This story is sexual fantasy fiction primarily about control between adult men with punishment plus sneaker and clothes play and destruction. There are some sexual situations but it is not the primary objective of the story. If you object to any of this then read no further. Text messages are shown in italic with no space between the responses.
This part has sections written by my good friend ssb1978, and as in other parts some of the story is loosely autobiographical (this part especially). Thanks to J. Forrester for his excellent “Do As You’re Told” story that inspired me to publish my story, and for his advice and encouragement.
Remote Controlled Part IV
My first thought was “Awww fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.” It was a common thought of mine; maybe you’d call it a catchphrase. I must have passed out when I crashed through my door. Or was it when I hit the floor? My shoulder hurt, that I did know. Really hurt. My jeans were still soaked and one of my sneakers - Luca’s one - had come off my foot and was wedged in the door stopping it from closing.
I scrambled to retrieve it, letting the door slam shut, relieved that no-one had peered in and witnessed me like this. Well, I assumed no-one did or they would have helped me out wouldn’t they? What a sight I would have been!
I checked my phone - it was just before midnight.
Did you make it?
Speak to me please
Oh, okay, looks like you are asleep. Let me know when you wake up.
How did he know I was *ahem* asleep? I texted him back and explained.
*ping* no worries - you've had a busy day!
I'm smell - need to shower and go to bed
Okay, but I'll be trying another setting if you shower
I am not a big water sports fan - it's fun to watch but I'm not a raunch pig. The decision was therefore easy; I pulled off the piss soaked jeans (eventually), followed by the sopping briefs and the rest of what I was wearing. After letting the shower run for a moment I hopped in, savouring the warm water falling over my body.
It was then I remembered I didn’t have any shower gel. It had been in my luggage, which my Controller stole, and I had used Luca's while staying with him. Oh well, just a rinse tonight then.
I had got out and started toweling myself down when the base ring started doing something. Within seconds I was rock hard and the other ring moved itself to the very top of my cock and started lightly squeezing. I grabbed my phone to check the app.
Permanent Erection Mode
That did not sound good... It was then I remembered that at the airport the security officer had changed the settings through the app! I tapped the ‘end mode’ button.
Well that’s hardly fair!
*ping* Oi! Naughty boi. Right, you’re getting another punishment for that attempt.
Chasity Mode Enabled
Permanent Erection and Chasity? I wondered how that would work and then it dawned on me - I was going to continuously stimulated but not allowed to cum. That sounded really bad…
*ping* The old app couldn’t do that - I pushed out an update while you were sleeping
Oh joy, well done you…
You’ve just earned another hour of punishment for that pathetic display of sarcasm!
! How many hours does that make?
You’ll find out…
Bastard. I was still naked after my shower and as well as no shower gel I had no deodorant, so I decided to just head to my bedroom to get some sleep. I pulled the the bedside drawer open to grab some boxers.
Uh oh. I pulled the second and third drawers and they were equally bereft of underwear. My two sock drawers were the same. I stood in front of the first door of my floor to ceiling wardrobe, which held my shirts and tees already knowing what I’d find.
The second fronted by a full length mirror which contained all my jeans, trackies and hoodies was empty. The third had all my sneakers as well as belts, caps and my other accessory and a few overflow tees was the same. Well almost. There was an envelope on the shelf where my favourite Osiris Bronx once stood. ‘Open Me’ was written neatly across the front. Inside was a Lanyard, a pair of earphones and a USB stick with ‘Insert Me’ written down the length of it in the same handwriting.
Wtf is this? Where are my clothes?
No response. I sighed, taking the USB stick to my laptop. Within a few seconds it had flickered into life I inserted the stick; three files - Run Me 1’, ‘Run Me 2’ and ‘Run Me 3’. I selected the first one.
A video started. It was a field. No wait, there is something in it. The camera dropped down - it must have been a drone - and showed a line of boxers shorts and briefs. My boxer shorts and briefs! It moved down the line, sometimes three or four wide, sometimes only one but all neatly laid out. The drone lifted back up so the full collection could be seen on the screen. It was quite amazing how many I had.
Then an engine started.
