Hammer and Chisel
This was not supposed to be my submission for the night, but school ended up decimating me. Instead, I was supposed to come out with another bondage/submission related, but I don't have the energy to come up with a brand new story. Instead, I took an old submission that I gave up on and remade it to have a quick ending. It still ended up taking more than two thousand words to finish, but the stream of thought was nonstop. This story is actually a little bit personal to me, but I hope that you guys end up enjoying it. I truly don't think my intention was to ever release this story.
Fun Fact: I actually researched extensively into sculpting, just for this story.
Hammer and Chisel
By Dirt
The sound of smashing glass and cursing could be heard from Vincent's garage. It had been several months since he had an outburst that dealt with his work. It was not like his work was the most strenuous thing one would imagine for someone. In fact, for the most part, it was a bit of a challenge to consider it a job rather than a hobby. A hobby that brought in more income than Vincent would ever imagine he would be making, but still, it was hard for the raccoon to truly tell himself that this was what he did for work. Though, he stopped telling others that he was unemployed long ago. Apparently, telling someone that you did not work when you clearly lived extravagantly was extremely uncouth.
Vincent took a couple steps and observed the outcome of his outburst. The first thing that he noticed was his window. A long shard of glass dangled from the bottom of the window lintel like a guillotine blade, waiting for someone unlucky (and clearly unintelligent) enough to poke their head through the window. The rest of the glass had taken a trip to Vincent's yard, showering the flowers and grass underneath the sill. Along with the glass being completely demolished, the side of his chisel had clipped the frame of the window and took a chunk of the wood with it.
All of the equipment that the raccoon used to make his works of art were all tossed about the room in various locations. The wooden stool that he set to be slightly shorter than the height of the table had been tossed into a pile of rejected works. The table that he had used to place his alabaster on top of was flipped over on its side. The hammer that he used to drive the chisel into the stone had disappeared, probably to escape the raccoon's rage. The black alabaster sculpture that he was working on was now shattered on the floor in a dozen different shards.
Vincent himself was standing in the middle of the mess. Despite being a bit shorter and skinnier than most of the other males that he knew, he was quite a terrifying sight at the moment. His brown working overalls with various different carving tools inside of it was not torn up from trying to rip out one of the point chisels to toss at a wall. The white shirt that he wore was drenched in both sweat and spots of dust from his chiseling. His long brown hair had several knots and was going around in almost every direction.
Vincent reached his paw up and pulled off a long strand that hung on his muzzle. His anger was slowly starting to melt away as he looked at the result of his tantrum. The hole that was made from the anger melting away was quickly replaced by guilt. A guilt that would be expected of a cub who just broke one of his toys because it did not do exactly what he wanted it to. Vincent let out a long sigh as he slowly began to walk about the mess towards the sculpture that he was working on.
The raccoon had only been able to chisel out a small section of the sculpture, lobbing off most of it to get the slender design that he wanted. After he finished cutting down most of it, he started to form some of the basic shapes that he wanted. This one was going to be of a deity that one of his crazy Wiccan aunt worshiped. Despite the raccoon not believing in any of the 'witch-craft' that his aunt had believed, he still liked the way that the goddess looked. He had pictured the feminine deity to be covered head to toe in a long robe and most of the detail would go straight into the face.
Unfortunately, he clipped off a section of the muzzle and the entire thing was worthless to him now. Instead of putting it down and starting up another slab, he decided it was appropriate to act like a child instead. It came to him that he could have even worked around the error. He often saw those that considered themselves to have some sort of artistic vision would buy into the error as being intentional and give it the trait of having character. Yet, the idea of someone blindly believing that an outright error had been purposely made infuriated him. Rather than hand the flawed piece to the customer, he destroyed it along with half of his garage. A tad extreme, but he felt that it was fitting. At least, it was fitting before he had to live with the destruction that he laid to his workshop. His housekeeper and gardener were going to have a fit when they saw the result of his rage.
Vincent, tired of dealing with his shortcoming and his short temper, left the garage to go back inside of his house. It had been months since he had a tantrum like the one that wrecked his workstation, but they were consistent. Some minor mistake would happen and he would destroy parts of his room. He wanted to work inside of his nice air conditioned room, but he could not afford to keep replacing things in his house anymore. Instead, he moved everything to the garage where no one would care about the holes inside of the walls.
