#bdsm stoires

Edited by and dedicated to a very fun Wild Dog

Earlier that month, your handler announced his plans for an out-of-state business trip that would result in him being away for the entire week. While you were dismayed by the disruption in physically serving him, he made it up to you by scheduling a proper send-off Friday evening through the end of Sunday.

After a long weekend serving him in every way imaginable, you reluctantly grabbed your work clothes, the leftover stir fry from yesterday’s dinner, and were properly dismissed by your handler. With his blessing and curious grin, you head back home to do laundry and prepare for another week at the office.

You got home late Sunday night and blurrily shower away the sweat, grime, and cum off your body. After assessing your wardrobe, you decided to push off doing the laundry for another night before passing out on your bed.

The next day, your phone’s alarm buzzed you awake and despite your sore body, you managed to groggily get out of bed, get dressed, grab your things, and drive yourself to work.

Once at your desk, you booted up your computer, clocked in, and then started to head over to the kitchenette to pour yourself a cup of fresh coffee. With coffee in hand, you then moved on to check your email from the weekend.

Just before you started on your work for the day, your phone lit up with the notification icon as a deep tone sounded. It was the special tone that was reserved for only when your handler texts you. Instinctively you reached for your phone to open it.

The message was a simple line of text, “Forgot something?”

It was followed by an attached photo of his hand holding your credit card against the backdrop of the airport lobby. 

Your heart jumped into your throat as you hastily reached into your pocket to pull out your wallet. Whipping the leather wallet open, it was revealed that one of the wallet’s slots was empty.

You began to think back to the weekend’s session. The only time you left his house was Saturday night when your handler chose a take-out restaurant for dinner. While you were cleaning up, he phoned in an order and once you were done drying off he ordered you to drive him over. Once at the parking lot, you instinctively retrieved the card from your wallet and offered to pay just before he went inside for the pickup.

You racked your mind after that moment. Between the drive back and everything you did for him afterward, you couldn’t remember asking for your card back nor your handler bringing it up after dinner.

You closed your eyes and silently cursed yourself for not once thinking about your card back for the rest of the weekend. Just as your mind was about to run free with the potential implications, your phone let out another deep chime. Opening your eyes, you hesitantly moved your hand to the phone, and unlocked it to see what the new message was.

“Thanks for the caffeinated pick-me-up!~” followed by a few taunting emojis. 

The attached picture was your handler, holding your card in front of the ceramic mug filled with a latte, topped with whipped cream. 

Your heart rate raced again at the image and you immediately closed out of the message to boot up your mobile banking app. After punching in your bank pin and password, and waiting an agonizingly long load time you saw it. Sure enough under ‘pending transactions’ it listed a recent purchase of an eight dollar coffee purchased at the same company that was on the mug in the photo

‘Fuck’ you thought to yourself as you stared at the expected debt total. You were frugal and financially smart enough that you always could use your credit card without running into any problems. You then pondered the small coffee purchase and began debating if you should take it out of your current savings or wait to pay it back after your next paycheck. As you were weighing the options of where you were going to move the money, your train of thought was derailed by another deep chime.

You moved your thumb across the screen to click the newest notification, as your phone cycled back to the texting app, with your handler’s most recent message already loaded.

“Their coffee was so good, that I just had to get myself another cup to go!” followed by a series of kissy faces and a picture of a paper coffee cup outside of the shop.

You did not even need to double back to your bank account to know that your card paid for it. At that moment, the only thing you could do was type out your reply.

“I’m glad that I could buy you your coffee, sir. Please enjoy it.”

Another chime rang immediately after you sent your message, “Oh I will.”

You took another deep steadying breath before turning your phone’s screen off and going back to work.  As you began, you took some solace in your office’s current promotion of bonuses, to be handed out based on going above the quota for the day. With that, you started to do some quick mental math about how much extra work you need to take on to make up for this costly mistake. 

From then on you carried out your job, diligently working, pushing your sales skills to the limit, to go beyond expected goals for that potential weekly commission bonus. You stayed committed to working through this entire morning until another chime interrupted your focus as the phone lit up again. 

Your eyes swiveled to the notification dot as you moved your hand away from your work phone towards your personal cell. A quick unlocked sequence revealed a picture of a thick and juicy burger resting next to some steak fries on a plate, next to a tall glass of beer.

