#gaybdsm — Public Fediverse posts

Ben softly lifted your head a little. You immediately felt a void within you. The longing to be filled by him. To feel his powerful presence within you. To devote yourself to him.

"Do not resist your destiny." His voice was tender. He nodded towards the office desk. You rose wobbly, exhausted but determined. The desk felt chilly against your bare back as you lay back on it, your legs spread, your bottom sticking out over the edge of the desk. Master Ben had taken off his jacket and trousers. With one hand, he played with your bum, massaging your arsehole. With the other, he patted your chastity cage, your locked-up willy thrashed around, throbbing.

It was a comforting feeling to have his strong body in front of you. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hands placed on your stomach, his cock resting on your bum. You remembered faintly how relieved you'd felt when Number 128 had made you cum by the pool.

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You saw that his penis was swelling hard. Of course he was getting off on seeing you kneeling pathetically in front of him. But you were strong; your mind was unbroken. You gathered your drool, knowing that spitting on your tormentor's arrogant cock would show him exactly what you thought of him. In your mind's eye, you could already see his trousers getting wet with your spit. How your saliva would slowly drip down his erect penis. How his hard cock would glisten in your moisture. You saw him unzip his fly. You imagined how good it would feel to spit on his cock right now. You imagined his glans moving back and forth, slowly, bulging, glossy. You imagined your spit mingling with the scent of his pubic hair. You wanted to say something, something nasty, something vulgar. But nothing came to mind. So you just poked your head forward, hoping it looked menacing and aggressive. Ben remained calm.

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"What do you think most people out there think would be the right response for me right now? To a ward showing a dangerous tendency toward violence, inciting my other boys?" asked Ben. He clearly wanted confirmation to discipline you. You braced yourself on your elbows and stuck your bare bottom out. Let him spank you! You'd take it like a grown man. Stavinsky answered his own question: "The appropriate thing would be to take you back to prison, where you belong. With a sign around your neck saying 'I love nothing more than sucking cock, but afterwards I secretly badmouth the men I begged to let me swallow their cum'. That would be fitting."

You knew he was trying to provoke you, but you couldn't control yourself. "No!" you blurted out, no longer submissive or humble. "I'm not begging, this device and you are making me do it against my will! I would never have agreed to the programme if I'd been told what it entailed."

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Ben's eyes wandered around the room as if he was deep in thought, weighing his words carefully. "What do you think: would society appreciate it if a violent criminal like you was released from prison and a benefactor agreed to act as your caretaker and guardian, only for you to then hatch an escape plan and try to get the other detainees to help you?" You were now determined to resist, but at first you replied with a feignedly shy, submissive "No". The good thing about the situation, you thought, was that if your guardian punished you now, the pain and humiliation would surely help to strengthen you mentally against him. Perhaps he would chastise your body, but your spirit would resist all the more as a result.

He asked you: "What do you think would be appropriate for me to do now?" You continued to play the shy one. "I accept your punishment, Mr Stavinsky."

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Ben Stavinsky sat in his office, slouched in his armchair, a tablet computer in his hand. His jacket was unbuttoned, his tie loosened. You could see his fine suit trousers straining over the bulge in his crotch.

Number 403 walked confidently over to him, knelt before him, and then bent forward so that his buttocks were pointing up in the air and his lips touched Ben's elegant leather slippers. You did the same, so that you were both on the floor side by side before your master. "You may go," Mr Stavinsky said to the kitchen boy, who quietly withdrew. Then he commanded you, "Look here!" and picked up his tablet.

"In doing so, we must always be extremely careful and make sure we don't put ourselves in danger!", you heard yourself say, and you saw a crystal-clear video recording of the moment when you were sitting at the kitchen table with the houseboy.

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"What legal problems could he possibly get into? That he's getting a few convicts out of jail and trying to turn them into well-behaved, productive citizens for the state? He'll probably be praised for that if the effort is successful." He looked incredulous, but maybe that was just a bluff. You objected: "He humiliates us constantly! He makes us kiss his feet, throw ourselves down before him, suck his cock. Yesterday he ordered the gardener to stretch my ass—while you were strapped to the fuck bench." Slowly, you worked yourself into a rage.

"But oh, Number 786, we willingly do that for him!" Now it was your turn to look incredulous. Number 403 continued: "When he allowed you to take his cock in your mouth, you wanted nothing more than to taste his juice. And he never had to force me to offer him my cunt." "But," you were getting a little too loud, "that wasn't consensual! The device in your head makes sure of that!"

