How I Found a Keyholder Ch. 07

Once they were past me, I got to work, releasing the timelock, and then scrambling under the table to unlock my ankle. I was tempted to just abandon the handcuff, but after hesitating a moment I leaned further to unlock it from around the table leg. In the confined space under the table there was a pissy smell, like a toilet that hadn't been cleaned for awhile.

Then I unlocked my bag and tried to look inconspicuous as I started pulling out clothing. I shimmied back and forth as I tugged my underwear up my legs. Looking down, I realized there was no way I could put my pants on without dragging them through some of the piss.

I looked around me once more. The food court was a little busier now, but there wasn't anyone near this far corner. The employee with the cleaning cart that had been wiping the table was a couple aisles over from me, but blocked from my direct line of sight by the garbage can across the aisle from me.

Fuck it, let's just do this and go. Feeling less brave than I had when I was gallivanting nude around the edge of the menswear department in this mall, I slid out from my seat and stood up, pants in one hand. With a smooth motion, I pulled them on. I'd already stuffed the locks and cuffs in my bag, so I just walked, barefoot, a few tables down the aisle, and then I sat on the edge of a bench at another booth and grabbed my socks from the bag, pulling them on and quickly putting my shoes on as well.

I was disheveled as hell, but I had everything I came with and I was ready to get out of here. As I stood up to head out of the food court, I saw the dude with the blue shirt heading toward me. I was guessing he was as eager to retrieve the cameras and get the hell out of here as I was. I gave him a curt nod as we passed each other.

And then I was just another guy walking through the mall. Feeling pretty shaky and agitated as I realized I still had a full day of work to get through.

7.b: Video #12: The theatre

I was feeling both trepidation and excitement on Monday morning as I scanned the last QR code. This would be the final little "adventure" that Sir was sending me on. I couldn't imagine how he could come up with something more intense that the office trip or the food court.

And then it turned out I wouldn't be finding out right away in any case. "LEAVE WORK AT 8 ON SATURDAY. LEAVE YOUR REGULAR SUPPLIES AT HOME. FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS TO FOLLOW."

So that meant I was feeling a queasy sense of anticipation all week. It also meant I had to sweet-talk my way out of work early again. My supervisor gave me a look that told me I was starting to push my luck, but still let me go. But when I headed out of the office to go to unlock my bike, I still hadn't gotten any other messages. I was standing by my bike, checking my phone once more when a guy walked up to me, wearing one of Sir's collared blue "courier" shirts. He was about my age with wavy sandy hair and a slightly-retro bushy moustache.

He was holding a small cardboard box. "Deliver this to the address on the label," he said. "When you find the QR code there, you'll get further instructions."

Then, to my surprise, he pulled off his shirt and handed it to me. "I'm going to need your shirt to wear home," he said while I was staring at him.

I quickly unbuttoned my work shirt and took it off, giving it to him, as if two dudes exchanging shirts on a sidewalk was a totally normal thing. If I wasn't caught up in my anticipation of what I was launching myself into I would have worried more about whether I was going to get my shirt back.

Once I pulled his shirt over my head, he thrust the box into my hands and put my shirt on. As he started buttoning it, he turned and walked away from me without waiting for an acknowledgement.

As I watched him moving away from me, I could sense something different about my body-space. I sniffed at the air... then I tilted my head down and sniffed at the shirt's armpits. I got a whiff of a different deodorant, and underneath it, a different vague musk smell that sent a twitch straight to my prostate.

I studied the box. It was about a foot square and six inches thick, and was fairly light. The address was for one of the main commercial streets downtown, so it wouldn't be too far from where I was. I tapped the address into my phone to confirm that. The spot pinned on the map was in what I thought of as a low-rent neighborhood, so I googled the address as well, but nothing much came up -- at least no websites for anything there.

Figuring I'd find out soon enough, I hopped on my bike and made my way over there. The block I ended up on was even seedier than I remembered -- empty storefronts proliferated in an area that was being left to run down so the gentrifiers could move in. This was the strip that was once all adult bookshops and peep shows, though I assumed that the internet had put them all out of business.

Turned out my assumption was wrong. Under a dark and unmaintained marquee, the sign at the door of the address I was seeking looked like it hadn't been changed since the 80's, promising peep shows and private video booths. The sort of place I would have been scared to enter up until a couple months ago. Now, I felt a tingle of excitement as I pushed open the door.

