Full sensory deprivation required…

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‘The Prisoner’ continues to face the dubious hospitality of ‘The Captor’. In this latest escape challenge, ‘The Prisoner’ finds out that chances of freedom will be literally suspended if he can’t free himself from a roped spreadeagle.

Video link below photos…

#suspended – a bondage movie – part 1 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

Watch more videos like this at https://vimeo.com/heavybondage

Dave had asked me to meet him at the airport; I had arrived In Philly 4 hours before he was scheduled to. This was the vacation that he had hounded me to go on for years. We were out here to meet his parents; he finally was going to introduce me to them as his lover. Our travel agent screwed things up so we ended up on two different flights, arriving at two different times.

By now you are saying ‘OK, we figured out who Dave is, but who are you?’ Well dear reader, my name is Joe: 24, 6’2” 168 slim, trim, fit…All right, so I am a twinkie, but beyond my outward appearance was a darker side that I never had the guts to tell Dave. I wanted to experience a new world full off control, and lack there of. I wanted to experience the feel of synthetics that escalated the very essence of my soul the very way that no normal sexual encounter could. To be held captive in layers of head to toe rubber, where my only connection to the outside world is the soft sting of the straps biting into my skin when I attempt to readjust my sore muscles. I had fantasized about this many times, but up until this point, I had never found the courage to try.

However, as they say, no guts no glory, and guts was an area I was severely deficient in. My online friends teased me about it all the time, flaunting their exploits in my face like waving food in front of a starving child. What was I doing about it? Nothing, a small collection of rubber gloves that I kept hidden in the shed out back, and every once in a while I would creep into Dave’s Shop and play with the Scott respirator that he used for heavy painting jobs. It was sad, Pitiful really. I mean I loved Dave, and knew that I could spend a Vanilla relationship with him for the rest of my life… However, before I did, I needed some chocolate.

John was just the person I needed, He said he had a lot of gear, but then again so did everyone else I chatted with online. He was different though, non-commanding, laid back, defiantly not your typical hardcore whip me spank me type that I had grown so tired of in the online chat rooms of late. John had said that his interest was keeping me in my gear, rather than stripping me out of it once he had me in his command like so many others that I had spoken with. That was about all I knew about him. I wanted it that way, and so did he. It added a level of pure intensity to the meeting.

We had discussed the plan in-depth online, up until the part where I would hand full control to him. John had no picture posted in his profile, only a shadowy picture of a corner of his playroom showing lots of rubber gear. Now one would think that this would send red flags waving violently, but this fact only made the fantasy more intense for me. I was about to have my dreams come true: Taken by someone I do not know, in a town I am not familiar with, and nobody knows where I am going. Oh yeah, and did I mention, I had not cum for two weeks because Dave had been very busy at work getting ready for the vacation. It was needless to say, my brain had long since slipped into my shorts.

I slipped the instruction sheet, which John had given me online, out of the pocket of my carryon, as I gathered up my bags in the airport. I headed over to the rental car counter and concentrated on keeping my hand from shaking as I handed the woman across the counter my visa card. The only thing she had left was a 1980’s two-tone ford rust-bucket. I told her that it really did not matter as she handed me the keys.

It took me fifteen minutes to locate the POS, and load my bags into the back. Driving through the unfamiliar streets I finally found what I was looking for. ‘Lets see’, I said to myself as I read my scrawled instructions off the sheet, ‘right at the corner of Pine and Blanchard, second house on the left. Park in the carport out back.’ I was finally here, pulling the car into the open space next to a black Ducati, I quickly scanned the rest of the instructions and stuffed the sheet back in the pocket of my backpack, and then I stuffed the bag out of sight on the passenger floor.

After I made sure that the car was locked, I slipped the keys into my pocket and headed towards the stairs leading up to the back door. I rang the buzzer quickly three times, per John’s instructions. I heard some banging around in the home for a minute or two, and then finally the door opened.

I was not prepared for the sight that awaited me behind the opened door. Here stood a head to toe skintight rubber that accentuated his heavily muscled frame. He wore black leather knee high boots that begged the shine that only saliva could bring. His head was covered in a hooded full-face respirator with tented lenses that completely obscured his identity. “Yes?” he said nonchalantly, like I was a neighbor just popping by to barrow a cup of sugar.