The raccoon walked inside of the house through a sliding glass door that lead into the kitchen. He walked around in a circle, observing every part of the kitchen before letting out a long sigh. The french door refrigerator had twenty five cubic feet of space inside of it, all for holding a gallon of milk, a block of cheese, and a slab of summer sausage. The pots and pans that hung over the island in the middle of the kitchen hadn't even been given the opportunity to boil water. There were drawers that the raccoon was not a hundred percent sure was in them. It was an extremely extravagant kitchen, but there was very little purpose for it. He did not cook, nor did anyone ever cook inside of it. It was just for show and even then, he had very little to show it to.
He stood around for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. The thought of going back inside of the garage made him a bit sick to his stomach, but there was very little things to do now that he was not sculpting. He had a TV that he turned on just to turn off. He had a study that had shelves of books he never picked up. He had a computer that was the size of a textbook yet ran every single electronic device inside of his house. He usually used it to send e-mails to potential clients and debut his stuff online.
Vincent could feel another outburst growing inside of him, and it took all of his strength not to throw one of the chisels that hung inside of his overalls straight into his TV. Knowing that he was going to lose it soon, he decided that the only way out of his slump was to do something that he had not done before. He knew what was on his mind. He had been thinking about it for years now, but he never had a really good excuse to go out and try it. A thought slipped passed his mind that made him chuckle; had he made the mistake subconsciously just so that he could finally indulge in his fantasies?
Vincent walked out of the kitchen towards the open living room section of his house. He turned on the television and used his keyboard-remote combo to find the channel linked to his computer. When he got to it, he browsed about a bit through different sites until he found the personals ads that he was looking for. They were simply Master/Slave ads from different locals in the area. The raccoon had always been turned on by the idea, but he would always put off trying it. When he was in school, he thought that it would get in the way of his studies. When he was just starting work, he thought it might get out and give him a bad name. Now that he was big, he thought that it might distract him. Yet now he needed that distraction.
The first couple ads that we went through were nothing too impressive. One was a black wolf looking for something quick and easy, which neither appealed to the raccoon. Then there was a bull who looked to be about twice the size of the raccoon. Though he liked the idea of taming something that was much bigger than him, he knew that he wanted something that was not going to kill him if he messed up. After a couple more ads though, he finally found the one that looked most appealing to him. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number to the ad.
"Hello, Ricky?" He asked, waiting for the person to reply.
"This is someone who saw your ad. Get out a pen and paper and get over here in about half an hour. No exceptions." He gave the other his address and immediately hung up. Vincent was not necessarily an expert at the game that he never played before, but he knew that the demands that he made and the amount of detail that he gave was ideal to those who consider themselves to be slaves.
Vincent tossed the remote onto a couch next to the television and walked into a hall that connected his bedrooms to the living room. He opened up the nearest door on his left hand side and peeked in to see if he left any 'toys' inside of the room that he slept in. The room was like the kitchen: uselessly extravagant. There was a large television that was aimed straight at the king sized bed. Neither that he enjoyed very much. When he was sure that he had put everything away, he closed the door and turned to the room that was across from his bedroom. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys to unlock the door.
This room was the very opposite of everything inside of his house. Where the rest of the house was painted a bright white, this room was painted over to be completely black. The windows had been covered over with duct tape, both to keep out the light and to cover up one of the missing glass panels that was taken out when he had a fit. There was no way to see anything inside of the room without a light or the door being open. Vincent reached his paw out to the wall, grasping for a couple seconds until he could find the switch.
When he finally managed to flick the lights on, the room was lit up by a single bulb that hung from the ceiling. The room was straight out of some horror story. The carpet that was in every room of the house had been torn out and replaced with hard wood flooring. There was a dresser similar to the one in his own bedroom, but various parts of it had been knocked out, also from Vincent's anger. On top of the dresser was a leather hood held up by a dummy's head and next to that was a propped up riding crop.
Along the wall closest to the door was a rack with different whips and crops. The whips ranged from long and single ended bullwhips to short and branched nine tailed whips. The raccoon was never sure which style he would prefer more, so he chose both of them and everything in between. Among the different whips were also a couple paddles. The first paddle was pretty simple in design, just being a wooden handle that held up a leather slapper. However, the second one was a different beast in itself. The entire thing was made of wood and there were thick holes drilled through the entire thing.
On the wall furthest from the door was a couple shelves full of different dildos and plugs. The top row was packed with the different dildos and there was quite a variety between them. There was at least twenty different species available ranging from the most common canine and feline members to some of the more exotic reptilian and cetacean members. Some of them were even fantasy monster penis replicas which the raccoon would be hesitant to try again. At least, on himself. The bottom shelf was covered in different types of plugs. Some of them had tails of their own for feral play, while others looked like trainers and gapers.
