,” I thought. “My Lord wants me locked.”
After Zack’s nude made me cum, I looked at it again with a clear head as I winded down on my couch with basketball on in the background. The photo was simple proof of my ownership of the former golden boy. Zack was completely exposed in such a subservient pose. If that wasn’t humiliating enough, the cage on his tiny dick marked his servitude and lack of control. Even more than that, the picture's existence and that the boy voluntarily sent it to me demonstrated both his inferiority and my power. A guy who deserved privacy or dignity would not so readily sacrifice it. A man would simply never submit like Zack submitted. All the muscles and good looks in the world could not hide his little locked dick or his pathetic desire to surrender.
I could have destroyed Zack’s life with this picture. But why would I do that? I wanted to get use out of my property. I valued his need to serve. No, I would be a benevolent lord that ruled with compassion and care. Lounging on my couch, I fantasize as I stretched my legs. I envisioned myself as some sort of ancient Roman emperor. Muscled men and lithe women fanning me, feeding me grapes, and washing my feet as I ruled.
I wasn’t just an emperor, I was a conqueror. Zack had been at the top of the pack. Rich. Admired by others. In his prime. I had cut him down. Put him in his real place. Took away his leisurely world where things revolved around him and consigned him to a life of servitude to someone who deserved it more.
On the other hand, I was just receiving nudes from a gay guy. Did that make me gay? I suddenly became worried for Zack and considered deleting the picture from my phone, not wanting to be responsible for any potential repercussions. He must have really trusted me, a thought that made me swell with pride. He must have been really confident and brave to send a picture like that. Who wouldn’t have, with a body and face like that? What a funny guy. A precious possession that I also had to protect.
My slave. I started doing some due diligence, knowing I would have to maintain and upkeep my property. I looked up articles about BDSM. I looked at stories from others on Reddit. I went down a porn wormhole. I thought more about how I would put him to use and how I wanted to see him.
To my surprise, I was already rock hard again. I considered another porn search. Then I remembered I had my new toy at my disposal.
"Suck a door knob like a dick, naked, hands behind your back," I texted him. Minutes later, I had exactly what I wanted on my screen. Zack looked so stupid on his bathroom floor with his mouth wrapped around a metal handle, keeping his hands obediently out of the way, exposing his straining caged dick and muscular body. I couldn't believe I could get such a stud to do such ridiculous things. I laughed in amazement. I had really struck gold this time. "Holy shit!"
