The Keypad

In this coda from “Poker with the guys,” Didrik explains how the Keypad transformed him from boss to slave. 

My name is Didrik, and I used to be the boss. It was fun while it lasted, I guess. I came into my new job full of ideas and initiative, but it didn’t take long for me to learn my true place in the scheme of things. I’d been on the job six months when my five employees—Bill, Doug, Jim, Lou, and Steve—became the bosses of me. Sure, they still follow my instructions and preserve the illusion of being my direct reports at the office. The truth, however, is far more complex. They own me, but they force me to keep up the façade of leadership. They tell me what they want from upper management, and I make it happen, no matter what. I arrive early and stay late to do my job and much of theirs. They set their hours and tell me what work they’re willing to do. Any work left undone is my responsibility. 

You might be wondering how I ended up so deeply under their control. You might also ask what their hold over me is. Why do I continue to comply, even as it makes my personal and professional life increasingly difficult? The answers to these questions are equally complex. 

The guys—the five of them prefer to be referred to as a unit—control me with the Keypad. They first hooked me up to the Keypad a few months ago. It was a far simpler device back then, just a gag, a vibrating butt plug, a few well-placed electrodes, and a remote control. The first night, they left me tied up in the corner and played poker for hours while training me on their twisted version of Morse Code. Each numeral had a unique combination of buzzes and zaps, and that’s how they communicated how much cash they were taking from me. 

I learned quickly. They used me a lot. The next morning, they untied me, removed my gag, and gave me some clothes to wear from their closet. The torn pair of cargo shorts and dingy white tank top looked and smelled like they’d never been washed. It felt like I was wearing years’ worth of sweat, piss, and cum. The tank top and shorts covered the electrodes stuck to various parts of my body, but I still felt exposed in clothes that were two sizes too big. 

“Come on, boy,” Dave said. “Time to visit the ATM.” 

They bundled me into the back of their SUV and spent the entire ride giving me instructions on exactly what to do. When we got to the bank, the guys parked at the far corner of the parking lot and made me walk up to the ATM by myself. 

Each step of the way, the vibrations in my ass grew stronger. By the time I got to the ATM, my legs were buckling so badly from the intense pleasure that I could barely walk. I braced myself against the brick building and slid my ATM card in. I turned back to look at the guys and immediately felt waves of pleasure and pain as the plug and all the electrodes activated at once. I doubled over. Even from a distance, I could hear them laughing at me. 

I got back to my feet and wiped my brow. The shock sent my body into a fit of cold sweat, and My hands trembled as I keyed in my PIN. They must’ve been watching me with binoculars or something because each time I pressed a button, I felt the corresponding zap and buzz combination. They told me to withdraw $1,000, and I steeled myself for what was to come. The combination for zero was four vibrations and four shocks. 

I punched the 1 and bit my lip. Only a vibration. Only pleasure. 

I punched 0 for the first time. Fuck. Every thought in my mind was blotted out by overwhelming pleasure and pain. 

0 again. Fuck! I stared directly into the ATM security camera, wondering if somewhere, someone was watching me and wondering what the hell was happening to me. 

0 again. I grunted and wailed. I hoped the repeated shocking and teasing would make me build up a tolerance and withstand it more easily. I was wrong. 

My whole body shook. The vibrator in my ass felt like it was growing. My sweaty body, now clammy, made the dirty clothes I wore feel even dirtier. Waiting for the cash to dispense felt like an eternity. I snatched the bills from the machine the second they were spit out, as if they might blow away or get sucked back in if I hesitated even for a moment. 

As I walked back across the empty parking lot to the guys’ SUV, I felt something take hold in me with each step. They hadn’t just broken me. They had rebuilt me, too. My cash belonged to them, and so did I. As the SUV’s back hatch opened up and I climbed inside, I knew this would only be the first of many acts of service for the guys.