From one side of the screen entered a large sit down lawn mower and ploughed into my underwear. My hand went to cover my mouth which had dropped slightly open. The noise of the whirring blades slowed and changed pitch as they shredded my underwear to tiny pieces of fabric. In less than thirty seconds it had left the other side of the screen, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
The drone lowered itself and started to slowly show the carnage at close quarters, just to make sure the full gravity of the situation had sunk in. Once the the procession was complete it returned to a higher level, lingering on the scene of underwear confetti before the screen went blank.
I don’t know how long I sat there looking at the blank screen. I glanced at the pissed soaked pair of c-in2 briefs Luca had given me. They were the only pair of underwear I now had. I knew what the other two videos would be but I clicked on ‘Run Me 2’ anyway.
We were inside this time; a warehouse or the like. The drone dropped down to a conveyer belt and after a couple of seconds a pair of jeans came into view. They were my mid blue Diesel jeans; cost me about £140. Within a few seconds they fell into a hopper with turned cogged wheels that violently tore the jeans asunder. The camera panned up and I could see more of my clothes arriving to meet their end. My Lacoste trackies and Adidas Chile pants were reduced to shredded pieces Nylon. My collection of vintage 80’s Adidas sprinter shorts gone in seconds, followed by all my tees and polo shirts. Nike, Adidas, Lacoste, Ralph Lauren, Moncler, Carhartt reduced to a multicolour churning mass of rubbish. My North Face Nupste jacket exploded in a puff of feathers while my Alpha Industries flight jacket seemed to take an age as it was stretched between the grinding teeth. It actually caused the machine to stall so it spat it out and tried again. It must have taken ten minutes for all my jeans, hoodies and coats to be churned up.
The noise stopped, and in the silence the drone moved to the large pile of rended clothes, now no more than useless fabric. I don’t know how much all that had cost - at least £5000. Maybe more…
In sympathy with my gear, my emotions were torn. I was loving this as much as I was hating it. I so wanted this to be happening to me as I’d rather it hadn’t. There is that fear/excitement vibe again. Well then, what excruciating joy did ‘Run Me 3’ hold?
Outside again. Same field as the underwear? Possibly. Ahh, here we go - camera pans around to show a huge pile of sneakers. My sneakers. I probably have sixty pairs. Nike (original BWs, tns, 97, 95, 90s, Frees, AF1 and more), Adidas (Sambas, high tops), Puma Suede (I love them), Converse Chucks, Reebok Classics, Osiris Bronx, DCs and a load of other skaters, Timberland boots, a pair of Rockport Mweka xcs (for those scally moods), oh and a couple of boxed original Osiris D3 2001s. Gold dust, rare as hen’s teeth. But they they all were piled up, spilled from their boxes interspersed with all my socks. They were mainly white but there were a good number of football socks in there too.
The camera panned out wide and in the corner of the screen there was a light. What’s that? Oh, here we go… The camera panned in and followed the fuse wire burning getting ever closer to the pyre until woosh! It hit it’s target and the whole lot went up in an instant. Woah, some accelerant had to have been used there!
Over the next ten minutes or so the camera panned around, in and out, giving a visceral insight to the destruction unfolding. Crackling leather and varying materials melting and burning at different speeds. Until it finally lingered over the charred mess.
I was unbelievably hard and my mind drifted to the first time I had burned a sneaker.
I was walking home from college and decided to take a different route home through one of the lanes. Over six years of walking the same two miles home had, as you could imagine, become slightly boring. It was all uphill and got steeper towards the end. I mean, how fair is that?
Down a narrow lane, with high hedgerows squeezing the path, something caught my eye. I glanced around, making sure no-one else was behind me; the path bent around to the right in front but I couldn't hear any footsteps.
I pulled the object from the tangled mass of bush. It was an Nike Air Max BW sneaker! My friend had a black pair that I thought were really cool. I always wondered if I was attracted to him but really I just wanted to steal his sneakers and enjoy them.
This one was in really good condition, white with a green Swoosh. It was size 8 which was two sizes too small for me but I quickly stuffed it in to my rucksack and smiled at my good fortune. Just as I was about to zip up the rucksack someone rounded the bend in front of me. I quickly pretended to tie my shoelaces until they had disappeared behind me, before searching for my find’s partner.
But it was nowhere to be found. I wonder how this one sneaker in good condition got here? Maybe some kids had taken it off their mate and hid it? Well, I guess it wasn't his lucky day.