“John?” I asked with a bit of trepidation.

“Yes, and you must be Joe. Come on in.” he motioned with his hand invitingly.

I heard the door close behind me as I walked into the Kitchen. I had gotten no more than ten feet in when he reached around from behind me, leaned his head on my shoulder, and gave me a deep hug. The smell of his latex clad body sent my mind into overdrive. “John, I…” I could feel my brow start to dampen and my pace flush, as my cock was starting to salute this man’s efforts. “…I… I mean, please remember I have only about two hours before I have to start heading back to the airport.” I managed to gasp out in-between the heavy panting that had set in.

“Not to worry my young rubber pup.” He replied. “I don’t wish to scare you off, I figured we could just chat, and I could show you some of my gear.” With every syllable, a small puff of latex laden air would escape from the port on his mask and right into my face.

“I would love to see some of your gear.” I replied with my eyes closed, attempting to keep myself under control.

With that he broke the embrace, leaving me standing there feeling like I was left hanging in the moment. I turned around slowly, in a daze, to see where he had gotten off to, only to find him standing at an open doorway with stairs leading down. “So then, your first test of courage….” He said motioning down the stairs, “…Is to follow me down the rabbit hole, Alice.”

I giggled slightly, and figured what the hell, I was already here, and there was no harm in seeing his gear, since we really did not have time to get too in depth into anything. Stepping past him, I started down the stairs with him right behind me. I realized, as I got about halfway down the long staircase, the closer we got to the bottom, the more pungent the smell of rubber was becoming. Upon reaching the landing, I was greeted by a small empty concrete room. A large metal door adorned one wall. John walked past me, pulled a set of keys out from some unknown pocket, and unlocked the four deadbolts on the door.

As the door swung open, we entered a room with the floor and walls covered in white tiling. A stainless steel exam table was bolted to the floor in the center, and a gurney with a bright orange mattress was covered in straps in one corner. I noticed, as we walked across the room to a set of double doors, that the floor slanted on all four sides, to a drain situated in the center, and the eyebolts that I noticed embedded into the ceiling beams above left me wondering what kind of tortures had played out here in the past.

I was quickly brought back to reality as John placed a gloved hand on my shoulder and motioned for me to open the doors, and I will tell you now that I was not prepared for what awaited me behind them. It was a large walk in closet, and deep, stuffed with racks upon racks of black latex. The smell was a sensory overpowering mix of rubber, sweat, piss, and cum. “Go ahead,” I could hear John say from behind me, “Your welcome to take something down if you would like.”

I was like a kid in a candy store as I reached out for the gloved sleeve end of an all-encompassing suit that sat on the rack before me. It was beautiful, apart from the attached gloves; it also had booties, a cock and ball sheath, and an attached hood. I let the soft material slide back and forth through my fingers, as my dick grew ever larger within the confines of my Levis. Looking sheepishly over my shoulder, I lifted the suit up to my nose and took in a deep breath of its sweet and heady aroma.

John walked up next to me and took the suit out of my hands, “Ah,” a raspy sound of excitement emanated through the speech diaphragm on the mask as his head tilted slightly to the side as if he were viewing me in a whole new light. “I see you have good taste, this is very similar to the suit I am wearing, with a few minor modifications of course. Would you like to try it on?”

I hesitated a bit, my instilled morals were brawling with my libido, and I was not sure which way to turn. I did not know what to say, I panicked “I would love to John… “ I replied in an attempt to sound sincere, “… but, we really have to watch the time, Dave and I have been having some problems recently, and I’m afraid that he would drop me like a bad habit if I fucked this up and didn’t meet him at the airport on time. I know it sounds shallow, but his parents will be waiting for us, and their opinion means the world to him. I wish to make sure that I do whatever I can to make him happy.”

“Very noble.” John replied as he removed the suit from its hanger.

“Yea, I try.” I replied sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.

“So what’s in it for you?” he asked slipping the hanger back onto the rack.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. You sound like you spend your life trying to make him happy. You have already told me that he isn’t a part of the world that you were born into, and he has no interest in fulfilling your ‘sick’ desires, so one again, what’s in it for you?”