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He moved over to you again and lovingly caressed your hard, aching balls. But Number 128 insisted that you turn off the light and hit the hay. For a long time, you couldn't fall asleep; your penis was rock hard, pressing against its much too tight cage. Your testicles felt numb, and your crotch was sore. The longer you lay awake, the more you felt how irritated and sore your butt hole had become.

Eventually, you fell into a restless sleep, and so it was up to Number 403 to wake you up the next morning. He seemed a little stressed to you, but was as professionally friendly as ever. You prepared breakfast, then made yourselves some semolina pudding with fresh fruit and extra flaxseed. You ate in silence until you couldn't take it anymore and decided to ask him a question. "Do you think Mr Stavinsky will get away with all this? Legally?" He looked at you, surprised and somewhat thoughtful.

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Number 128 gave you time to stimulate yourself anally. Right before you were about to climax, though, he softly took your hands off the beaded chain and placed them on your chest. A shiver of excitement ran through you with every bead he slowly pulled out of your butt, yet you didn't cum. You stayed on the bench for a while, trembling with excitement. Then both of you went to the bathroom.

It was already late when you returned to the dormitory. The house servant was there, radiating his usual good cheer. First, he gave you a big hug, rubbing your cages together. He took the gardener in his arms and gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth. "You two are so hot!" he moaned as he pushed you onto the bed. He leaned down toward you, pushing you into the pillows, and began licking your penis through your chastity cage. You felt your locked cock become rock hard as he skillfully worked it with his tongue.

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"Please," you moaned, "have mercy, at least for today."

He gently patted you on the head, which relaxed you. "Better a little sting now instead of Mr Stavinsky taking you unstretched." And with some force, he shoved the plug into your bum. You felt a sharp pain, but you also noticed a rush of fullness and excitement flooding your body. You wanted him to stop immediately. You wanted him to stuff you deeper and deeper. You were confused and overwhelmed. You felt the implant's control. You couldn't act at all. You noticed how he massaged your nipples with his fingers. Lust and arousal flowed through your body. With a loud moan, your body gave way and the plug slid into you.  

"Look," he warned, "our guardian will utilise us anyway. It is pointless to resist. That only makes it tougher."

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He cheered you on to do three sets of 15 woodchoppers on each side, and you could feel your muscles reaching their limit. He wanted you to do 15 reps on the seated abductor/adductor machine as well, but with the chastity cage on, it was tricky, especially since you had quite an erection by then. So he let you do goblet squats with a kettlebell instead. Three sets of Kegel exercises, and your muscles ached like they hadn't in a long time.  

Now he ordered you to lie on your stomach, thighs turned outwards and flat on the floor, similar to a swimming frog, with the chastity cage pressing against your stomach. You slowly spread your knees as far as possible while keeping them in line with your hips. He pressed your upper body onto your forearms until your elbows were under your shoulders. You groaned but obeyed him.  

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He explained that Mr Stavinsky could interact with the device, and thus with your brain activity, via a wireless interface, controlled from his phone. You remained doubtful.

"That would never be legal, and it wasn't in the contract either!" you replied. He explained to you, calmly and tamed, how it came about:

"The company told the politicians that they use the monitoring devices to work educationally with the prisoners. And for that, they needed a clause in the law stating that the devices could be used to suppress undesirable behavior." "'Undesirable behaviour', what is that supposed to mean?" you asked, uneasy. "Well," Number 403 objected, "things like violence, resistance, laziness. But also the failure to want the right thing, like a reluctance of sucking Mr Stavinsky's cock."

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Your throat was made for it, and it showed. Thrust after thrust, Mr Ben pushed his manhood into you. With each of his penetrations, you relaxed more, allowing him to go deeper and deeper. Soon, he started to pull out his cock every time, then ramming it down in your mouth until your nose was buried in his belly. Whenever he held your head with his beautiful cock swinging before your eyes, you felt empty and useless. You couldn't wait for him to put it back into your mouth, letting the lips feel it, having your tongue play with it just for the brief moment before he pushed it down even further. When you started to choke on it, he firmly pushed his cock even deeper, waiting for your body to settle.

