His Rubber Toy: Part 2

All characters in this story are consenting fictional adults (21+) with consent throughout the story. This is fictional content intended for adults only.

You can access all my stories here: https://www.patreon.com/c/gayeroticafiction

I use the paid version of Grammarly to help with the grammar of this story.

Part 1

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Brian's fingers hovered over the phone screen, the glow illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw as he crafted his response. The basement's shadows seemed to retreat slightly, the air buzzing with that rare spark of anticipation.

He typed deliberately, his words laced with authority yet probing, testing the waters of this potential prize. 'Intriguing. Tell me more about you—age, build, experience in the BDSM scene? Any play in the gay world? Rubber, bondage, chastity—have you dipped into those, or is this fresh territory? Be honest; trust starts with truth. If you're serious, we can discuss meeting.'

He hit send, leaning back against the workbench, his cock stirring in his jeans at the thought of breaking in a novice, molding that untouched submission to his will.

The phone clattered down as he imagined the boy's reply, already planning the first commands.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through Matthew's bedroom curtains, pulling him from a restless sleep filled with fragmented dreams of tight rubber squeezing his skin and a deep voice commanding him to kneel. He stirred under the sheets, his slender body twisting as a familiar ache built between his legs.

His 4-inch cock throbbed hard against his boxers, morning wood demanding attention, the remnants of last night's fantasies fueling a urgent heat. Groggy but aroused, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, heart skipping when he saw the notification: a reply from the dominant. 'Holy shit,' he whispered, propping himself up on pillows as he opened it, reading Brian's questions while his free hand slipped under the waistband.

His fingers wrapped around his stiff shaft, stroking slowly at first, the pre-cum slicking his palm as he absorbed the words. Experience in BDSM? Gay scene? The questions made his pulse race, his balls tightening with each pump.

He'd never done any of it—not the ropes, not the cages, not the full surrender—but the idea gripped him, twisting his gut with equal parts nerves and thrill. He thumbed open the reply box, his breath hitching as he jerked faster, thumb circling the sensitive head of his dick. 'I'm 24, 5'5", slim build. Never been in the BDSM scene at all—it's all new, but your ad really turns me on, makes me want to try rubber, bondage, chastity, giving up control. In the gay scene, I've only fooled around a bit: given hand jobs to a couple guys, sucked cock a few times, but I'm an anal virgin. Never had anything up there. Serious about exploring if you're real.'

He sent it off with a gasp, his hand flying now, hips bucking as the confession spilled out, pushing him closer to the edge. The phone dropped to his chest, and he gripped his cock tighter, stroking furiously until ropes of cum shot across his stomach, his body arching in release, mind swirling with visions of Brian's hands claiming what he'd just offered.

Brian's phone buzzed on the workbench, pulling him from his contemplation of the gear scattered around the basement. He snatched it up, eyes narrowing as he read Matthew's reply—the raw honesty, the admission of virginity, the slim build that screamed perfect for restraint. A low growl escaped his throat, his thick cock hardening fully in his jeans as he pictured that untouched body yielding under his control. He typed back swiftly, his massive fingers tapping with precision, laying out the essentials of the dynamic he craved.

Brian: Good boy for being upfront. Consent and trust are the foundation—everything stops with a safe word, and we'll discuss limits clearly from the start. I've got decades of experience in BDSM and domination, guiding subs into deep surrender. If you're serious about exploring this, prove it: address me as Sir in public, and Master here over messages or when you're with me in private.

He sent it, leaning against the cold wall, hand drifting to squeeze his bulge, imagining the boy's eager response.

Across town, Matthew lay spent but still tingling, his cum cooling on his abs as he wiped it away with a tissue. The phone vibrated again, and he bolted upright, heart pounding. Reading Brian's words, a fresh wave of heat surged through him—decades of experience? The emphasis on consent making it feel secure, yet the promise of guidance into surrender making his spent cock twitch back to life. He shifted on the bed, sheets tangling around his legs, his body flushing with anticipation. Fingers trembling, he replied, the title flowing out naturally, heightening his arousal.