I faltered a bit on that answer. This was something that I had asked myself for a long time; what was in it for me? “Companionship, “I finally replied. “ Someone to be there for you emotionally. Someone to grow old with. Someone who cares.”

“What about love, compatibility, and complete submission?” He said as he started slowly unzipping the suit.

“No disrespect meant, John, but I think you’re living in a bit of a dream world. Love fades after time, and turns into comfort and contentment. As for complete submission, I do not believe it is possible. Life has a way of eventually butting its nose in and ruining the fantasy.”

“Perhaps, “he replied as he handed me back the now open suit. “ But for the next two hours I think I can guarantee that we won’t be interrupted.”

“John, I really don’t have the time…”

“You have two hours,” He replied handing be a bottle of Eros, “Why not at least satiate your need to wear latex gear before you shackle yourself into a vanilla life for the next fifty or so years? I promise we will not get into any in depth ‘Play’, I just wish to help you experience a taste.”

A smile slowly crept across my face, as I could feel my cheeks start to burn. I really wanted to try the suit on, and everything else in this room I could get my hands on. Finally, I said fuck it. John was right, I deserved to fulfill my fetish at least once in life, and Dave would never be the wiser, so why shouldn’t I?

I set the suit and lube down on a bench that sat in the middle of the closet, as I stripped off every piece of my clothing. My dick was thrilled to be out of the confines of its denim prison, and was currently standing fully engorged in anticipation. I opened up the top of the bottle of Eros, and liberally spread the cold wet substance all over the front of my body. As I was doing this, John walked up from behind me, poured some of the lube into his gloved hands, and began to spread it across my back. The feel of his latex gloves across my bare skin sent waves of pure electricity down my spine, as a string of pre-cum headed towards the floor. Johns hand slipped slowly down to my penis, as he spend a few minutes making sure that the lube was thoroughly massaged into the skin at the head of my dick.

He brought me to the edge or orgasm, and them stopped leaving me standing there breathing hard, wanting him to finish what he started. My hands moved down to my penis and I began to pleasure myself. John immediately pulled my hands back, and said, “Not yet boy, the best part is yet to come.” He reached down to the bench, picked the suit back up, and handed it to me

I sat down to give myself better advantage to try to figure out how to squeeze myself into this thing. I got a quick shock from the ice-cold bench against my bare lubed flesh. Opening up the back of the suit, I slipped my legs into the enclosed feet. The slipperiness of the lube caused the suit to slide up my legs with relative ease, as my feet popped into the attached booties on the end. Felling the loving grip of the latex against my body, I could no longer control the shakes that had threatened to take over my senses. Once I had slid the suit up to by hips, I fumbled for a bit to get my engorged member into the attached sleeve on the front of the suit. John chuckled a bit as he grabbed my cock and balls, perhaps a little less gently than he could have, slid them expertly into the attacked sheath, and then produced a small rubber ring that he slid over the whole mess ensuring that my dick was now trapped in a rubber prison, and not going anywhere.

Slipping around behind me, he told me to put my arms down the sleeve holes, as he pulled the rest of the suit up my chest. My hands slid slowly down the rubber tubes, and popped snugly into the attached gloves at the end. I could feel something solid lying against my ass on the interior of the suit. I did not have to ask what that item could potentially be for; I looked up at him with concern. “I cannot take dildo’s, John, I have never derived any pleasure from anal, only pain.”

“Not to worry boy, it can lay where it is for the moment.” He replied as he pulled the suit up over my shoulders and started the zipper slowly up the center of my back. As the zip reached my shoulders, he reached around and grabbed the attached hood. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“”Yes.” Was all I could manage to reply. My nervous system was in overload, and my dick was straining to prove that it could fill the entirety of the large sheath that held it.

John poured a liberal about of the lube into his hands and began to spread it through my hair, and across my face. His gloved hand worked its way slowly around my lips and then forced its way into my mouth. I was once again on the edge of orgasm as I greedily sucked every drop of lube from his rubber-covered fingers. “Good boy.” He said as he slapped me on the ass, and then proceeded to pull the hood up over my head. It took him a moment to situate the eye, nose, and mouth holes properly before pulling the zipper the rest of the way up the back of my head. He pressed gently against my ears, forcing two little nubs attached to the hood, deeply into my ear canals.

