Borrowed Ch.1

It was warm in the kitchen that Sunday morning, warm enough to be comfortable in leather chastity shorts locked on round the waistband and each leg and a leather collar. Too warm in fact at times as my sweat made the inside of the leather rub against my skin and chafe it. Never the less I was carrying on with my tasks when he came into the room. I stood still as I was trained to do.
"Small adventure for you boi," he said feeling my arse and running his hands round my waistband. "You need to be ready in a few minutes. Leave that in the sink and get your trainers on."
Any chance of leaving the washing up was great with me and I at once legged it out of the room, only to be drawn up smartly by his voice.
"Sorry Sir, thankyou Sir" I muttered hoping I wouldn't get a slap or worse.
He just looked, one of his "it's stored in the memory for next time" looks.  I got my socks and trainers on and returned to where he was waiting. Dressed in his leathers, something that had not struck me when I was in the kitchen, considering he generally only wore them when we were about to "play" as he often called the painfully erotic torture he put me through, he looked as powerful and elegant as ever. Taller than me, broad and muscular, someone you did not want to argue with as I had found out before, he put his hand on my shoulder as I stood next to him.
"Interesting couple of days I have lined up for you, well us in fact," he said. "I have a friend who's calling round to borrow something of mine, you actually. I owe him a favour and this was simple and cheap even though I'll have to fend for myself for some of the time you're away which doesn't appeal. I will, however, join you both tomorrow sometime."
"But, do I know.....?" He stopped my question with a swift look sideways at me.
"Just do as you're told, nothing more and nothing  less, and hope your host doesn't get carried away. He has some odd ideas at times and I know he wants to try out a few things on you but you'll live."
"Great," I thought. "Some friendly psycho to watch over me." I'd have willingly died for my Master but I wasn't keen on doing anything near it for a stranger however friendly he was with him.
It wasn't long before the sound of a vehicle in the drive focussed our attention. Round the corner of the building appeared a Transit van, shiny black, smoked windows. As the van came to a standstill the driver's door opened and out stepped a leather clad man, as tall as Sir but of slighter build and with a hard face behind dark glasses. My gut immediately twisted and I automatically clenched my arse cheeks in a sort of nervous twitch.
After they exchanged pleasantries, ignoring me completely, his friend looked at me or at least turned towards me. I couldn't see his eyes through the glasses but felt them on me all the same.
"Get in the back of the van boi. You'll see what to do. Strip and use your imagination, if you don't I'll use mine."
I was beginning to have real fears about this man. I'd learnt to trust my Master implicitly but now had some doubts about his choice of friends. I opened the back doors and jumped up over the sill. James, as I heard Sir address him, walked over and slammed them shut behind me. The interior light stayed on, dim but allowing just enough of a glow to see by. They couldn't be opened from inside. It was obviously that way for a reason and I had an idea what that reason was.
In the centre of the floor of the van was a steel cage, bolted to the floor and with it's door open. It wasn't as small as the punishment cell Sir had built into the cellar but still only just allowed a person to sit upright cross legged.  Sir had unlocked the shorts although the collar stayed in place so stripping meant only losing my trainers and the shorts. I got into the cage and saw a pair of handcuffs joined by a foot or so of chain hanging over one of the cross bars in the roof of the cage and "using my imagination" went to put them on. I stopped suddenly as I wondered if just slipping them on would be enough "imagination" so I closed the cage door which locked as I slammed it and shuffled round inside. Thinking that I would at least try and please James and consequently improve what looked like they could be frosty relations I knelt down putting my arms up and behind me. With  bit of effort I could cuff myself as the length of chain allowed just enough movement to do this. So there I was. Kneeling, head forward and down, facing the floor of a van about to take me goodness knew where for at least 48 hours. My only relief being that I knew Sir wouldn't let me down, he would join us sometime the next day.
It was a hot and sweaty hour in that position before I heard the van door open and the engine start. I was already sore and cramped and hoped the journey wouldn't be too long. I was bumped and swung about for, I suppose, half an hour when we stopped and all went quiet. "Thank god", I thought. "Whatever happens now will be a relief." But it wasn't. The back doors swung wide open and from where I was chained I could see only fields behind James' leather clad sillhouette.
"I thought I said imagination came into this" he almost shouted. "That took you about 30 seconds to work out did it? Well, we'll see what modifications we can make."
With that he got into the van, rummaged about in a box and produced a decent sized black butt plug, one with a cock head top followed by a ball followed by a shaft before, finally, the base plate. Grabbing my left thigh with one hand he pulled me up against the rear bars and began to work the plug into me, his spit being the only lube. I winced, I clenched my teeth but finally let out a howl before I screamed. Tears flowed involuntarily. As the pain in my arse felt it was being split apart I could do nothing to stop them. I hated the idea of crying in front of this stranger so soon but had no control. Finally it was rammed home. My face, wet with tears and my nose running, must have looked a sight  but I doubt if he noticed. "How's your balance?" he asked as he started to tie a loop of leather round my balls. "Better be good or you'll arrive later without these." He finished by attaching an elastic strap to the loop and tied it to one of the rear bars, tight. he leap down and slammed the doors. I was balanced on my knees, could not grip the roof bars and there was enough room in the cage to swing from side to side when we went round corners. I braced my feet against the cage sides and prayed. On reflection I think he drove like a madman for that final part of the journey. I was in a fairground ride. My feet kept slipping off the smooth metal and my balls were pulled painfully every few seconds. It grew quite intense and when the van finally stopped I was a wet sobbing bundle, sweating, exhausted, bruised and sore. And the doors remained shut.