The entranceway was nothing to get too excited about, however. A cashier sat in a glass cage that must have been the ticket booth when this place had been an actual theatre, several decades ago.

I stepped up, looking for any sort of information about the place, but besides a handwritten CASH ONLY sign, there wasn't much to guide me.

The man behind the glass appeared to recognize my shirt, but didn't comment directly on it. "It's regular admission for you, y'know. You on your own?" he asked.

"I... um, guess I am?" I said.

He had obviously marked me as a rube and someone probably in over their head. "Okay, look," he said, reciting a spiel he'd probably given hundreds of times. "I don't know what they told you about this place. Ladies get in for free, and men with them get a discount. Solo dudes pay full price. Ten bucks for admission, plus twenty for a roll of quarters. No exceptions."

I didn't really follow what all that meant, but trying to look casual, I pulled out my wallet and slid him two twenty dollar bills. He pulled out a ten and a roll of quarters, setting a key on top of them before pushing them back to me.

"This was left here for you."

As I pocketed all of that, he pressed a button and a door buzzed beside me. I pulled the handle and went in.

That entry reminded me of my visit to the gay bathhouse with Edward, and that experience gave me a bit of a clue as to what was happening here. As I wandered in, pausing to look at a bulletin board, I started to piece together what was happening here. On paper, this place was still operating as the peep show it was in past decades. But in reality it was now more of a low-rent swingers club, a place where people could meet to have sex. From the event notices, I could see it mostly catered to heterosexual couples, especially to those into dogging and cuckolding, but given the gender imbalance of women wanting to have sex in public places, it was clear that it was also a place for closeted men to have sex with each other, or a place where a straight dude could get his cock sucked my another man and not feel too threatened by that.

Compared to the bathhouse, the place was shabby and run down, and a fair bit smaller. There were two main hallways, both lined with doorways into booths. Those booths still had the coin-operated screens in them, which I realized was what the roll of quarters was for, but most of the people here had other things on their minds than watching porn. Some of the doors were closed, with red OCCUPIED flags above the handles. You could hear people having sex in some of them. I walked past a few booths with open doors -- in one a woman was bent over, getting fucked. But in most of them, guys (some jerking off) were clearly waiting for someone to join them.

Suddenly a public address system crackled to life, echoing through the space. "Lay-deez and gentlemen, just a reminder that our next feature video, Sperm Swap, will be starting in Screening Room A in five minutes."

Keeping an eye out for the QR code that would tell me what I was doing here, I poked my head into an unoccupied booth. Or, almost unoccupied. There was a glory hole in one of the walls with a proudly-erect cock sticking out through it, beckoning someone to drop to their knees and worship it. Licking my lips, I took half a step toward it before remembering I was here on a mission, and with a pang of regret I kept moving.

I didn't find anything down the two hallways. At the far end of the second one, a sign reading "SCREENING ROOMS A + B" had an arrow underneath pointing further into the depths of the building. I followed the arrow.

"Screening room" was something of an exaggeration for the area I emerged into. Though there was indeed a small screen against one wall with a porn flick being projected onto it, it hardly qualified as a theatre. There were about six rows of four seats, with an aisle down the middle. I was guessing it was less a place to watch the films than a place for people who wanted to have their sex out in the open. Over in one corner, a buxom, middle-aged woman was straddling a thickset black man, slowly bucking up and down. Beside them, another man (presumably her husband) was tied to a chair, watching and sporting a full hard-on. They seemed neither eager to show off nor to chase me away when I stopped to watch for a few seconds.

Further back through a curtain in a connecting doorway was another room of similar dimensions, though where the previous room was dim and shadowed, this one was brightly lit. There were fewer chairs here, and this room didn't have the pretense of a movie being shown; instead, one end of the room held a low stage, with a pair of X-frames on it. Two nude, spread-eagled men were cuffed to them at wrists and ankles.

My intuition told me I had found what I was looking for.

There was no one else in the room, and as I moved toward them I vaguely wondered to myself how the guys had gotten there. Then I was distracted as I got close enough to check out their cocks. But I didn't get a chance to fully appreciate them, for as my eyes started roving over their torsos, something on one of the men's hips caught my attention.

