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.”

“Very poetic, boy. Although I wouldn’t recommend sitting on rocks for a few more days.”

Chris smiled politely.

“So how are you feeling?”

The bearded boy suppressed a grimace.

“Horny and achy, Sir.”

Mark smiled kindly. “I know boy. I meant, how are you holding up mentally? Everything ok?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Chris said. He appreciated the inquiry, but the uncertainty of where this was all going and how long his lockup would last was causing non-stop anxiety. “I wish I knew when you were going to unlock me.”

” . . . Sir.” Mark finished for him.

“Sir,” Chris echoed curtly.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Mind your manners, young man. Snippy boys stay locked.”

Chris rolled his eyes but subsided.

“I’ll unlock you when I think you’ve learned some lessons about chastity. How to behave, for example.”

“I’ve been really well-behaved!”

“Oh really? You seem a little impatient.”

“I’m just having a hard time adjusting to this . . .” – Chris lowered his voice to a whisper – “. . . thing around my cock. Sir.”

Mark’s face was impassive.

“I know, boy. It’s part of your training. And if you don’t improve your attitude, it’ll part of your punishment.”

“But I’ve been in it for 12 hours!” Chris raised his voice. “And it hurts!”

“Are you yelling at me, young man?”

“No, I’m not. I would just like to know when you’re planning on taking this thing off.”

Chris’ animation had caught Jerry’s ear; he turned to look at Mark, and winked.

“If you don’t start behaving again, never,” Mark replied sternly, his cock thickening.

Chris snorted with outrage. “Come on, it’s a simple question.”

Mark shot a look at Jerry.

“That’s enough, young man. You’re being disrespectful.”

“I am NOT, I’m just asking a question,” Chris pouted.

Mark stood up.

“Come with me.”

“What? Where?!”

“I said come with me.” Mark took a step toward the back of the diner. “Do I have to grab you by the ear in front of all these people?”

The Dom spoke just loudly enough that the couple at a nearby table could have overheard, if they hadn’t been engrossed in their own political conversation. Chris was mortified and growing angry . . . but the plastic around his dick left him few options. If he left the restaurant, he’d have to walk all the way to an emergency room to get it removed. Or to a hardware store. Finding one with a hunky, sympathetic guy with a saw and a VERY steady hand seemed unlikely. He got up, and followed Mark in the direction of the kitchen.

They passed the restrooms; Chris grew more nervous. What was all this about? He had imagined a couple of swats in the men’s room like at the Thai place the summer before.

Jerry caught Mark’s eye and cocked his head subtly. Mark followed the direction of the owner’s look and saw a door on the far side of the dish washing station.

“Over here, young man.” Mark led the way, and opened the door; it was a small broom closet. Perfect. “Get in.”

Chris hesitated, but when he realized that both cooks and the busboy were staring at him with curiosity, he scurried in to escape their attention. Mark followed and shut the door. There was a single fluorescent bulb overhead, and a thin line of light under the door. The sounds of clanging pots and utensils filled the little space.

Mark immediately grabbed Chris’ belt and undid it, lowering the boy’s shorts and underwear to the floor.

“I will NOT tolerate disrespect from a sub I’m training, Chris. The discomfort you’re feeling right now is only going to get worse.”

The boy was too stunned to protest, as the humid air from the closet hit his exposed bottom and caged dicklet. He felt large hands grip his torso. Mark put his left foot on a box of decorations, bent the boy over his knee, and looked around the closet to see if there might be an appropriate tool. Mostly bottles of cleaning supplies. A mop. Wait, what was that? Mark reached over to a shelf. It was the brush of a push broom, but it was missing its pole. A bit severe, but it would do. And Chris needed to learn that Mark was not messing around. He picked it up, wondering for a second if Jerry had left it there on purpose. Either way . . . it was getting used.

“I am VERY disappointed in you, Chris. You’ve been doing nothing but sulk and whine all morning. Chastity is hard. Sub training is hard. But you need it, right, boy?”

Chris did not reply.

Mark looked briefly at his boy’s proffered buttocks – they were still striped from last night’s caning, but the marks were only pink now instead of red. This is definitely gonna hurt, he thought.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!! . . .

Mark delivered five blows in quick succession. There was no way the kitchen noise was covering it – they both knew it. Nonetheless, Chris fought back any sound – no yelling, no crying, just very quick gasps with each swat.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

Mark didn’t speak either, but attended to business and dispensed harsh justice.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

Each stroke fell with equal strength. The handsome, built Dom did not hold back. There were forty in all, and then it was done. Forty hard swats with the back of a wooden brush on an already caned bottom. Chris was in agony, but he didn’t make a sound. His solid, muscular ass was bright red and turning crimson. Small rough spots were appearing in the plumpest part of both cheeks, but there would be no lasting damage – despite the speed of the punishment, Mark had paid attention to aim and coverage. He replaced the brush on the shelf.

“Pull your pants up, boy.”

Chris obeyed, blinking tears away from his eyes.

Mark reached for the doorknob, but Chris grabbed his wrist.

Not daring to make eye contact, he pleaded: “Please don’t make me walk out in front of all those people, Sir!”

Marked glanced down at his sub’s short blond hair. He took Chris’ chin in his hand and spoke firmly.

