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It was late morning on a Friday. I’d slept in and was just killing time at home before going to work later in the afternoon. In fact, I was cruising for some porn, getting myself worked up as I was still thinking about getting fucked by Sir’s friend a couple days ago. I was straining against my cage, pre-come leaking down my leg, when there was a knock at the door.

Fuck. I live in a highrise, so usually if someone that I didn’t ring up from the lobby is knocking at the door it’s a waste of time – people selling stuff, religious nuts or politicians out meeting the public, none of which I needed.

The knocking came again. Of course, sometimes it was something to do with the building management. I sighed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants to pull over my caged dick.

I opened the door and there was a middle-aged guy there, holding a box. Although he had a sort of corporate-uniform collared blue shirt, he didn’t look like a courier, and I wasn’t expecting anything from Amazon or anywhere else. The guy just asked my name as he clung to the box.

“Do I have to sign for this?” I asked as he lingered by the door.

“Ah, no,” he said, speaking as if he wasn’t quite sure of his words. “But, aaah… I need you to take a picture for me. For confirmation.”

With that, he fumbled in his pants pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it and handing it to me. As I took it, flipping it toward me to peer at the camera interface on the screen, he set the box down, undid his belt and quickly dropped his pants and underwear. He grabbed the box again. “Okay, now.”

Confused but not turned off by this turn of events, I aimed his phone and snapped a couple of pictures of him standing in my hallway, pants around his knees, cock out. I was about to hand the phone back to him when I had an idea: “do you mind if I touch it?”

He seemed to embarrassed to answer, so I went ahead and reached for his cock, lifting it up to appreciate it. he was cut and about average in length, but it was an awfully pretty thing, and it felt invitingly warm in my hand. I moved my hand around a bit, feeling it, and I could feel it twitch a little in response.

This might have gone somewhere interesting, but just then the bell for the elevator rang down the hall. The guy hurriedly pushed the box towards me and jerked his pants up, grabbing his phone from my hand and turning away from my door as a woman got out of the elevator and headed away from us down the hallway without turning to look.

“Have a nice day!” I said as he managed to catch the same elevator back down to the street.

That was so strange and exciting that I had momentarily forgotten about the mysterious package. When I set it on my dining room table, I suddenly realized that there was no address on it, no postage, no markings of any kind. Who could this be from, then? Although an idea was already forming in my mind.

There was a small duffel bag inside the box, with an envelope on top that said “OPEN ME FIRST”. The letter inside read:


“For the next 12 weeks you will be creating and submitting a series of videos, one per week. You will find 12 QR codes in this package. They must be scanned as directed. Unless instructed otherwise, each week on Monday scan that week’s QR code using the app already installed on your phone. That will give you an instruction on where to shoot the video. When you arrive there, you will find another QR code that will, when scanned, give you specific instructions.

“All locations have been carefully scouted, and have been deemed to pose an acceptable level of risk for each challenge.

“Each challenge will be recorded with the enclosed camera. The QR code at each location will include a link where the video must be uploaded afterwards. Each task must be completed, and each video must be submitted by 11:59 p.m. on Sunday night. Scanning a code will generate a timestamp with GPS information that will be logged and monitored to ensure full compliance, and videos will have similar embedded information. Scan the QR code on this page when you have read these instructions.

“Filming and submitting these videos are your responsibility above and beyond any other obligations you have been given. Do not talk to me in person about these assignments. Do not text or email me any questions. I expect only to receive a video every week.”

“Note that the first video is due on Sunday.”

Oh, fuck! What am I getting myself into now?

4.a: Video

: the parking garage

It was Friday now, so unsurprisingly Sir had timed things so that I didn’t have a lot of time to get the first task done, especially given I had to work each night.

I turned my attention to the rest of the package. As I had seen before, there was a small brown duffel bag, and inside it there was a variety of supplies: a pair of padded leather wrist cuffs as well as regular metal handcuffs; a couple small brass Bakırköy Escort padlocks with one key inserted in each; a couple of those mountain-climbing clasp-hoops that people put on their belts to hold their keys (I would later learn that they were called carabiners, and these ones were the auto-locking variety); a small padlock with an LED display on the front whose instructions indicated it was a time-release lock; and, finally, a gopro-style camera with both a little screw-on tripod and a suction cup camera mount. The camera was so small that it didn’t have a screen of its own, but the instructions explained it worked with an app so your phone could essentially be used as a bluetooth viewfinder.

A note told me, rather to my surprise, that the app for the camera, as well as one for the QR codes, was already installed on my phone. Sir had indeed been planning ahead those times where he had me hand over my phone. The QR code app looked to be a customized one with a bare-bones interface, and I wondered if Sir had gotten it made for his own purposes, or perhaps had even fabricated it himself. Following instructions, I scanned the QR code on the instruction page. It binged, and a few seconds later I received a text from an unknown number. It said, “INITIAL QR CODE LOGGED”.

I looked through the instructions again to try and keep everything sorted in my head, and then I grabbed the card marked “1”. I laid that on the table and scanned it. A few seconds later, I got another text, which read, “VIDEO


Ha! Sir knew my work schedule, so he knew that I would still be at work at six on Saturday, so I would have to do it on my way home. He wasn’t giving me much wiggle room to get this done.