In the middle of the room was the raccoon's favorite toy of them all. It took several months to figure out how to get the contraption to work, but it was all worth it. From the ceiling of the room hung a long chain and a pair of thick metal shackles. The shackles themselves were designed quite well, being able to be adjusted to fit tightly around any sized wrist while at the same time able to withstand any amount of pressure on them. The chain that held the shackles up was also a work in itself. The chain could be lowered and raised by remote control without any fear of it breaking in the middle of play.
The room was quite well stocked for all of Vincent's twisted fantasies. The only thing that was missing was someone to play with. The raccoon went back out into his bedroom and stripped himself of his own clothes and tossed them on the floor where he knew his housekeeper would see it. He then walked back into the black room to put on his own gear before his company would arrive. Just as he finished putting on the last piece his ears perked up to the sound of the doorbell.
Vincent took a quick peek to ensure that it was not another delivery of sculpting stone and when he was sure he opened the door. Outside stood an extremely nervous and extremely submissive looking kangaroo. It was strange to see his species looking so shaken up, especially since he was a good foot taller than the raccoon. He was wearing a tight flamboyant poly synthetic shirt that showed off his lean body and abs. His short shorts went way above his knees, showing off to everyone his naturally thick muscular legs. The kangaroo even went out of his way to show his subservient attitude by wearing a leather collar around his neck.
Course, Vincent also wanted to show off to the kangaroo himself. He had put on a leather harness that wrapped around his shoulders, met to a ring just about his stomach and looped back down to the base of his tail. He decided that boxers or underwear were not revealing enough and instead wore only a tightly pouched black latex jockstrap. One that was tight enough to reveal his package behind the latex. Around his own neck was a collar, but it was completely different than the simple collar that the kangaroo brought. The black leather was gripped by metal buckles that dug into his fur uncomfortably. The metal ring that protruded in the front of the leather collar was oversized and took thick to latch on any typical leash.
The raccoon's entire display made the kangaroo question whether he still wanted to do this or not. He was barely eighteen and his idea of bondage was handcuffs and a blindfold. He did not expect that handcuffs and a blindfold was a snack to the raccoon dom. His ears and head flicked over to his car. Maybe if he started to run now, he would be able to go home, jerk off to some pics, and never indulge in his fantasies again. The raccoon saw the hesitation, and knew that he couldn't let his prize go. He reached his paw out and grabbed the kangaroo's collar, yanking him inside of the house.
"Having second thoughts?" Vincent asked calmly before closing the door behind him.
The kangaroo tripped over his own feet as he flung inside the house. He hadn't expected such a frail creature to be able to pull him in with such strength. He landed on the hard tile floor, sliding forward until he stopped himself with his hands. He looked up at the raccoon in fear, regretting that he did not move faster. However, instead of a sadistic grin that he expected from someone who labeled themselves as 'dom', the kangaroo saw a worried and frantic expression on Vincent's face. He even had his hand out as though he tried to catch him before he fell but was too late. Vincent realized how he looked and quickly corrected himself, moving into a disinterested pose as though he intended for the kangaroo to fall.
"Get up, slave. Don't bother telling me your name. That is your name from now on."
The kangaroo let out a muffled chuckle. He thought the name was pretty basic and so was most of the raccoon. Vincent's muzzle twitched. His sensitive ears picked up the chuckle and he would not tolerate that at all. He walked over to the boy and grabbed one of his floppy ears. The kangaroo was still learning to be submissive, but he knew when to play the part. He did not grab hold of the raccoon's arms and pull him off, but instead got to his feet quickly. He was up just in time for the raccoon to yank his ear harshly and lead him to his dungeon.
The tug on his ear hurt, but the slave knew what he signed up for. Vincent dragged his ear down until he was sure that the kangaroo's head was below his own. Vincent might have been just as new to the whole master/slave relationship as his new slave was, but he still knew what he wanted. He wanted the taller guys to finally get down below his level and feel how it was like to be looked down upon. It almost hurt the slave's neck to be bent down the way that he was, but he adjusted himself to make it easier to follow his master.
When Vincent brought the slave into his room, he saw the same reaction on the kangaroo's face as he had earlier. He looked like he wanted to run. His mind struggled to take in everything in the room at once, especially when each object was riddled with questions. The kangaroo had almost made his mind to leave, but Vincent stopped him again. This time, he gave his slave another harsh tug and forced him into the middle of the room. The slave's muzzle spouted out a series of jumbled words and incoherent sentences. Vincent just ignored it and shackled his wrists to the cuffs that hung from the ceiling.