It felt as if he had granted you the privilege to suck his cock for an eternity, when he pulled out, stopped, and guided you out of the bed. He stood there, his massive, erect cock waiting for your eager mouth.

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He slipped a plastic ring over your jaded balls, slipped your limp dick through it, pushed it into the tube, and locked it with a padlock. His servants were still holding you down, your torso pressed against the backrest and your legs split wide apart, exposing your crotch and butthole to him. That was unnecessary. You were pleased and happy that he was helping you become a good, valuable boy and tame your aggressive masculinity.

"Feeling better now, boy?" Mr Ben asked. You nodded, unable to speak. "Good to see you comply, number 786. Your violent nature needs to be tamed and controlled. I don't want to punish you, I am here to help you, boy. Don't try to resist; it will be much easier to simply accept your role. I know wearing a chastity cage can feel wrong first. It'll be better soon."

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"I know you have an unbridled, uncontrolled nature," Mr Stavinsky interrupted you before you even began to speak. "But you are here so that I can help you become a valuable, decent and capable person again, just as I am helping these boys," and he nodded to the others. His expression became grimmer: "I don't want my boys to go off the rails, challenge me or lose control of their sex drive. You are here to learn to be humble, follow rules and obey. I understand that this can be hard for some who have never learned to accept their position, and I am lenient and supportive towards all my boys."

The house boy and the pool boy had been as mute as mice while he spoke. At his gesture, they approached your chair, placed their hands on your shoulders and gently but firmly pushed your torso backwards. "Don't worry," he smiled at you, "I will help you."

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You really wanted to confront the scullion about your thoughts. This was all so confusing, outrageous. Back in the kitchen, you waited for a chance to talk seriously to him while you helped prepare dinner. Had you been mistaken when you thought he was so eager to give oral to Mr Ben? It didn't appear to you the chef was being forced; instead, he had begged for Mr Stavinsky to do this to him. And he had called the man's penis "delicious"! Was he indeed enjoying intimacy with his guardian?

And if so, why was he so emotionally flat and numb? He probably needed someone to talk to! You knew your legal rights: The guardian was allowed to make you both work for him while on the program, to help you become valuable, decent, and capable members of the society. But he could never demand any physical contact, you were pretty sure. And it wasn't only the kitchen boy.

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He confessed to you that he had been convicted of fraud and had been sent to prison for it. He had actually been a commercial solicitor before. In jail, he said, he couldn't cope, and he was glad to be on the program now and to live here with Benjamin, even though he still sometimes found it difficult to accept his role.

You looked down on him, at his chastity cage. He didn't seem very sad about it: "Well, the program is supposed to turn us into valuable, decent, and capable assets to society. You can't just run around bothering the supervisor with your wagging dick as a medically supervised ward, can you?" He shrugged. "And around here, we are not meant to use it anyway, we are only the service boys for him."

As number 128 said that, Mr Stavinsky had finished his swimming and interrupted your chat. The pool boy knelt and held out his towel.

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You both stood side by side back against the wall and lowered your gaze, silent waiting for your legal guardian to finish his first course. From the corner of your eye, you watched number 403 as he stood there, head bowed, his stomach rising and falling in rhythm with his calm breathing, his hands on his buttocks pushing his smooth crotch slightly forward, his flaccid penis hanging softly between his shaved thighs. Something was strange; you were a little startled and flinched: there were no testicles under his penis, just an empty, bare spot. Unintentionally, you leaned further forward and stared at the spot where the kitchen boy's manhood had gone. You would probably have been noticed had Mr. Ben not finished his soup at that moment. Number 403 hurried to his table to clear it. You followed him to the kitchen.

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Mr Stavinsky led you near the pool, where the garden boy knelt on all fours in front of a flower bed and was pruning the roses. He was naked as well, but he didn't seem to mind. When he saw you, he stopped, and still on all fours, his back bent, he lifted his head and greeted you with a broad smile. "Hello Mr. Ben, happy to see you! I hope everything is to your utmost satisfaction?" said the boy in a soft, empathetic voice.

Mr Stavinsky nodded and introduced you: "128, this is number 786. He will be assigned as a kitchen boy. Please welcome him." The boy crawled a step closer and looked you in the eyes. You had the impression that his expression had become somewhat more sympathetic. "Welcome, 786! It will be a pleasure to serve Mr. Ben together with you!" And to the guardian: "Sir, can I do anything else for your service?" "No, thank you," he said, taking a step towards the kneeling boy and stretching out his foot towards him.