My Dad was out visiting a relative so I got one of my white socks, filled it with newspaper and put it in the trainer so it looked like someone was wearing it. Shaking with excitement I lit the match and set fire to the top of the sock. It was a bit like a candle; the sock slowly burnt and bits dropped off. The anticipation of my first sneaker burning was unbearable!
The first clothing I burnt were socks; I went through a lot of them to be honest. Particularly in the winter months. I'd be upstairs in my bedroom waiting to hear Dad lighting the open fire in the living room. I would go through the sock draw, feeling harder and harder as I worked out which one as likely to go. And then I would have to wait, thinking about how it might burn. Each one reacts so differently depending on the exact blend of materials and how it was stitched.
Later in the afternoon Dad would go out to wash the car or go down to the shops. Once the coast was clear I would take the chosen ‘victim’ downstairs in my pocket, go into the living room and marvel at the raging fire. But I couldn’t spend too long doing that; time was short.
Using the coal prongs to clamp the sock, I’d then pull back the fire guard, and lay the sock into the fire. I alway felt so horny. Mesmerised, I'd stand and watch as it started to smoke and sometime shrink before catching alight and blaze away. I loved the way the flames consumed the sock, leaving a fragile outline; a shrivelled sock shape of nothing. An ephemeral remembrance of something that once was.
But this time the sock wasn’t the part that interested me. The beautiful Nike started to burn, melting and twisting in the heat. I was scared as hell that someone might poke their head over the fence and catch me; I had the hose out on spray mode sort of directed above it so as to keep the smoke down. The acrid fumes filling my senses as the sneaker contorted and blackened until it was unrecognisable as the object it originally was.
Being inexperienced I probably got too close and knocked a couple of years off my life with the black smoke but as i watched the poor kid's sneaker going up I couldn't help but think that he was probably looking for it. I could just imagine his friends saying 'we put it here – where's it gone?' the feeling of panic and confusion they all must be going though.
And there I was, standing there a mile from where I found it, sharing the panic and confusion but also pleasure and fascination. Just what destructive forces had been unleashed today by an innocent prank by some school kids?
I opened my eyes. I was sat in near silence, only the hum of my laptop’s fan providing a soundtrack to prove that time was still moving. It had been like I was there again, all those years ago. I could almost taste the smoke on my lips. I hadn’t thought about Dad for such a long time…
I was so tired; my emotions were crashing around like waves on the shore. Fierce, uncontrolled yet beautiful. There was a line to be drawn from that moment at school to where I was now. A very direct one. Had it always been destined to end this way, with all my clothes and sneakers destroyed?
I was left with just with one white sock. The only remaining link to the life I used to have. The other items I had where other peoples; a mismatched pair of sneakers, a black sock, a pair of briefs, a polo shirt and jeans. And much of that was soaked in my own piss. Was this karma?
But in erasing those links to what used to me I felt freed. How was that possible when I was being controlled and manipulated to this degree? How was I so excited at being left so vulnerable?
My eyes widened and I let out a guttural sound as my cock exploded, sending a fountain of cum into the air. It hit my chin, my nose and splattered across the desk, floor and my laptop. Some of it was even reached in my hair.
*ping* Oh good show!
What the fuck?! How did he know? It could only be the camera in my laptop but how did he hijack it? Oh, school boy error - the USB stick must have had a Trojan Horse on it... I was initially crest fallen at this lapse of security but then suddenly remembered the setting on the device - Chastity! I had beaten his device - yes!
*ping* btw, in case you think you defeated my device, neither mode has been active since you started to watch the first video :-)
*ping* btw part 2 - they are both back on now
*ping* anyway it’s getting late and you have a haircut booked in tomorrow 11am. Better make sure you get those jeans dried. Take the lanyard and earphones with you.
I sighed. I didn’t have a clothes dryer; best get the hairdryer out then.
*ping* and don’t shower again tonight. I want you to sleep with your mess dried on you.
Good boi. I’ll make sure you get up in time. Sleep well.
The alarm function on my phone had been disabled so I guess I didn’t have any choice in trust him. Two hours later at just after 3am the jeans were starting to dry and so it was time for bed. I quickly fell asleep, exhausted and caked in my own dried cum.
Part 5 will be released on the 24th January. Thank you for your emails - you have been oh so very kind :-) Please send feedback to firstname.lastname@example.org. Please support nifty by donating or writing a story. Also check out our website - everythingmustdie.com - if you like male clothes, sneakers and sportswear getting wet messy or destroyed.