Kinky Roommate Adventures Pt. 04

It's early evening, still the same day Mitch tied me up and dramatically changed the dynamic between us. I'm standing at the counter in the kitchen, making dinner. Specifically, I'm slicing vegetables as I tend ground beef simmering on the stove and occasionally stir a pot of boiling pasta. Other than the meat (I eat meat sometimes when I go out, but I never cook it), the scene resembles what I do regularly.

Only there are a few key differences from a normal evening, making dinner in the kitchen. First of all, I'm naked. Even during the 'experiment' I never went around with my dick out. Yet I feel it acutely, pressed between my body and the counter.

Second, I'm shackled. Metal cuffs hang from each of my slender wrists, a chain of perhaps a foot or a foot and a half connecting them. Similarly, cuffs embrace both of my ankles, with a slightly larger length of chain between them. A vertical chain extends from the center link of the wrist chain down to my ankle chain, meaning that I can't raise my hands higher than my waist without pulling my legs together. All in all, I can move, but rather slowly and laboriously. When I pick up the sliced zucchini and place it in a mixing bowl to the side of the cutting board the chains rustle against one another and the counter top, and I feel the tug of the chains on my ankles.

"It's so fucking hot watching you struggle to cook me dinner like that," a voice behind me muses. It's Mitch, of course, my roommate-cum-owner-slavemaster-whatever-he-is-now. Part of my rational mind (a large part of it) still has a hard time comprehending this scene. But here it is, irrefutably real. The new 'normal.'

As Mitch had untied me (at long last) from the heating pole, he had carefully shackled me so I really never had a chance to escape. Not that that would have helped. Where would I have gone? He still had his airsoft gun, and he was clearly far more ruthless than I was—and committed to the idea that, in this apartment, he would be dominant and I would be submissive.

I suppose I could go to the housing office and request a transfer. But that would open a huge can of worms—housing at the University was scarce and they would certainly ask why I needed to break my lease agreement. I certainly had a good enough reason, but did I want to have to tell everyone what had happened? It would be a case of "he said, he said." More importantly, I really didn't want my peculiar interests and kinkiness to be exposed to bureaucratic scrutiny.

What's more, I was afraid of what Mitch would do to me in the meantime. I had nowhere else to go until a transfer was effected, and that could take weeks. Meanwhile, Mitch would have plenty of opportunity to bend me to his will, just like he did this morning. In this intimate contest of roommate supremacy Mitch was waging, I didn't stand a chance.

Besides, Mitch was thorough. After untying me from the heating pole, he made me give him access to all my social media apps and accounts. "If you're my slave now, you have to do as you're told," he had said. "Give me access to all your accounts. If you disobey me, I'll have all kinds of sexy pictures and videos to upload for everyone you know to see."

I did as I was told. If you were naked and chained up and knew your roommate could (and would) do anything with you he liked, you would have, too. And, of course, parts of me were and are really excited at the thought of actually getting to experience powerlessness and captivity. I'm not going to lie: I've often fantasized about being forced to be someone's slave. It's a fantasy that gets me very aroused, and here I am, experiencing it for real.

This isn't going to happen again, an inner voice quietly intoned. Enjoy it. It's a rare, unique opportunity to explore something you've dreamed about all your life.

Yeah, I responded, but what if I want it to end before he does? What if I have no control over what he does with me?

Isn't that the whole risk and reward of surrender? came the reply.

I move to my left, pull up on the chains binding my wrists, and reach to grab the spoon resting on the fry pan. The meat is sizzling nicely. I stir a bit, ensuring it all gets browned, then add some additional seasoning. I'm sliding over to the pot of boiling pasta when I feel Mitch's hand cup my right ass cheek. Instinctively, I flinch, nearly dropping the pasta spoon in the process. It's been a very hot afternoon, and though I'm not wearing a thing, being this close to the stove and having direct sunshine on my naked body has made me sweat slightly. My nipples are big, soft, and tender—from the heat and my roommate's teasing. Mitch's hand feels red hot on my bare ass. I press myself against the counter to evade him, but he merely presses harder.

Then I feel his other hand slip between my legs. Almost immediately, I feel him find the hard piece of plastic nestled between my cheeks—the butt plug he had inserted in my ass a couple of hours ago. I let out a high-pitched sound of surprise. He twists it around a bit, making me moan involuntarily.

Or is it voluntary? Am I starting to lean into it already?

Mitch gives a satisfied chuckle. Then I feel his hands pull my cheeks apart and I know he's staring at the base of the jeweled plug, humiliatingly sparkly and purple. I feel him watching me, feel the plug firmly ensconced just inside my anus. I don't dare attempt to take it out with my hands—that would be to directly defy him, with unknown and frightening consequences—but I did initially try to push it out using my abdominal muscles. That had proved futile. It was really frustrating in a submissive sort of way to know (and constantly feel) that this metal bullet was in there, that he had put it in there, and I couldn't get it out. That even my anus was under his active control now.

I finish cooking dinner. He sits at the table as I present my pasta bolognese as best I can, shackled as I am. He tells me to stand at attention a couple steps away while he eats. So I stand there. He gazes at me as he eats, making appreciative sounds and engaging in small talk.

"You know, you're a really good slave. I think this arrangement is going to work out nicely."

Things of that sort.

I ask him questions. Is he ever going to unchain me? Am I going to be allowed to do my work? What about leaving the apartment? If I agree not to resist and to submit to everything he wants, will he trust me enough to let me be unbound at least? He relishes the power dynamic—the very fact that I have to ask these questions is delicious to him, I can tell—but remains noncommittal in his replies. "We'll see," is about as specific as he will be.

After he finishes he tells me I'm allowed to eat, then gets up. "Clean up in here. If there's a mess you'll be punished." So I spend an hour eating, then cleaning up the kitchen, all while chained and naked. Whenever I move I feel the metal plug shift against my ass hole.

That night, Mitch finally unchains my wrists, locking the vertical chain to my bed instead. He mercifully removes the butt plug as well. I sleep naked and shackled—definitely a first—wondering what on earth tomorrow will bring, utterly shocked at the new state of affairs. Looking down my naked body to the chains around my feet I feel parts of me squirm with sexual excitement. I'm in way over my head, and I think I like it. Tomorrow, I get to be submissive and my roommate gets to do what he wants with me. For a long while I lie awake, stewing in the erotic delight of it all.