"Stop babbling and stay still. What did you want from this meeting anyways?" Vincent complained.
This! This is exactly what he wanted from the meeting. The slave wanted it so bad, but he was too terrified that he was actually going to get what he wanted. It was one thing to play around with the idea, but now there was no playing around. He had talked a big talk when he was messaging people online about things that he would do IRL, but now he was going to talk the walk. He hadn't even established his limits with the raccoon, and that sort of blatant oversight made it even more excruciating. The raccoon had not even made the slightest mention of a safeword between the two.
He quickly realized why the raccoon was not really interested in a safeword anyways. While he was too busy trying to take in everything that was going on, Vincent had snuck around behind him and rattled a few things. He was not sure about all the things he was grabbing, but he knew that he would never really have the opportunity to find out. Without any warning, the raccoon engulfed a hood over his muzzle. The slave fought with Vincent, trying to move his arms to take the hood off. Unfortunately, they were just short of reaching the hood with the shackles keeping his hands up.
The kangaroo swung his head around, trying to fling the mask off of his muzzle, but Vincent was not going to let that happen. Despite the hood being made for a canine, he was able to zip the back of it up until the zipper was all the way between the kangaroo's ears. Vincent groaned as he heard the kangaroo yelling and cursing inside of the mask. It sounded distant with the hood over his muzzle, giving the raccoon an eerie feeling that ran up his spine. Luckily, someone thought of this beforehand and created a solution for Vincent. He reached his paws forward and grabbed hold of a strap on the kangaroo's muzzle, pulling it tightly and ceasing the kangaroo's yelling.
The strap forced his muzzle to clamp shut, leaving him to whimper silently to himself as Vincent began to prepare everything. The mask around the kangaroo's muzzle was tight, but two large slits in the front gave him more than enough room to breathe through his nostrils. The ears might not have been made for the kangaroo, but they were loose enough to let them relax in the pouches. In fact, other than being a bit too short in the front, the leather mask was practically made for him. Knowing that he wasn't going to be suffocated in the mask relaxed him enough to stop struggling.
Vincent was not quite ready to stop torturing his new slave though. He grabbed the remote control and clicked a few buttons on it. The shackles tugged upward onto the chain, pulling the slave up by his wrists easily. Vincent contemplated leaving his hanging in the air, but he knew that the cruel treatment was too soon to warrant. As well, he wanted to save that for when he actually wanted to punish the slave. Instead, he continued to lift the chains until the kangaroo was up to his toes and struggling to keep himself on the ground.
The kangaroo's legs jerked a couple times, trying to find a comfortable spot to rest and being unsuccessful. He eventually realized that the tips of his toes were as good as it was going to get. He touched his toes to the ground, stretching them a bit before they could comfortably steady him while he was in the air. He couldn't tell what the raccoon was up to, but he knew that he was already disliking it. He tried to say something through the mask, but he couldn't open his mouth enough to let out even a single word.
He did not have to wonder what Vincent was doing for very long. A quick poke on his rear made him jump, but he quickly put himself together and remained still. Despite all that he was going through, he knew that he came here to be a good slave for a master. He was going to have to start acting the part better and put trust that his master knew what he was doing. Even when he couldn't see or hear what the little raccoon was up to.
He felt another poke against his rear, barely flinching to it this time before he heard a long snip sound. Vincent had taken the liberty of removing the kangaroo's tight shorts. Instead of working with the button and zipper though, he decided to take a more direct route. He began to cut away at the kangaroo's clothing with a pair of scissors, taking extra precautions not to accidently cut off any of the kangaroo's fur.
A few snips later and the kangaroo was good to go. His shorts fell to the floor in tatters, leaving his bottom half completely exposed to Vincent. The kangaroo had taken the liberty of not wearing any underwear, which made the whole ordeal perfect to Vincent. The slave shivered when the AC blew the cold air on his genitals and ass. The sensory deprivation made the kangaroo feel complete different being naked. Without seeing himself or the raccoon's face, he felt a million times more naked than he ever felt before. He was only left with his imagination and his past experiences to figure out how he looked. For all he knew, there could have been cameras setup all across the room and live audiences on looking his exposure.
The whole thing made him feel uneasy again and he quickly responded. The kangaroo lifted his legs up before dropping his body towards the ground. He had hoped that the entire thing might have broke and he would have been released. Vincent knew what his slave was doing, but he also knew what he paid for. The pulley was designed to lift trucks into the air, so there was no fear of it breaking. However, he did not like the idea that the kangaroo was trying to break out of his chains and knew that he had to rectify the situation.
