Iron

“Almost like the good times before you talked me into giving you a lifetime lease on my body. In those old days, you’d often put me into make – believe bondage. Great fun it was, but somehow fake and frivolous – even silly. Both of us hungered for the real thing. We got it now, by god. Every time I wake during the night, I feel the aggravating weight on my neck, and know where I am, and who I am. You got my ass for good, buddy.”

From: The Collar by Lars
Read it at: Metalbondnyc.com

I read this story weeks ago after reading the above quote in boys diary. I have tried to make his bondage real but somehow or another, no matter how long, how painful or secure, it seemed fake and frivolous. After all, we referred to it as play. I don't know if his limited speech in the last few weeks is truly because of hypnotic suggestion or a real desire to give his self to me without conversation or commentary. I'd like to think it is a combination of the two.

_________________________

The boy slept well last night and serviced me with perfection when we woke. I fucked him twice. One of the times he raised my hands to his neck and strangled him as I came into his gut. His cock and balls were swollen and purple from being edged constantly. I told him to cum. It took a lot of rubbing to get him to explode. He rolled his eyes back in his head as if he was overdosing on some powerful drug. He lay gasping and clutching my forearms for several minutes after he came.

We showered together and then I dressed for breakfast. Boy attended naked as required. We sat on the patio by the pool sipping our second cup of coffee. He got out of hid chair and sat on the patio between my legs and threw his head back to look into my eyes. He smiled.

I put the boy in a leather mail sack and locked it to make it escape proof. I "tossed" him in the back of his pick-up and drove him to a friends studio. I fastened to rail in the back with a chain so he wouldn't role and tumble around and get hurt. It was a good hour drive, part of it on rough private road.

Our friend is a blacksmith and artist who makes beautiful fence gate, hand rail an other ornamental architectural art for homes and offices. I went into his studio to let him know I had the boy with me.
We talked about the boy and the head trip he was going on and just how we wanted to play him. We returned to the stand near the truck bed and started our play so that he was sure to hear it.

"Rich, I can't thank you enough for taking him off my hands. I have to fly to London for a few weeks and all the guys are gone. I can't leave the fucker alone and I can't take him with looking a beat up like this".

"Ian, it no problem. I'll chain him up in the shed out back and maybe work him over when I have the time. Let's get him out of there and fixed up".

Richard carried him into the studio near his forge. He dumped the boy out onto the concrete floor.
The whole Idea is to get him restrained in chains and leave him alone with very little contact.
Rich custom made a set of six point irons for the boy.

The entire rig was permanently arranged to cramp the boy. Rich threw large rivets into a pan in the forge Then lifted the boy onto a worn wooden table with a heavy iron pounding block held in one end. He arranged the restraints on the table along the boys body length. I removed his choking collar and gave rich free rein of the boy. Rich fit the heavy round stock collar around the boys head. He removed the collar then coved boys head with a heavy insulated fire proof bad. He place the collar on boys neck and  put the two wings that formed the closure the held in in place on his striking block. He inserted a red hot rivet into the locking holed and struck it with a heavy hammer until the rivet flattened out. The collar became a permanent fixture on the boys body. He continued working top to bottom until the boy was permanently bound in iron and chains.

I read the above quote to the boy. He cried. I turned and left in his truck. Leaving the boy in Rich's devious clutch's,