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The house Ben led you through was modern and somewhat plush. You could see a spacious living room through a door, but he continued straight ahead. There were small, charming details everywhere.

"This is 403, my kitchen boy. He's currently busy preparing dinner." As the kitchen door swung open, you saw the scullion, bent over the worktop, focussed on preparing vegetables. He showed no reaction to your arrival. Like you, he was completely undressed, his bare buttocks protruding towards you. You turned towards Mr Stavinsky to ask him about it, but before you could, he said: "You'll be mostly working with 403. But for now, let's head to the garden to introduce you to garden boy 128." And with that, he stepped through the patio door into the outside.

You followed him, slightly puzzled.

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"I see you've already been properly shaved and depilated in detention, good." Your guardian seemed content with what he saw when you undressed. You looked around, but couldn't immediately spot a cabinet or work clothes he would assign to you, so you just looked at him with a slightly questioning expression. You were somewhat used to undress before other men, be it back in the gym shower or when you were still on the swimming team, or back in jail. But Mr Stavinsky just standing there, still and looking at you while you undressed, made you feel somewhat insecure. Also, it appeared to you, you hadn't jerked off in a while; you certainly didn't want to get a boner in front of him!

"Follow me, this way," he said. You were a little hesitant, but you trotted after him anyway. "By the way, you can call me 'Ben' from now on. I'll introduce you to the house and my other work boys."

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You had signed most of the paperwork before, but of course some bureaucrat had come up with even more things to sign, before you were then guided to the surgery theater. "Feeling nervous?" the charming surgeon asked. You nodded. You never liked medical personnel, and although she was kind and indulgent, you disliked the whole situation. "Fine," she said, "then we'll anaesthetise you and change you from 'unruly violent offender 64288' to 'medically supervised ward 786'." And she gave you a little injection.

When you woke up, you felt a slight pain in the nape of your neck, but the operation was minimally invasive and you were assured that by tomorrow you would hardly be able to see or feel the implant. Mr Stavinsky was there, too, and kindly smiling as before.

"Hello, ward 786. Happy to see you recover; take your time. When you're ready, we'll drive home."

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🇬🇧 version in reply.

🇨🇵Comment des circonstances professionnelles particulières m'ont amené au fisting

1er mars 2008, une journée marquée par une forte tempête sur la Belgique. Ce jour-là, je suis de service et au retour de Bruxelles, tout ne se passe comme prévu : la chute d'un arbre provoque la rupture de la caténaire entraînant l'immobilisation du train... Peu de dégâts, beaucoup de stress et un train avec trois cents personnes à évacuer... et une prestation prolongée de plusieurs heures...
A cette époque, j'avais un "fuck-friend" régulier et justement, voilà qu'il me propose de passer dans l'après-midi. Je me dis que ça ne sera pas une mauvaise idée pour se remettre des émotions du matin. Avant qu'il n'arrive, je me prépare.
Il arrive comme prévu et nous passons directement à la chambre, l'après-midi est déjà bien avancée et je bosse le lendemain. Nous commençons les préliminaires et tout d'un coup, il m'annonce qu'il voudrait faire avec moi quelque chose de nouveau. Je suis curieux et jamais contre de découvrir de nouvelles choses mais j'étais loin de m'imaginer l'objet de son envie : me fister!
Un bref instant, je me suis demandé si c'était bien raisonnable, je n'avais aucune expérience dans ce domaine et craignait d'avoir mal. Pour me rassurer, il me dit qu'il a de petites mains et doigts fins, ce qui était vrai mais quand même! Il me promet d'arrêter si ça ne me plaît pas ou si j'ai mal. J'ai confiance en lui et je décide de mettre mon sort, enfin, mon arrière train, à la merci de ses mains que j'espère expertes.
Pour ceux qui pratiquent le fisting régulièrement, ils savent combien la confiance en l'autre est essentielle, on ne pratique pas avec le premier venu car la pratique peut être dangereuse à plus d'un égard.
Il y est allé de manière douce et progressive et peu à peu, je me suis relaxé, tellement relaxé qu'au bout d'un moment, sa main entière est entrée provoquant une sensation intense mais pas désagréable. J'étais le premier surpris. Cela a duré encore un moment jusqu'à la jouissance mutuelle.
J'avais passé un cap dans la découverte d'autres formes de sexualité. Cela ne m'avait pas été désagréable mais cette expérience est restée plutôt unique. Tout au plus, j'ai réitéré la chose quelques fois mais ce n'était pas ce que je préférais et comme je l'ai dit, il faut un partenaire en qui on a entière confiance et qui est à l'écoute du corps de l'autre, le fisteur doit voir et sentir si quelque chose ne se passe pas bien.
Je ne regrette pas d'avoir essayé, cela m'a permis de découvrir d'autres sensations et de briser un tabou. La pratique étant malgré tout peu répandue et encore fort taboue même si comme d'autres pratiques, elle est sortie de son milieu d'origine (le milieu gay) pour se répandre jusque dans les couples hétérosexuels (Quels copieurs ceux-là, quand même!).