“You need to learn how to show respect for your Dom, Chris. I’m investing time in training you, and you need to take responsibility for when you fuck it up. Your attitude needed adjusting, and so I took appropriate measures. Do you disagree?”

Chris shook his head, scared.

“You were so sweet and humble last night, and this morning you’re a different person. I can’t let behavior like that slide. You are to be polite and respectful and all times. Discipline is going to teach you that. And so is embarrassment. Yes, you are going to march right out there, back into the kitchen, past the staff, past the owner, and past the other customers. You will wait on the street. I will pay the bill, and collect you in a minute. Is that understood?”

Defeated, Chris twisted his head gently out of Mark’s hand.

“Yes, Sir.”

Mark opened the closet door. Chris took a step out, and then saw a rear door just a few feet away. It looked like it opened on the alley behind the diner. He begged Mark with his eyes, but the Dom shook his head. Something in the slim, muscular boy’s face and bearing changed in that moment. Was it resignation?

Chris walked as quickly as he could to the front of the restaurant, wincing with every step. That wooden brush had been no joke. The cooks looked at him curiously, and one of them grinned; they were too busy to get involved, though. The other patrons barely noticed the boy, although one male couple seated near the back of the dining room looked at Chris intently as he passed.

Mark walked calmly to the register, and handed his bill and credit card to Jerry.

“Bit hard on him, weren’t ya?” Jerry said with a smile as he swiped the card.

Mark shrugged amiably. “Sometimes a boy needs to learn a hard lesson. He’ll get over it. He’s a great kid.” He signed the receipt. “Thanks for accommodating.”

“Any time, Mark,” Jerry replied. “That got my morning off to an exciting start.” He leered at Chris’ tight body, visible through the bay windows.

“Easy, bud – no sharing. Yet,” Mark joked. “See ya later.”

Chris tensed when he felt Mark approach. Mark patted him on the butt, and he flinched.

“That’s a very well-punished bottom, young man.”

Chris nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“You’ll have lots to time to think about how you earned it.”

Chris nodded again, waiting for instruction. Mark began to walk, and Chris followed silently.

Mark looked at his boy carefully as they crossed the street, and decided there’d been enough scolding. He left Chris to his thoughts for the six blocks back to Mark’s condo. It was already a sticky day, and they were both sweaty by the time they got to the front door.

“Why don’t you come up -”

“I have to get to work -”

They spoke at the same time.

“Work? I thought you were off today.”

“No, I have to be in at 11:30, Sir,” Chris said, staring at the ground.

“I see.” Mark studied him for a moment. “You didn’t mention that last night.”

“May I go get my jeep, Sir?”

“Yes, boy.” Mark was surprised. Chris had not asked to be unlocked. Well, good boy, I guess – Mark smiled encouragingly.

They went in, and headed to the underground garage. Chris exited the elevator and made a beeline for the car. Mark half-jogged to keep up with him.

“Did you leave anything upstairs?”

“No, Sir.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sir.” Chris opened the jeep door.

“Wait, boy.”

Chris stood still.

“Are you planning on leaving with the lock still on?”

“I don’t know, that’s up to you, Sir.”

Mark looked at him searchingly, but the boy kept his eyes focused on Mark’s shoes. The Dom thought for a quick moment.

“I think you’ve worn it long enough, boy.”

Chris’ shoulders relaxed noticeably, although otherwise he maintained his posture.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Unbuckle your belt, boy.”

Chris complied, too emotionally exhausted to bother to check if anyone was around. Mark glanced over his shoulder, but they were between two tall vehicles, and this wouldn’t take long.

“Lower your shorts, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mark fished in his pocket, and slid the long, old-fashioned-looking silver key into its slot. He turned it, and withdrew it. The metal bit which had held the plastic pieces together was now reattached to the key.

“You can take it off, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chris removed the penis tube, and popped his nuts through the base ring. It was off in seconds, his member now naked, shriveled, weak-looking. He pulled up his clothes.

“Thank you for brunch, Sir.” Chris handed the Holy Trainer back to Mark, and got in the car.

“That’s it, boy?”

Chris concealed a grimace as he adjusted himself in the seat. It hurt to sit, and to move.

“Thank you for training me, Sir.”

“Of course, boy.” Mark leaned in through the open window. “I care about you, Chris. I care about you a lot.”

The boy looked up momentarily, but his expression was inscrutable.

“Thanks, Sir. I care about you too, Sir.”

Chris turned on the ignition.

“You did a good job last night, boy. It’s all a process. The first time in chastity is always tough. You made it over half a day. I’m proud of you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Text me when you get home, ok, boy? I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mark hesitated, then added, “We didn’t talk about it, but I hope you’ve decided to stay in your apartment your senior year, Chris. I think that would be better for you than moving in with . . . than moving.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mark smiled, and kissed Chris on the cheek.

“Ok. Drive safe, boy.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t forget to text me when you get in.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chris pulled out of the space and waited for the gate to open. Mark waved as he drove off.

Such a great kid, Mark thought, adjusting his swollen cock in his shorts as he rode the elevator up to his condo. He’s taking it hard right now, but he’ll be jacking off tonight about getting an ass-beating in the broom closet – and we both know it. He laughed easily to himself. And after a few weeks, or maybe even a few hours, he’ll be begging me to try chastity again. This one is a keeper.

 

Continued on the next page (link Below)