“Can you hear me boy?” he asked, he voice sounded as if it were inside my head.

“Yes.” I replied.

“Good, your earplugs are attached to the microphone in my mask. In that suit, the only thing you will hear is my voice.” He said as he stroked the side of my head with his gloved hand.

I could not believe it, I was sealed in, my hands felt their way across my slick body, and then over to John’s. I was no longer myself. I knew this for sure when I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that sat in one corner of the room, and saw the man I always wished to be staring back at me. I no longer had any interest in controlling myself. It was as if being sealed in this rubber suit had released a part of me that I had locked away for so long. Without saying a word, I immediately dropped to my knees and began to polish John’s boots. My tongue began at his toes as I worked to shine every inch. I did not stop until I was finished with both boots, only pausing for a bit to work on a particularly difficult spot of mud by the heel.

Once I was satisfied that I couldn’t have done any better, I looked upwards towards John’s face only to have my vision obscured by his hard on raging within its sheath. He reached down gently and stroked my latex clad head. I exhaled in exuberating as I closed my eyes and rubbed my head back against his hand, much like a cat would. I loved the attention, and I wished him to know this.

I pushed myself back up onto my knees, and took his encased penis into my mouth. Teasing the head with my tongue a bit, I found that there was a hole in the end, right over his piss slit, and the mixed taste of latex, sweat and man juice residue sent my mind reeling.

John put both hands against my head and pushed me back. “You start that boy, and you will defiantly not make it to the airport on time, I promise you that.”

“Sorry, “ I replied as I stood back up, “I kind of got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

“No need to apologize, “ I heard him chuckle from beneath the mask, “Enthusiasm is appreciated here.” I smiled sheepishly back at him as I placed my gloved hand in my face and breathed in the aromas once more. “In fact I have something very special here that I think you would appreciate.” He said as he headed over to the corner of the closet and opened an old looking wooden crate.

I followed him over to the box, and looked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large mass of shiny white latex that was bound with straps so it ended up looking like a kinky birthday gift. “What is that?” I asked with anticipation.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” He replied as he handed the heavy bundle to me. Not really sure what to so with the object, I sat back down on the bench, carefully as not to impale myself on the phallus that was threatening to invade my rectum, and began to undo the straps. The suit that unfurled before me was like nothing that I could have ever imagined. To say that the rubber was thick would have been an understatement, as I suddenly realized the need for the strapping to store it. The rubber was so heavy that it was determined to extend to full shape by itself. Like the suit I wore now, it also had attached booties, but that is where the similarities ended. As this suit has attached fingerless mitts, and a gasmask where the face should be; even without someone in it, it looked like an alien creature. This of course would have been enough, but what really stopped me in my tracks was the work ‘Slave’ imprinted in black across the chest of the suit.

I was speechless, and John must have noticed this. “I have noticed that you are very turned on by scents, as am I. This suit has held many a captive, and it has never once been deodorized after it was used. In fact, the inside should still be nice and slimy from the last boy it contained.”

“Excuse me? I said with a start

“Go ahead,” he replied, “Try it on.”

I let the suit drop to the floor and slid down the bench away from it, “Uh, I really don’t think so, John, That’s really not my cup of tea.”

“That wasn’t a request boy.” The friendliness had all but faded out of his voice as he removed a small black box with red buttons on its face, from a shelf next to him.

“Jon, look I…” That was about all that I got out before a heavy wave of pain shot through my balls. I screamed out and dropped to my knees with both hands over my crotch.
Looking slowly back up at John I noticed that his finger was poised over one of the red buttons on the box. “I guess I forgot to tell you that there are electrical pads inside the ball sack of that suit. You just experienced the system on its low setting, do I need to ask you again?”

“No please,” I pleaded as I got back to me feet, “John, really….” This time the shock was much worse, as I collapsed back on the floor curled into the fetal position. It took me some time to recover from this most recent jolt. Tears were running out of the eyeholes on the mask and streaking down my rubber skin. “Ok, please no more “ I said quietly as I slowly pushed myself back onto the bench, and reached for the suit. I was not sure what I had gotten myself into, but I knew that it was not good. I could not bring myself to look him in the face. I felt stupid for placing myself in this situation in the first place, and I cursed my cock as it continued to pulsate painfully in enjoyment of this torment.