Un article bien fait sur le sujet trouvé sur le web : https://blogdunsexologue.com/fisting-pratique-intime/

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With one hand, he kept the chain short, while with the other, he slowly unbuttoned his trousers. Then he grabbed Perry's head with both hands and pushed it onto his cock without warning. Perry gagged briefly but obediently allowed his owner to bang his head.
‘We've neglected something,’ Jerome said. ‘Farrell is probably already very horny’ (he was absolutely right about that) ‘and deserves gratitude for his contribution. After all, it was his plan.’

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‘Trust me, sweetheart, we only want what's best for you. You don't need to be afraid, no one's going to harm you. Friendly Farrell is just helping me bring you closer to your true nature,’ said Jerome as he ran his hand over his boyfriend's neck and massaged his back and waist. ‘Do you like that?’ he asked casually, slapping the captive’s buttocks with his flat hand. Perry flinched, but his privates were still attached to the restraint bench with the short chain.

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You almost came in Perry's mouth, but you kept your composure, slowly circled around him and carefully pulled out the butt plug. He moaned softly as you pushed your cock into his hole. Although it had already been stretched, it was tight, but you dared to penetrate deep inside him. Your thighs bumped against his balls, which were still sheathed in the leather parachute, between his spread legs. It didn't take long for you to climax.

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When you pulled out, he even seemed a bit down. You caressed his head through the rubber with your leather gloves: ‘Does a fucktoy object really need to see?’ you asked, and before he could answer, you slipped the blindfold over his eyes. Perry swallowed. But when you gently placed your cock at his mouth, the sightless immediately began to lick it and opened his lips again. This time, you shoved your manhood into your toy's mouth with some force, making it choke.

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He looked incredibly hot lying there, his slender legs and well-formed arms fixed to the restraint bench, his head bowed and his soft face distraught, his round bum sticking up in the air. You could have watched him for hours and noticed how your cock got really hard. But before he came out of his subspace and started questioning the situation, you wanted to seize the opportunity to train him further. You blindfolded him and ordered him to stay calm and be grateful.

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‘I will do whatever you ask to ensure that we both get out of this situation safely and unharmed.’ A negotiation expert! you secretly delighted, but kept your face straight. You stood in front of him wide-legged, eager to hear what else he had to say. ‘My family and my partner will surely be missing me by now, and they’ll be here with the police soon.’ You knew that wasn’t true, and for a moment you considered telling him so.

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Back in the living room, you saw that Jerome had called you a few times, so you called him back. Then you went to bed early.

You didn't sleep very well that night. Once, you even tiptoed to the playroom and peeked cautiously through the door. Perry was lying on his back and seemed to be sleeping restlessly. You watched him for a moment: a really attractive bloke. You woke up early, but decided to wait a little longer before visiting your captive.

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You wrapped your arms around him and held him firmly against you. He began to sob softly and laid his head on your chest. You slid your gloved hand over the back of his head and gently stroked his neck. He threw his arms around you and snuggled even closer. You enjoyed his tender affection. With one hand, you caressed his buttocks, with the other you pulled his head towards you. You pressed your mouth to his lips and the two of you kissed, your tongue exploring his mouth.

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Then came the part for which your planning was least precise: you had to prepare the captive for the night. First, you tried to soothe him so that he wouldn't act out of desperation. You ran your hands over his trembling thighs, over his gradually softening penis, through his ass crack and up his back. ‘Just be a good, obedient boy, and nothing will happen to you,’ you admonished him, hoping your voice sounded firm and commanding.

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