Propped up perfectly against the base of the glass was your credit card with the caption, “The business lunch they sent us was just boring cold cuts, this was much more appropriate.”

The food looked warm, delicious, and expensive. It was just about lunchtime and your mouth was watering at the sight. With a bit of sorrow, you were reminded of the leftover noodles that were in the office fridge. Reluctantly you sent a reply to your handler, wishing him the best while you stood up and made your way to the office kitchen to reheat your own meal.

As you ate, you did the rough mental math of the cups of coffee and estimated the cost of the burger. You ultimately decided that it would be best to skip the last ten minutes of your lunch break to get a jump start back on hitting your work quota.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. There were no taunting texts from your handler or any work-related meetings which left you plenty of time to stay focused on your efficiency. When it was about time to pack up and head out, a small thought emerged from your stomach. A small niggling thought that was trying to justify all your hard work today with a quick bite to eat on the way home. If on cue, your phone let out another deep chime and you were greeted with a picture of your credit card being used as a coaster to a martini glass which quickly squelched your stomach’s plans as you resigned to fixing a meal at home.

The next day was more of the same, with your handler sending you a good morning text in the form of a picture of a toasted bagel with cream cheese and lox. The next text came a few hours after that, “Made some changes to your card, no need to thank me pig but I’ll gladly accept it~”

It was just another picture of your credit card on a desk, but now it had the word “FORFEIT” in big black lettering with a layer of clear tape applied on top to preserve it. Your name was scribbled out and the words, “Finsub’s Piggy Bank” were written just above it.

You just stared at it, gobsmacked, as all your thoughts of the day were sandblasted away. Your eyes glued to your phone as you reread the message over and over again.

Your phone chimed again as the next message that appeared was a photo of your handler’s arm outstretched, holding your modified credit card on a sidewalk of bustling people in broad daylight.

Your heart rate skyrocketed at the implications of anyone near your handler seeing your card on their way to work. Then pondering that even more, you quickly looked up from your phone and scanned the office to ensure that none of your co-workers could have possibly seen what you were staring at on your screen.

You then went back to your phone and sent a rushed, ‘Thank you Sir’ before turning off the screen, flipping your phone over, to resume work.

A cycle soon emerged during the rest of the week. You got up, got dressed, went to work, and then throughout the day you would receive text after text from your handler with pictures of breakfasts, snacks, and other extraneous purchases. Each picture included your vandalized credit card, clearly in view.  With each text came the promise of debt under your name and it motivated you, out of necessity, to work hard and push beyond your daily quota.

Just at the end of each day, when it looked like you were going to pull ahead of the debt, or at least stay in the black, your dom would always hit you with one last text of the night. This caused you to work even harder the next morning while brainstorming what you could do when your handler returned on Saturday morning to reclaim your credit card. You were working so well in fact that your manager took notice and praised you for the renewed zest in your output. 

Finally, Friday evening arrived and you opened up your banking app to verify that your paycheck and bonus went through while assessing the damage caused by your handler’s spending spree. You slipped your phone into your pocket and packed up for the week. It was then you received one additional deep chime. Taking a steady deep breath you reached down and pulled out your phone.

A picture appeared of your handler decked out head to toe. He had on a new leather harness, vest, pants, and boots and brandished a finely crafted deerskin flogger. The picture’s caption read, “Found out about this local leather shop on my last day here. I just love to support small businesses while splurging on a new outfit” with additional kissy faces. 

‘Fuck, there goes that plan out the window’ you whinged as you rolled your head back in dismay. But another part of you grew aroused at the thought of seeing your handler’s new gear in person and the knowledge of who would feel that flogger soon enough.

Then another chime tolled from your phone with another text from him. “I got something for you too.”

The photo finished loading to show your owner’s hand holding up an elaborate rubber pig hood with a built-in gag and an attached locking collar.

In that moment of horny submissive defeat, all you could do was smirk and typed out your reply,

“Oink.”

***
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This story topic was voted on by the wonderful Avid Readers on my Patreon! For April’s poll the winning story prompt was “Forced Exercise Routines” 

Your handler noticed that you have been putting on more and more pudge. He let it slide until it got to the point where he had to cancel his Night in Latex party at the last minute because the zipper on your -once fitted- catsuit could no longer run up your back.