It was a tattoo of a QR code.

"Well," I said, as I arrived to stand in front of them. "I think that's what I'm looking for."

The men looked at me in silence as I pulled out my phone and scanned the code. I wasn't sure if a QR code on a person's body would work, but as always, a few seconds later I got a text back.

"GET THE TWO GUYS HARD, BUT DON'T GET THEM OFF"

Well, that was fine with me! Setting the box down, I knelt in between them, studying the cocks more closely. The guy to my left was a little older and paunchier and had a cut cock and large, dangling balls, all nestled in a bed of thick, dark pubic hair. The one on my right was about my age and uncut, his crotch nicely shaved. I leaned over and licked his cock first, running my tongue around his tight foreskin. Meanwhile, I reached over and started exploring the other guy's cock with my fingers.

After a bit, I switched. As I leaned in to lick his cock, the older guy's crotch had a much stronger -- and very erotic -- smell. I eagerly licked his shaft up and down, but then I forced myself to switch back again.

After a couple minutes of this, both the guys were erect -- the younger one more fully so, but even at full tumescence, his cock was shorter and thinner than the other guy's.

By now, there were further instructions on my phone.

"YOU ARE GOING TO JERK THE GUYS OFF AT THE SAME TIME UNTIL ONE CUMS

"TELL THEM THIS IS A CONTEST, THE WINNER WILL BE YOUR ASSISTANT TONIGHT AND THE LOSER GETS A PUNISHMENT"

Still on my knees between the two men, I read that last part to them, the set down my phone to have both hands ready. There wasn't any lube, so this was a straight-up stroke job. As I got going, starting with a slow stroke on both cocks, I felt a thrill to be handling two cocks at once... in fact I wondered if this was even more of a turn-on for me than for them.

But, in any case, the men were obviously enjoying having their cocks stroked. I heard a shuffle behind me, and twisted my head around to see that there were a couple guys now sitting at the back of the room watching us. That turned me on even more, and I think it was the same for the older guy, though the younger one simply closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

The older guy was leaking a lot of pre-come, and his cock was rock hard now, so it was easier to stroke him. I naturally started moving my hands up and down his shaft a little faster. And to be fair, I tried to keep my right hand, on the younger guy's cock, at the same speed. I vaguely wondered to myself if he was at a disadvantage because his foreskin wasn't retracted, but he was heating up pretty quickly anyway.

After a few minutes, I could tell we were in the home stretch. Both the guys were shifting around and trying to thrust their hips out, so I obliged by moving to a faster, more intense stroke. To my right, I could feel something else happening, and at the bottom of my strokes, I could feel the younger guy's balls twitching. It wasn't long after that that he started spewing out thick gobs of semen onto my hand.

I stopped stroking them, and when the younger guy's orgasm was done, I moved my right hand to my mouth and licked up the semen I had managed to catch, quickly swallowing it. I looked over at the older guy's cock, thinking I should finish him off as well, but remembered the instructions didn't mention that. He looked a little dejected -- not only at being left hanging, but for not having finished first.

Unsurprisingly, when I checked my phone, there was more waiting for me.

"OPEN THE BOX. TAKE OUT THE CHASTITY CAGE AND PUT IT ON THE GUY WHO CAME. TELL HIM HE'LL HAVE TO WORK ON HIS ENDURANCE, WHENEVER HE GETS ANOTHER CHANCE"

The younger guy had been looking a little smug, quite obviously thinking he had won the contest, and he gave a superior look to his opponent when I started pulling his balls through the cock ring. His expression changed when I started pushing his cock into the cage's shaft however, and he was just catching on to the fact that he was actually the loser as I relayed the comment from the text message.

Instead of the regular barrel lock, there was a 3-D printed plastic shaft that slid into the lock's place. The end of the pin sticking out had a small hole in that, and I figured out that the padlock in the box would be used to hold it in place.

There was no key in the box, and as the padlock clicked, the guy was looking at me in a bit of a panic. "How do I get this thing off?" he asked.

"I don't think you're allowed to get off any more," I said as I stood up, tugging at his balls to make sure that the cage was all secure. (And also because I rather enjoyed playing with his balls.) "As for getting the cage removed, well, I think you know who will decide about that."