Vincent walked around the room, half listening to the kangaroo try and fight his bonds. He was more focused on which of the toys that he was going to use. It was something that took up most of his concentration. The crops looked like they hurt, but it looked like the damage would be short lived to the victim. The whips were quite intimidating, but he was not quite sure if he would want to hurt the boy that much. He figured he could always just lube up a dildo and shove it in the roo, but he might just like that too much. The paddle seemed like the perfect tool.
Vincent grabbed the thick wooden paddle with the holes and walked towards his slave. The kangaroo had not given up trying to get out of his shackles. Vincent figured that he was so quiet, he hadn't realized that the raccoon was still in the room. He was quickly going to change that though. Like a hitter stepping up to the plate, Vincent walked behind the kangaroo and pulled the paddle back. The slave was in the process of lifting himself again just to slam down on the chains. This time, however, he would not come down to air.
The paddle timed itself perfectly with the kangaroo's struggles, coming down just as the wooden plank met his backside. The slave lunged forward, trying to run away from the pain as far as he could. The paddle connected sharply against both of his cheeks. The holes left marks all over his ass which was glowing red. He let out a loud groan into the mask, trying to scream but barely able to make a peep. The only noise that he could really make was him rattling around with the shackles around his wrists.
Vincent cringed as he realized how hard he hit the roo. He had not meant to hurt him that bad, but the way that the kangaroo moved into his paddle was perfect. He watched the kangaroo fling his large tail around, trying to smack the paddle away from him, even though he couldn't see it. Vincent knew he was going to need the tail out of the way before he could do that again. He walked around his room, looking through the dressers until he found his little contraption. It was a tail ring with a cord and hook around it.
Vincent fought with the kangaroo for a couple seconds, trying to hold his tail steady as he hooked the ring around his tail and brought it up to the back of the kangaroo's head. The slave was not ready to give up, moving himself around to avoid letting the raccoon hook the ring to his collar. It was all futile though. He could not keep dodging the hook forever with the position he was in. The hook snapped into place on the back of the kangaroo's collar and Vincent quickly stepped back to see the result. The slave's feet dragged on the ground as he accepted the loss. The kangaroo's massive tail fought with the ring around it, trying to pull it off so he could start fighting again. It was no use, however. The ring was too tight and the kangaroo's rear would remain exposed for Vincent.
Vincent did not waste any opportunity. He quickly picked his paddle up again and picked the kangaroo's right side. He reached his paddle back and gave a quick swing to his exposed cheek, getting another lash out from the slave. Vincent did not stop there though. He switched sides, facing the kangaroo's left cheek this time. He pulled his arm back again and gave enough swing, slapping in straight into the kangaroo's left side this time. Vincent changed sides every swing, increasing his force with each consecutive hit.
The slave took another ten slaps in the rear before he came to the reality. He had wanted this. He knew that this was exactly what he dreamed of. It might not have felt as good as he imagined it, but he knew that it was not supposed to feel good. In fact, it was supposed to hurt like a bitch. He stopped finally stopped fighting the raccoon, and instead, reached his toes out so he could stand on them again. He even arched his back so that he could stand up straight and accept the next hit.
Vincent saw this and gave a twisted smirk. He lined up his paddle between the boy's beaten ass and hesitated for a second. Both Vincent and the slave were nervous to see what was going to happen next. Vincent left the cold wood on the kangaroo's hot ass, letting it become tense with anticipation. Vincent pulled back quickly and gave his ass one last strong strike. To his surprise though, the kangaroo flinched, but did not buckle to the beating. He saw the kangaroo grab tightly against the chains, trying to redirect the pain as best he could.
Vincent knew at that moment that he was going to love this kangaroo. Not because he wanted something that he could beat, but something that he could shape. He walked over to the wall and grabbed a riding crop before walking over to face the kangaroo. The slave couldn't see his master in front of him, but he knew that was there. He knew that he was being examined by the raccoon, but he could not quite place what he was doing. It did not matter much to him though. He was finally accepting that his fetish was more than just words to him. It was going to be a lifestyle for him for as long as his master was interested in him.
And Vincent knew that he was going to be interested in the kangaroo for a while. Like he would use his hammer just before carving into sculpting stone, he used his thumb and the riding crop to level the kangaroo. Instead of picturing how he wanted to break the block down though, he was picturing how he would build the kangaroo up. Build him up from being a boy that couldn't handle even the sight of bondage gear to a slave that would live his live in it. He knew that it would take some time, but that was the not going to be too hard. After all, if he could sculpt stone, how hard could anything else truly be?