He was fuming as he was forced to make the cancellation calls to all of the friends who were looking forward to this for the past week. You were ordered to stand there next to him as he called each and everyone, completely naked, still covered in the clear thin lube. Your handler did not even hide the fact that the reason for the cancellation was squarely because of you and your pudgy body. You were beyond embarrassed as your handler kept his cold eyes fixed right at you throughout every phone call.

This was the last straw.

He never really cared or bothered about what you did with your body outside the club or during services you provided to him. But your one too many late night snacks and donuts runs was causing a problem. While angry at you, your handler took the failure on himself and decided that this needed an intervention that only he could provide.

Once he was done with the cancellations he went through his and your pantries and threw out all the junk food and sugary drinks. After that he ordered you to hand over your phone and uninstalled all of your delivery and membership rewards apps then seized your credit and debit cards.

He then spent the rest of the night at the computer, researching diet and health information. You were ordered to go to bed early and prepare for an even earlier morning. 

At 4:45 in the morning you were greeted to the frightening sound of a whistle shrieking. You woke up with a jolt as you saw your handler standing at the end of your bed, in running attire and with a sliver gym whistle dangling from his lips. You were greeted with a list of new demands that your handler drafted up that previous night.

He laid out your new daily regiment: You are to be awake by five AM every morning, by your own alarm, and be ordered to go for a 1 mile jog. You were given this one warning, that if you slept through your early bird alarm. If you failed that, your handler would be more than happy to tuck you in the next night with an electro shock system hooked up to your junk.

Sitting there in disbelief you almost didn’t believe your ears nor could comprehend what your handler was seriously asking you to do. He blew his whistle again and in a drill sergeant voice yelled, “I WASN’T ASKING YOU TO CONSIDER THIS, I AM ORDERING YOU TO JOG, so GET to IT!”

That got you jumping out of the bed and racing to get your old workout clothes on. Your handler kept his drill sergeant voice up until you laced up your sneakers and was out of the door.

A mile jog was excruciating, this was the first time in a long time that you did cardio and your out of shape body protested the jog every step of the way as your handler forced you to keep up the pace as he ran with you down a half mile stretch of road and back.

You came back through the front door panting and wheezing. Your handler followed behind you slapping your ass as he told you that he suspended your normal blowjob expectations and relieved you to go shower up and collect yourself for work. 

Once you were dressed your handler stood over you as you prepared yours and his health conscience packed lunch with plenty of barking orders to include different veggies and fruit types for a ‘more balanced meal’. All of your sodas were thrown away the night before, which left you to replace your normal two cans with either flavored seltzer water, unsweetened iced tea or water.

Every day you were expected to hit 15k steps a day on your smartwatch app. That lofty goal pressured you to walk all the way to the other side of the building for every bathroom break, which you covered up by going out of your way to drink and refill your and refilling your sports bottle every chance you could get. 

After work you were then expected to report directly  to your handler at the gym he goes to frequently. He greeted you with a change of workout clothes, along with your newly minted membership card. Your handler walked you in and you met a man who was right there to personally greet the two of you. He was tall, had beach blonde surfer hair and was dressed in light athletic clothes. He was muscular with a build of a gym rat that focused on both cardio and weight lifting. On his defined pecs you saw a golden name tag that states he was Kyle and he was a ‘specialized trainer’.

Your handler greeted him like an old acquaintance and introduced you to him with a, “…and here’s the project I was telling you about.” Kyle imminently started walking around you, exchanging notes with your handler about your body and taking mental notes for himself. As you felt like a thing of livestock, currently in the process of being appraised, you straightened your back and tried to suck in that small gut that you had as Kyle shot back with a, “Don’t do that, we already know why you are here.’ Embarrassed you exhaled and stood as still as possible until they were done. Where you then were ordered to go to the lockers, change and meet them in the training room.

Once you changed you met up with your new gym trainer and between him and your handler they were given a ‘custom made’ exercise routine. Starting with more jogging, then going to weights and crunches then back to cardio with a round on the bicycles.