He looked down at my cage. "How long have you had that on?"

"I thought it would be two weeks when I put it on, but I guess it's been... about three months?" I was still fondling his balls, which twitched when I said that. "You must be really turned on... it feels like you're trying to get hard in this thing already!"

I would have said more -- I wasn't sure if I wanted to assuage his panic or stoke it further to turn him on -- but my phone was buzzing, so I checked the next batch of instructions.

"UNLOCK THESE GUYS AND GET UNDRESSED. STOW YOUR CLOTHES AT THE BACK OF THE STAGE.

"GIVE YOUR PHONE TO YOUR ASSISTANT AND TELL HIM TO CHECK HIS OWN PHONE. FOLLOW HIS INSTRUCTIONS FROM NOW ON."

With that, I remembered I wasn't here to jerk guys off, but to make my final exposure video. I literally had no idea what was going to happen, and I was guessing I was going to be left in the dark as much as possible.

As I dug in my pocket to find the key I was given as I got here, I relayed the instruction to the older guy who would now be my assistant. I unlocked him first and he leaned around and grabbed his phone from where he had stashed it.

Meanwhile the younger guy was still coming to grips with his newfound locked status, half jabbering to himself. That diverted me as I started taking off my clothes, and when I was nude I was mildly surprised by how unconcerned I felt about being undressed in a strange, semi-public place.

There was a space behind the stage risers and I tucked my clothing there. When I ducked back around, my assistant handed me the wrist and ankle cuffs that he had just been wearing as he took my phone from me.

"Put these on," he said. "You can call me Dave, by the way."

I sat down in a chair in the first row and starting putting the lined leather cuff around my ankle. Meanwhile Dave, after studying his phone, started moving things around in the stage area. He hauled one of the bondage crosses off to the side, then tugged the other one (which I was guessing was where I'd soon be) to the centre of the area, lifting it down off the stage risers. He pulled those apart, and then pulled the cross back between them, pulling the risers back into the cross as close as they would get. He then went over to the wall and found a couple smaller riser sections and put those on top of the ones already there -- that made it look like there was a pair of steps on either side of the cross.

I had the cuffs on by the time he was done all that, and he gestured me over to the cross. I stood with my back to it, and he attached my ankles and then my arms above my head. As I had seen when I had released him, the cuffs had spring-loaded clips like you would find on a dog leash, but although they were not locked, there was no way I'd be able to release myself.

Once I was secure and in place, Dave studied his phone some more and then headed out the curtained doorway. The younger guy in the chastity cage had bailed as soon as he was dressed, so now it seemed quiet. Though to my surprise, as I looked out at the room, there were now a half-dozen men in the seats, most of them looking back at me.

I was jolted by a buzzing sound from the public address system, before a voice announced. "Special announcement for all the gentlemen in the establishment! In five minutes there will be a fag giving blowjobs in Screening Room B. Please help him suck as many cocks as possible while he's tied up for your entertainment. Please note that patrons' cocks will be recorded, but not their faces."

That probably has something to do with me, I guess, I thought as the guys sitting around in the room looked at me with increased hunger. This doesn't feel like... exposure, like how the other assignments were... there's no element of surprise here.

Dave came back into the room, and crouched at the box that I had brought with me. He grabbed the remaining items that I had been too busy to study. There was a digital tablet as well as a stand for it. Dave grabbed a chair off to the side and sat for a couple minutes, tapping at the tablet's screen while referring to his phone, then doing some other manipulations that I couldn't make out from the angle he was sitting at.

Standing up, he slid another chair into place a few feet in front of me and set the tablet on it, adjusting the stand so its back was facing me. I guessed that the lens I could see there would be the camera for this assignment. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple more men slipping into the room.

Satisfied with its alignment, Dave stepped in front of me, and started reading from his phone. "This tablet has a cloned copy of the contacts list from your phone, as well as your phone's SIM card. It's set to take a picture once a minute. After it takes a picture, it will roll a die. If it rolls a six, it will text that picture to a randomly-selected contact from your list, with a message making it look like it was meant for someone else. This assignment will last one hour." After a second he turned to the room and added, "gentlemen, this fag will now suck your cocks at your convenience."