By VANS fag
Author’s Note: The BOSS has controlled, micro-managed, chastized, tattooed and humiliated VANS fag since August 2008 in a TPE (total power exchange) relationship. VANS fag is an alpha male publically but a permanently chastised dildofag in the playroom and the kink world.
Friday night is date night in our house. It’s been a tradition for a long time now.
Each week is a bit different. Sometimes it’s dinner at home and a movie in front of the TV. Sometimes it’s dinner out and then the Black Eagle. Usually it ends in some intense sex but I never know in advance because that’s the BOSS’s decision.
Anyway, that’s Friday night for the BOSS. For me, date night is almost always the same. I spend date night in the fag storage unit until sometime Saturday morning, depending on when the BOSS wakes up and feels like seeing me. I think on the floor plans it was called a linen closet, but the BOSS had other things to store than brooms and linens.
So the BOSS knew immediately this linen closet would be the perfect fag storage unit, but it took time, trial and error to perfect the new interior configuration. The floor was just 24 inches square and the door couldn’t be opened from inside, so the basics for fag storage were already there from the beginning. The first step was to remove all the shelving. With just a few minutes’ work the fag storage unit was ready for its first use. That evening I had my first “date”.
The BOSS invited two of our kink friends over to see the new place. We were giving them a tour and the BOSS opened the door to the former linen closet and said, “This is my new fag storage unit. Let me demonstrate.” He motioned for me to get into the closet and then closed the door. It was dark but I could still see a crack of light under the door. (This would change in future modifications to the FSU.) I could still hear and mostly understand what the BOSS and his two friends were saying, although something was said in a lowered voice that I couldn’t understand, followed by laughter from all three. I stood in the middle of the space, expecting the door to reopen. Instead their voices drifted off as they moved to another area of the house.
Now, after years of date night, I know not to look at the door expectantly, when I can see at all. But that night I kept waiting for the BOSS’s voice to return and for the door to open so I could have drinks and dinner with our friends. I’m not sure how long it was before I slumped to the floor, my back to the wall and my knees pulled up to my chest. That was the only other possible position besides standing upright. So I alternated. I felt the familiar combination of pissed off and incredibly horned by my predicament and the BOSS who put me here. I imagined him with our friends in the dining room eating the meal I had prepared, assuming I would be sharing it. If my dick hadn’t been locked in a chastity device, I would have got hard and wanked off. Instead I stuck my hand down my pants, fondled my balls and tugged a bit at the device. It wasn’t very satisfying and before long I was feeling like I had to piss. And then suddenly I couldn’t think about anything else but the need to piss.
In retrospect, that was the most comfortable date night I ever spent in the FSU. I could move. I could see. I could hear. The only real discomfort was the need to piss. I spent a lot of time looking expectantly at the door and straining to hear things. It took a while to realize I was going to be there indefinitely.
I don’t know exactly how long I waited until I started tapping on the door, lightly at first. Then I waited. Then I tapped a little louder and waited. Then I tapped a lot louder. I started to call out the BOSS’s name. I really had to piss and I was getting desperate. I called his name louder and told him I really needed to piss.
After a few minutes I heard the BOSS’s voice approaching, with our friends, laughing and probably slightly drunk. He told me to stand with my back against the wall and opened the door. “We’ve been having a very interesting discussion about the fag storage unit. Lots of creative ideas, lots of rules and regulations. Of course the first rule for fags in storage is NO TALKING. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded.
“Do you need to piss?”
I nodded again and started to move out of the fag storage unit. The BOSS put his hand firmly against my chest and shoved me back.
“Piss. Right there. In your jeans. Obey. Show our friends what a little piss fag you are.” The look on my face must have told him I didn’t want to piss myself in front of our friends, but “Obey” was a serious word in our relationship. He continued, “I’m not letting you out of the fag storage unit until you piss yourself. You can do it sooner or you can do it later.”
I looked at the BOSS. I looked at our friends. Our friends were giddy and giggling. I hesitated. I closed my eyes and concentrated on letting go. I felt the warm piss start to flow and stain the front of my jeans. It was a huge relief but my face got hot and red. There was enough piss that it filled my right shoe and started to overflow a little onto the floor.
The BOSS looked at our friends and rolled his eyes. “Fags. They’re noisy and they’re messy. I’ll have to fix the fag storage unit to deal with that.” He closed the door and their voices drifted off into the distance. I slumped to the floor and sat in a puddle of my own piss, feeling like an idiot and resenting being locked away in the FSU. My soaked jeans started to get cold. I struggled to find a comfortable position but had to shift every few minutes. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.
Sometime later the BOSS opened the door. My eyes took a few moments to adjust to the light. He was still a bit drunk and our friends were gone. He pulled his dick out of his pants. It was soft but slightly engorged. He motioned me towards him. I struggled to get up to my knees and took the tip of his cock in my mouth. He gently put his hands on my shoulders and released his stream of piss into me. I felt like my own dick would burst the chastity device that constrained it.
When he finished, I looked up at him and started to speak. He gently put a finger to my lips and said, “Rule number one: shut the fuck up, my little piss fag.” I started to get up, expecting to go with him to the bedroom. He firmly pushed me back to me knees. “You need to learn to hate date night in the fag storage unit,” he said with a smile and closed the door again.
Metal would like to thank The BOSS for having VANS fag share this story!