Matthew: Yes, Master. That makes sense—I've never done anything like this, but your experience excites me. Knowing consent and trust come first helps me feel ready to try. I'll call you Sir if we're out in public, Master here and when alone. What's the next step?

Brian's lips curled into a smile, the basement lights glinting off the nearby restraints. The boy's immediate submission, that willing 'Master,' sent a jolt straight to his groin. He palmed his erection through the denim, stroking roughly as he envisioned drawing this novice deeper into his world.

Brian: Wise decision. Next, we cover the basics—your boundaries, health checks, and availability. If it aligns, we will meet. We'll start slow, building that trust. But show your commitment: ask for it directly.

Matthew's breath came in short gasps, his hand dipping back down to grip his re-hardening shaft, stroking languidly as he read. The call to commit made his balls tighten, pre-cum slicking his fingers. He pumped his fist slowly, hips lifting off the mattress, immersed in the thrill of yielding control.

Matthew: Please, Master, I want to commit. No firm boundaries yet—I'm open to your lead. Healthy and tested clean. Free most evenings. Tell me how we'll build from there... it has me so worked up.

Brian chuckled darkly, unzipping his jeans to free his thick, veined cock, wrapping his calloused hand around it and jerking in time with his typing. The kid was already leaning in, his vulnerability like fuel to the fire.

Brian: That's the spirit. We'll build with clear communication—sessions planned, aftercare included, always checking in. I'll teach you the ropes of submission, owning every moment. Does that pull you in deeper?

Matthew moaned aloud, his strokes turning frantic, cock throbbing in his grip as the structured path unfolded in his mind—guidance firm, trust absolute, his body arching toward release. He edged closer, toes curling.

Matthew: God, Master, yes—it pulls me right in. Never been led like this, but I need you to show me. When can we start?

Brian thrust into his fist, grunting as he neared the edge, the connection locking into place with each exchange.

Brian: Hungry little sub. Tomorrow. Be ready to listen. Remember—Master takes the reins now.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through Matthew's curtains, stirring him awake with a mix of nerves and excitement churning in his gut. His cock stirred under the sheets, half-hard from dreams of firm hands guiding him, but he pushed it aside, swinging his legs over the bed's edge.

He padded to the bathroom, the cool tile biting at his bare feet, and twisted the shower knob. Steam rose as hot water cascaded down, soaking his slim frame. He squeezed a generous dollop of hair removal cream into his palm, the scent sharp and chemical, and lathered it over his smooth chest, down his flat stomach, across his sparse pubes, and along his thighs.

Even though his body hair was minimal—soft fuzz on his legs, a light trail leading to his groin—he wanted every inch pristine, exposed, ready for inspection.

He worked the cream into his armpits, then turned, bending slightly to spread it over his balls and the cleft of his ass, fingers grazing his tight hole, sending a shiver up his spine.

He rinsed after the recommended wait, the water sluicing away the residue, leaving his skin tingling and utterly bare.

Stepping out, he grabbed a towel and patted his body dry, starting from his shoulders, down his lean arms, across his hairless chest where his nipples pebbled in the air. He toweled his abs, then his hips, finally bending to dry his legs and feet.

Catching his reflection in the fogged mirror, he wiped it clear and turned sideways, hands cupping his cheeks to spread them slightly. His perky ass flexed under his touch—round, firm, untouched, the smooth skin begging for a slap or a squeeze. He ran a finger along the crack, teasing his pucker, his cock twitching at the vulnerability, pre-cum beading at the tip. 'Master will like this,' he thought, a flush creeping up his neck.

Satisfied, he dressed with care. First, a crisp white undershirt hugged his slender torso, the fabric soft against his depilated skin. Over it, he buttoned a fitted pink shirt, the color popping against his fair complexion, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Salmon trousers followed, slim-cut to accentuate his narrow hips and the subtle curve of his ass, the material whispering as he tucked in the shirt. He slipped on loafers, checked his hair in the mirror—neatly combed, a touch of gel for hold—and spritzed cologne, light and fresh. Heart racing, he grabbed his keys and headed out, the drive to the quiet pub a blur of anticipation, his palms sweaty on the wheel.