It certainly gave me an impetus to watch the clock the next day at work. I managed to time things so I could take my break at six, and I hunched down in my cubicle as I pulled the card out and scanned it again.

I felt nervous and excited as my phone buzzed to indicate an incoming text. It read, “LOCATION: Parking garage at 9th and Hedges, 3rd level. QR code with instructions is in the north-east corner near pillar 47.”

I wasn’t sure what was in store, but I managed to get out of work a little bit early to find out. It was past 11:30 when I biked up to the parking garage, and locked my bike down the block a bit. I was carrying the brown duffel bag with all of the supplies from the package in it.

Not being a regular driver, I wasn’t used to hanging around parking garages, but I saw a couple ahead of me looking like they were coming back from a nearby theater walk in to the garage, so I followed at a distance, trying to think inconspicuous thoughts. La da dee, just a regular citizen out to get his car and drive home. Definitely not sneaking in to film some sort of kinky video.

The couple I was following were parked fairly close to the exit and I saw them getting in their car as I found the stairway and went up to the third level. There were only a handful of cars up here, and I looked around to get my bearings, seeing that the pillar by the stairwell had a “1” painted on it. I moved outward, away from the stairs and elevator, and by the time I found pillar 47, there were no cars around at all. In fact, because of some ductwork, the spot I was looking for was a bit obscured from anyone nearby. Whatever I was going to do, Sir had picked what looked like a relatively-sheltered spot. My eyes worked along the walls, until I found a fresh QR code on a sticker on a pole. I pulled out my phone and scanned it.

As usual, my phone buzzed with a pair of texts seconds later.



I waited for more, but nothing else showed up. Swallowing, I suddenly realized that this was real, that this was happening, that this was a situation I had gotten myself into. My stomach was super-twitchy, but I was also excited as I pulled everything else out of the duffel bag. I undressed quickly, shooting furtive glances to try and catch any movement in the distance. The fact that I would be in my bare feet in this dirty garage was perhaps more immediately worrying to me than being naked.

My shoes and clothing mostly filled the bag, and I had to push everything down a bit as I did up the zipper. I ran the padlock though the eye of the zipper and the metal loop beside it and squeezed the lock shut. If anyone did come along now, there was no way I’d be able to get dressed in time.

While I was doing that, my phone buzzed again, and I flicked it open to read the next instructions.






I was glad to have these detailed instructions, as the blood was rushing in my ears now, and I could barely think straight otherwise. I set the camera down, aiming it at the wall opposite, then walked over, opening my phone to see that it was pointed in the right spot. Then I realized I didn’t have enough hands to hang onto my phone, so I went and set it on top of the duffel bag.

Back across and I studied the grating on the wall. You wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it, but about three feet over from a metal ring that was bolted into the concrete wall someone had obviously jimmied one of the slats out a bit, giving enough clearance that I could hook the carabiner through it. The spring snapped it shut – it wouldn’t be difficult to open, but I definitely couldn’t do it with my left hand.

In theory, there was enough “give” in the time lock’s shackle that I could reach down with my right hand and push the end into the body. That took some wriggling, but finally it clicked into place. I had a moment of shocking clarity: here I was in a public parking garage, nude and locked to a wall.

Well, at least I had the means of escape at hand. It took some fumbling, but I managed to reach the button that started the countdown. To my mortification, the digital clock emitted a long, loud beep as it started counting down.

So there I was. Exposed to anyone passing by, and there was nothing I could do about it for… I craned my neck to look over at the lock… nine minutes and forty seconds. Holy fuck! I’ve only been locked for twenty seconds? I thought it was maybe a minute already.

Time is relative, but it was still a little shocking to see how slowly it seemed to be passing now. And all I could do was stand there and wait.

Slowly, I felt a rush come over my body, like the electric tension before an orgasm, and my knees felt weak. All at once, the filters dropped away for a second and I had an understanding of what has happening to me. I had consented to this… I willingly went along with a scheme that could get me arrested or worse. And it was because… it was because…

It was because it was thrilling.

A month ago, I never would have had the guts to do something like this. But now… now, even if I felt like I was at the edge of something catastrophic happening, the feelings were so intense that I was swept away. It was incredible.

The wave of elation passed, and I looked at the timer again. Eight minutes to go. And that repeated the process… panic that time was passing so slowly smothered by the excitement that whatever happened, I had no control of the situation at all. Even if anyone came along now, the key to unlock the bag with my clothes was locked in the time lock, so there would be no choice but to wait.

It was a bit like getting punched in the gut every minute or so, but I allowed myself to give thanks that I was feeling a sort of intensity I would have never have had before. Immediately before feeling terrified once more, of course.

Several ice ages later, the digital clock counted down to zero. I knew it had hit the end of the countdown because it emitted a series of piercingly loud beeps, like a microwave indicator but seemingly much louder.