Kyle was your coach and your handler was right there next to you, going through the same exercise as you, to be the ideal model for how to perform and to set the pace and reps that you were expected to complete. Your muscles quickly started to burn as you were ordered to push to go through the fire and keep up with your handler, who was barely breaking a sweat.

After the workout, you were dismissed by Kyle and set to the showers to cool off. Your bones felt like they were made of lead as you shambled to the locker room. After weakly shambling into the showers you were greeted to the sight of a locker room full of other guy rats, all lined up with nothing to hide their toned, naked body’s except for their sweat soaked towels that barely hide their erections.

Your body was aching and burning but your handler was right behind you and you knew that he had his dominate smirk on his face as you realized that your workout that night was far from done.

Taking in a deep breath you slowly began to strip and shambled over to the closest bench, got onto your back, lifted your legs up once again and let out an exhausted groan to encourage the mischief of gym rats to start their own mischief with you.

They all descended on you, some were looking for a quick fuck but others used this time to ridicule you as they called you names, jiggled your chubbiness and made you do additional crunches to reach the cocks you were suppose to suck and preform squats onto their dicks.

Once you satisfied all of them, and they left you covered in their sweaty towels and jocks your body was so spent you needed your handler to hoist you up and not only walk you to the showers but assist in the cleaning up as well.

When you arrived back to your handler’s place you immediately collapsed on the bed and slept soundly, until five am the next morning where you were expected to repeat the process all over again. 

The first few weeks were terrible and exhausting. True to his word, your handler pushed you to your limit, every day and he never relaxed his expectations for you. You were running on fumes towards the end of the first week, and come Thursday your handler stood by his gums and wouldn’t listen to your actual pleas for a purchase of a can of your favorite heavy duty energy drink. “Too much sugar” he said,and offered you a large cup of Coffee with an extra shot of espresso, no cream and no sugar. Just a paper cup of fowl and bitter swill, which you drank out of desperation more than anything else.

You lost your free time,you lost your favorite foods and you had to do all of this on top of your job and your assigned submissive duties to your handler.

You missed your T.V show binges late at night, your sodas and your occasional beers all were cut by demand of your handler and it was miserable. Cheat day was the worst since your handler would torment you when he decreed that you didn’t deserve a cheat day. He would order you to sit on the far end of the table and watch him as ordered and eat all of your favorite fast food meals in front of you.

Sure enough your body slowly adjusted from the constant gym trips and slowly started to keep up with regiment. Your body was getting slimmer, after a month you were back to your initial weight of your sizing of that first rubber suit. But your handler kept going strong with your gym routines. And you kept at it and you started slimming more and more until muscled started to show through and even from up.

Soon you developed past the physic that you once could have had, and into a body that you were once envious to have as the last of your pudge on your stomach melting away. Your body became more toned, with more definition on your arms and legs, you finally got a flatter stomach. You only just realized that your handler purposefully gave you extra glutes and squat routines to pump out shape your ass. it looked so good you were almost considering calling it a bubble butt.

Your cravings for junk food also started to fade, the allure of the fast food chains was still there but the agony of driving past them lessened by every week, slowly but surely. The most impressive thing was that your wardrobe needed to be changed out. Your clothes began to feel more baggy and you actually had to bump down to the next notch on your belt just to keep your pants up.

As an extra bit of achievement your once out grown latex suit started to become ill fitting, in the other way. The entire thing started to feel too loose for your handler’s liking, so he decided to buy you a brand new one, per your new measurements.

After the measurements and sending the information away to a custom made latex suiter, your package arrived at your handler’s palace on a Saturday evening, on your day of rest. The new outfit fit better than perfect, you actually were surprised that you needed additional lube to slide your toned arms, legs and ass into the suit, but with enough lube you got them all in. It was shiny,  tight all over and was just thin enough to show some of your muscle definition through the latex skin. 

Looking at your hard earned body shining through the new suit gave your whole body a rush and your cock to twitch with excitement. Your handler just stood to the side, admiring you as you admired yourself in the full sized bedroom mirror. After ten minutes he cleared his throat and told you he had an additional surprise for you. You were instructed to grab your shoes and meet him at the car.

With the confidence on par with one of the gym rats that you would serve after workouts, you grabbed your rubber boots and strutted out the front door, across the front lawn without an ounce of shame or self conscience in your stride.