The pub sat on a sleepy street corner, its wooden sign creaking faintly in the breeze, windows tinted to keep the afternoon light dim inside. Matthew pushed through the door, the scent of aged oak and faint hops greeting him. It was nearly empty—a couple of locals nursing pints at the bar, soft chatter humming low. His eyes scanned the room, pulse thundering in his ears, searching for the man who'd claimed the title of Master in his messages.

Brian pulled his sleek black SUV into the pub's gravel lot, the engine's low rumble cutting off as he killed the ignition. At 6'4" and built like a wall of solid muscle from years of disciplined training, he moved with the unhurried confidence of a man who knew his power.

He adjusted the white top clinging to his broad chest, the fabric stretching taut over his pecs and shoulders, hinting at the ridges of abs beneath. Black leather trousers hugged his thick thighs and the heavy bulge of his cock, the material creaking softly as he strode toward the entrance, boots thudding against the ground.

Pushing the door open, the dim interior enveloped him, the faint murmur of voices and clink of glasses a familiar backdrop. His sharp blue eyes swept the room, locking immediately on the petite figure huddled in the corner booth—Matthew, unmistakable with his slim build, the pink shirt and salmon trousers accentuating his slender frame. The young man's cheeks burned red, his gaze darting nervously before flicking up to meet Brian's, wide with a mix of fear and hunger.

Brian's lips curved into a smile, his pulse quickening at the sight of such raw vulnerability. He crossed the worn wooden floor in long, purposeful strides, the leather of his pants whispering with each step, drawing a few idle glances from the sparse patrons.

Towering over the table, he extended his large, calloused hand, veins bulging along the forearm, fingers thick and strong from gripping ropes and cuffs in darker playrooms.

"Matthew," Brian said, his voice deep and commanding, laced with approval. "Good boy for showing up."

Matthew's small hand trembled slightly as he placed it in Brian's grasp, the contrast stark—his skin so soft and delicate, like warm silk, fingers slender and uncalloused, fitting perfectly into the dominant's firm hold. Brian squeezed just enough to assert control, feeling the subtle quiver in Matthew's palm, the heat radiating from his flushed skin.

He held the shake a beat longer than necessary, thumb brushing the back of Matthew's wrist, testing the sub's reaction—the way his breath hitched, eyes dropping submissively to the table.

Releasing him, Brian slid into the booth opposite, his massive frame making the seat creak. He leaned forward, elbows on the scarred tabletop, studying Matthew's face, the nervous bite of his lower lip, the way his chest rose and fell a little too quickly under that fitted shirt.

"You look even better in person. Relax. We're just talking for now. Call me Sir here." His gaze dipped briefly to the sub's lap, imagining the smooth skin hidden beneath those trousers, the perky ass he'd soon claim.

Brian settled deeper into the booth, his thick thighs spreading wide under the table, the leather pants straining against the growing firmness of his cock as he locked eyes with Matthew.

The young man's pupils were dilated, his slender fingers twisting the edge of his napkin, body rigid with barely contained excitement. Brian could almost smell the arousal wafting from him, that fresh, needy scent of a sub on the edge.

"So," Brian began, his voice a low rumble that cut through the pub's quiet hum, leaning in closer so his broad shoulders blocked the dim light. "I've been clear in my ad, but let's lay it out plain. I'm seeking a submissive who craves total surrender. Bondage that locks you down tight—ropes biting into your skin, cuffs chaining you to my will, maybe even a full rubber encasement that turns you into my helpless gimp, every inch sealed away except what I choose to expose."

Matthew shifted in his seat, his salmon trousers tenting obviously at the crotch, his cock throbbing hard against the fabric, leaking a damp spot he hoped the table hid. He nodded quickly, cheeks flushing deeper crimson, gaze fixed on Brian's massive arms flexing as he gestured, the white top pulling tight over his rippling chest.

The words hit him like sparks, igniting his untouched hole with phantom twitches, imagining himself bound and sheathed in slick latex for this towering man.