I wasn’t immediately out of hot water, as I had to fumble with my right hand (which felt surprisingly stiff) to press the button to release the time lock. Then my right hand reached over to release the carabiner attached to my left cuff. I pulled the padlock key off the time-lock’s shackle as I strode over to unlock the duffel bag and grab my clothes.

In a sense, I felt a similar deflating sensation as one feels after having an intense orgasm. (Or, at least, that I used to feel back when I was allowed to stroke my cock.) And suddenly, more than anything I wanted to be out of there. So I quickly put my clothes on, stuffed everything into the bag and got the hell out.

There was a security guard strolling around the ground level as I was heading to the exit. Without breaking my stride, I nodded as I went out. If he was keeping track of things in his head, he might wonder why someone was leaving when they just didn’t drive a car in. Or maybe someone else had just parked in the lot, I don’t know.

Still in a bit of a blur, I retrieved my bike and headed home. The ride helped relax me, and the panic attack, or post-exposure comedown, or whatever it was, was easing off. In fact, by the time I got back to my apartment I was feeling a bit turned on by the memory of what I had done.

Remembering the instructions, I knew I had to send the video to Sir. In fact, I’d received a text message with a link to upload it while I was on my bike. So I sat down, and pulled out the camera and opened Escort Bakırköy up the app that controlled it.

There was no video. I didn’t actually record any of that!

That set off a moment of desperate panic, before I calmed myself down, and tried to remember the sequence of events when I was setting up. I went and scrolled back through the instructions I received. I remembered that I was feeling a sort of giddiness after I had gotten naked, and I was dealing with it be very carefully, very literally following the instructions.

The instructions said where to set the camera and where to point it. They didn’t say “press record”. I had blanked on the most important part!

And then I realized: I had to do the whole thing over.

* * *

I was working late on Sunday, of course, so I had to go back to the parking garage on the way there. This time, everything was a bit more routine, except for the fact that the garage was a lot busier. It was still pretty quiet on the third level, but there were more cars scattered around… including one a couple rows over from “my” spot. If they came to get their car while I was in the middle of this, I would be in full view.

But still, no point in putting it off. So, back through the process once more. Get undressed, clothes in bag, lock bag, key on time-lock’s shackle. Check.

Then I got the camera back in place, and this time, when I walked over to check the angle on my phone, I pressed the little red dot that started recording. How did I miss that?

I set my phone down on the bag and went through the steps to secure my left, then my right arm. The beep of the digital clock still sounded so much louder than I wanted it to be.

Even at the far end, there was a bit of daylight seeping through from the open front of the structure and the whole place seemed brighter and airier. And I definitely felt much more exposed than I had the night before. I also felt a bit less apprehensive, as if going through this once had built my resolve. Of course, every time I heard the squeal of tires or the sound of an engine in the distance my heart leapt in my throat. But overall, this round lacked the highs and lows of the previous night.

It was still a relief when that loud beeping announced I was unlocked. This time, I forced myself to take the next steps at a slower pace. I opened my phone, checked the recording timer counting up, and hit stop, then checked to make sure there was a recording. Now I’d be able to upload it while I was at work, even if that would fry my data for the month. And only then did I unlock the bag, retrieve my clothes and get dressed.

I had a sense of accomplishment as I was leaving. As I was partway to the stairs, the elevator opened and a couple got out, turning to walk towards me. They barely noticed me as we passed each other, and just before I entered the stairwell, I turned back to see them getting into the car that was across my spot. That got me shivering… what if I’d gotten here and started five minutes later?

4.b: Video

: the stairwell

The next day when I got up, I realized the process would be starting over again already. But when I leafed through the stack of cards Sir had sent me and scanned the QR code labeled

, I just got a text back that said “TRY AGAIN ON THURSDAY”.

On Thursday I was temporarily distracted, as I had received my release picture from the chastity website. My mind was filled with thoughts about that as I remembered I also had to check about my video for that week. So I scanned the code again. and a few seconds later, I had the information: “30 MONTROSE AV. W STAIRWELL, LANDING BETWEEN FLOOR 11 + 12”.

I decided to knock this one off as quickly as possible, taking the bag of supplies with me to work so I could do this on my way home. That left me feeling both nervous and excited for my whole shift, and I wondered what my co-workers would think if any of them had a chance to peek in that duffel bag.

It was past eleven when I got to the apartment building – late enough that there wasn’t much foot traffic, but not so quiet that my presence was conspicuous. The first trick was getting inside the building, but like most city-dwellers, this was a skill I had developed over the years, waiting at a discreet distance for someone else to approach the lobby door, then hurrying to catch up to them and slip in once they had the door open.

Instead of waiting with my unwitting benefactor for the elevator, I headed down the hallway looking for the stairs, carefully checking against my metal map to be sure that I was heading for the west stairwell. This building was indeed a close cousin of Sir’s, and the layout seemed to be exactly the same – it even seemed to have the same property management company, as the signage in the stairwells was identical.

I was huffing a bit as I made it past the eleventh floor and waited to get my breath as my eyes scanned for the QR code. Ah, there it was, down by the floor, placed in a way that it wouldn’t catch your eye in you weren’t looking around for it. I pulled out my phone and scanned it with the app.



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