You slid into your seat as your handler revved the engine to life and pulled out of the driveway and towards the spot you have been visiting for the majority of your days. The gym.

You knew that normally the gym would be closed at this time of day but looking at the gym  there were more than a half dozen cars in the parking lot and a few lights were on past the main entrance. As you walked up to the gym your handler was telling you about how not only he was impressed with your progress but how other people at the club and gym have been taking notice of your progress under the eyes of your handler and Kyle. As you made your way to the locker room your handler finished with the “You have been such a success story that other doms have asked to sign up with their sub…”

The locker door opened up to a crowded room of various dorms that you have recognized at the club, all standing and leaning against the walls. In the circle you saw Kyle standing next to a line of half naked subs, all on their hands and knees. The subs ranged from all shapes and sizes, some were scrawny and meek, while others ranged from chubby to tubby and even downright fat ass. 

“…and here’s our very own success story!” said Kyle. Every pair of eyes were on you with amazement, all marveling at your new body and new shiny new suit. You felt your handler give you a nudge forward as Kyle kept talking about his and your handler’s success over you.

You stood there in the middle of the circle for an awkward moment before your brain caught up with you and suggested that you should be doing some poses as Kyle was listing off your strict diet and exercise workout session. You struck a pose that highlighted the body part that Kyle talked about as you were greeted to head nods and the sounds of quiet approval from the crowd.

When Kyle was done talking he turned to you and announced that he and your handler was going to expand the program, and take in these dom’s sub and whip them into shape. And you were going to be the lead sub, to tell them how to do it and to show them that this is not only possible but that it does yield results. To celebrate the growth of the program, he offered you a choice of who to fuck first, since “a fit body is nothing without demonstration”

After taking a second to process what was happening you directed your gaze to all of the candidates, they were just as stunned as you. Trying to maintain composure you squared your shoulder, set your jaw and pointed at one of the chubbier subs. In a commanding voice you gave him the order to stand up, turn around and bend over. After a stunned moment of the sub looked over your shoulder at his own dom and then compiled without having to be said twice.

You reached down and unzipped your groin, and unleashed your pressed cock, already rock hard and ready to go. It was already lubed from getting into your suit but your handler wordlessly tossed you a little clear bottle of additional lube. Slathering in on your erect cock, you barely gave the sub’s rear a passing thought as you gave him quick fingering before ramped your cock in with a powerful thrust.

With the first thrust you went in deep as it was greeted with a startled gasp from the chubby as you felt him tense up around you. It felt amazing.

Then you started plowing away, it took a minute of awkward false starts before you fell into a rhythm soon after you realized that what you needed to do was very similar to one of the workouts that your handler insists that you perfected. Once you had the epiphany that this would just be like another exercise you fell into that workout mindset, adjusting your stance to give this sub full range of thrusts while still pacing yourself with the speed.

You felt the familiar burn of your body and pushed past it as you kept hip thrusting into the sub at the same rhythm that you practiced a hundred times before. The chubby sub was gasping between breath, obviously overwhelmed by what you were doing to him but you were nowhere near done close to being done.

Pushing aside the fantastic sensation that is engulfing your dick you just focused on your hip thrust’s pace and form. You wanted to make sure all the other doms in the locker room saw what you could do, what you could do thanks to Kyle and your handler’s workout plan. So you kept going, hip thrust over and over again as you let out a series of increasingly aggressive grunts as the chubby sub was almost begging for a break. Yet you kept going.

Once the fire in your hips became too much you had to finally acknowledge your overstimulated dick that was itching to blow since you started. You gave one final grunt as you pushed the sub against the wall and shoved your cock the farthest you could his plump little ass and deposited your load. At this point was completely unresponsive, lost in his own pleasure save for one final hoarse gasp in response to your climax. The chubby sub collapsed to the ground, covered in his own sweat and well spent.

You just stood there, over him, with smudged sweat marks of the sub’s ass right on your hips. Then all around came the sounds of applause erupted from the room, rooting and cheering your physical accomplishment, then came the doms shouting over each other to confirm their sub’s spot in Kyle’s program. 

Looking through them all, you saw your handler, still giving you his slow clap and an approving nod.

***
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