Brian's eyes flicked down to the bulge, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips as he continued, voice dropping even lower. "Full control means you hand over everything—your body, your pleasure, your obedience. Chastity to keep that eager cock of yours caged and denied until I say otherwise, training you to beg for release. You'll kneel, crawl, serve without question, taking my cock wherever I want to put it, learning to worship every command. It's intense, boy. Demands trust, pushes limits. But if you're in, I'll mold you into the perfect sub."

Matthew swallowed hard, his rock-hard dick pulsing with each vivid image Brian painted, ass clenching involuntarily as he pictured himself locked in that titanium cage, rubber hood muffling his moans while Brian's thick shaft stretched him open.

He nodded again, more vigorously, whispering, "Yes, Sir," his voice breathy and strained, body leaning forward unconsciously, drawn to the dominant's heat and authority like a moth to flame.

Brian's gaze held Matthew's, intense and unyielding, as the air between them thickened with unspoken promises. He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, watching the younger man's chest rise and fall rapidly, his slim frame trembling with anticipation.

'That's the life I'm offering, boy,' Brian said, his tone firm yet inviting, a hand resting casually on the table, fingers drumming lightly. 'But it starts with a choice. Do you want to proceed? To step into this with me?'

Matthew's heart hammered in his chest, his cock straining painfully against his trousers, the tip slick with pre-cum that soaked through the fabric. The dominant's words echoed in his mind, painting pictures of restraint and surrender that made his hole twitch with need. He nodded eagerly, unable to form words at first, then managed a breathless, 'Yes, Sir. I want to.'

A low chuckle rumbled from Brian's throat, approval flashing in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he reached into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, pulling out a sleek black box about the size of a jewelry case. He set it down between them with deliberate slowness, flipping the lid open to reveal the contents: a gleaming titanium chastity cage, its curved bars polished to a mirror shine, connected to a sturdy ring that promised unyielding confinement. Tiny sensors dotted the interior, and a subtle lock mechanism gleamed at the base, hinting at its high-tech design.

Matthew's eyes widened, his breath catching as he stared at the device. He'd never seen anything like it—sleek, intimidating, and utterly erotic in its purpose. His rock-hard dick throbbed visibly under the table, imagining the cold metal encasing him, denying him touch while Brian held the key.

'Would you like to proceed, boy?' Brian asked, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper, leaning forward so his muscular frame loomed larger. 'This is your first step. The cage that will mark you as mine.'

Matthew gulped audibly, his face burning with a deep blush that spread down his neck, his slender hands clenching into fists to steady himself. The arousal was overwhelming, his ass clenching as he nodded again, more firmly this time, whispering, 'Yes, Sir. Please.'

Brian closed the box with a soft click, sliding it across the table into Matthew's trembling grasp. 'Take it home. Put it on when you're alone. The moment it locks, I'll know—it's synced to my app, tracking every heartbeat, every futile twitch. If you wear it, you're officially agreeing to become my submissive. Handing over control, body and soul.'

He stood then, towering over the booth, his broad shoulders casting a shadow as he adjusted his leather pants, the outline of his own thickening cock evident. 'It's up to you to consent to this, boy. Think on it.' With that, he turned and strode out of the pub, leaving a trail of commanding presence in his wake.

Matthew sat frozen for a moment, the box warm in his hands from the brief contact, his erection pulsing with unmet need. He paid the bill in a daze, the weight of the decision pressing on him as he hurried home, the streets blurring past.

In his quiet bedroom, he placed the open box on the bed, the chastity cage glinting under the soft lamp light.

He sat beside it, fingers tracing the smooth titanium bars, marveling at the intricate design—the way the ring would grip his base, the cage curving just right to contain his shaft without mercy, the embedded sensors that would betray his every arousal to Brian. A small remote lock icon blinked faintly on the side, promising inescapable security. His cock ached as he examined it, pre-cum dripping freely now, his mind racing with the finality of the act. He knew what he wanted, the pull toward submission too strong to ignore, his body already yielding in anticipation.