Pup Maxx

a good boy. now in houston, tx.

chastity

  • Houseboy Connor, Part two

    Connor had been serving Master Kyle for a little under a year. They had first began communicating online; Connor had read his Master’s profile and found the description to be quite alluring.

    He couldn’t remember who had messaged first, but it was probably him, since his Master was usually far too busy for such things. But their conversations quickly turned both sexual and sensational — Connor soon felt some deep connection, some primal instinct that just seemed to lure him to this man.

    It wasn’t just that Master Kyle’s desires and fantasies seemed so hot, so sexual, so perfect for him. The man seemed to understand him in a way that no one else ever had. For the first time, Connor felt seen. It made him excited and afraid. It made him feel powerful and vulnerable.

    At first, their dynamic was slow, gentle, limited by what little time they had to chat and whatever was possible through the medium. Connor would get little orders throughout the day.

    Do ten pushups, now, wherever you are. Find a spot that’s out of the way but where you’re clearly visible to everyone out and about, strip off your shirt, and take a picture. The next time you need to pee, go into the stall, and hold it for a full five minutes before you let go.

    Connor loved every second of it.


    It had been a few months before their relationship took a turn. Connor returned home one day to find a small package sitting in front of his door. There was no mailing label, no sticker, no markings. Just a brown box sealed with a strip of tape.

    His phone had run as soon as he picked it up — the shrill ping that signaled this wasn’t just another notification, but one from Master Kyle. Got my present, boy?

    I found an unmarked box at my door. Is that what you mean, Sir?

    Yes. It’s a gift and a proposition. If it’s what you want, this is the next step to ownership. Let me know what you think after you’ve opened it.

    Moments later, there it was, sitting on Connor’s dining table: a chastity cage. The first of what would be a series of cages he’d wear. Master Kyle had included a lock in the box, but no key.

    Connor had thought about it for hours. For a while, he just sat there, staring at the cage, picking it up and running his fingers over the smoothed edges and the polished black surface. He remembering putting the pieces together to see how it would fit, and then letting the cage come apart again so he could ponder his decision.

    He had seen cages like these before, and he knew that he could get himself out of them if he was soft enough and willing to put up with a little bit of twisting.

    But that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t the question that had been posed to Connor. It was about the commitment, the determination, the question posed by then-Sir Kyle about what Connor wanted from him, from the relationship. Was he willing to surrender?

    Yes, Connor had known his answer from the moment he saw the cage. But admitting that it was true — that it was what he really wanted — took a lot longer. He had to settle down the voices in his head warning him that this was a huge risk. That it was dangerous. That he could get hurt. That, perhaps, this surrender of power, of control, was something he wasn’t ready for.

    It was four hours before he picked up his phone again.

    I think yes. I’m ready.

    The reply was immediate. Then put on the cage, boy. From now on, you’re to refer to me as Master. Got it?