I carefully undid the zip on the suit, sliding it from the top of the head all the way, down to where it stopped in-between the legs. Opening the suit up, I was immediately assaulted by the strong odors emanating from its depths. It was a sweat mix of sweat, piss, cum, and fear, and I was about to become one with all the boys who had been confined within its recesses in the past. John was telling the truth when he said that it would still be slimy. I did not need t use any of the lube to get this one on. My feet slid easily into the inky blackness of the legs of the suit. Once my feet found the pockets made for them at the end of the legs, John grabbed the mass out of my hands. “Stand up.” He commanded, and as I wobbled to my feet, he wrenched upwards violently almost lifting me off the floor.

The suit slid up over my hips, and with a bit of trepidation, because I did not wish to be zapped again, I placed my hands into the arm openings. John once again pulled hard on the thick suit as my hands popped into the enclosed sleeve ends. My fingers were enclosed within their own sheaths inside the mitt ends of the suit, rendering my hands useless. “Open your mouth,” he commanded as he lifted the attached gas mask hood towards my face. As the hood slid over my head, I could feel an internal gag press against my lips. A minor zap coursed through my nuts making me gasp slightly, which was just enough for him to shove the gag home. The gag filled my mouth, I could taste the sweat that had covered it in the past.

With a quick motion, he had the zipper done up, and a small click let me know that not only was I now sealed in, but locked too. I was completely at his mercy. “One more adjustment” I could hear him say as he grabbed the solid plug at my ass, through both layer of rubber gear, and jammed it home. I screamed out in pain, only to be effectively muted by the gag filling my mouth.

John walked around me admiring his handy work. “See boy, I told you that you would like my gear,” He said as he patted me on the head. “I just can’t help thinking that something is missing though.” John walked back over to the wooden box, and removed another mass of heavy white rubber. As he unfurled it before me, it revealed itself as a straightjacket just dripping with straps. The word ‘Slave’ was also printed on the front of this, in large black lettering. I grunted in surprise into the gag, and backed away in fear only to find the bench behind me. Loosing my balance, I landed on my butt on the bench driving the uncomfortable plug even deeper into my hole, and John was on top of me before I could react..

“Oh, no, ” He said as he opened the jacket before me. “ We cannot have you leaving before you are fully dressed, now can we? Put your arms out or face the consequences.”

I did not know what to do, I lifted my arms up and watched in fear as he slid the straightjacket onto my body and began to buckle it up the back. He pulled every strap as tight as he could. The jacket acted like a kind of a corset, slowly crushing my torso more and more with every tug. Once he was finished, he walked back around me to view his handy-work. John slowly ran his hands across my chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in the rubber gear. His every touch sent mixed emotions of fear and arousal coursing through my mind. Perhaps he would have stopped too, if my fucking cock had not betrayed me by drooling for more out of the hole at the end of the sheath that contained it.

As soon as he was satisfied that the rubber was in place, he moved back behind me and grabbed the strap ends of the arms of the straightjacket. I am not sure what came over me at that moment, but I was determined that I would not end up completely at this person’s mercy, and so I fought. I pulled back hard with my elbows, and caught him square in the solar plexus. This desperate motion caught him off guard, and quickly and efficiently dropped him to the floor affording me the opportunity to try to get away. I carefully made my way out of the walk-in closet area, being very careful as the lube in between the first and second suit made each step a potential disaster.

Making my way slowly across the room, I finally reached the door. I realized only then, to my horror, that John had dead bolted it behind us as we entered the room. The reality of the situation finally sunk in. I was in deep shit, and he held all the cards. Slowly turning around, to face my fate, I saw John leaning against the doorjamb of the closet silently clapping. “And what shall you be doing for you next trick, Mr. Houdini?” He asked as he lifted his right hand and showed me the electrical remote.

I dropped to me knees, and waived my hands in the air pleading furiously, into the gag, for him not to use it on me. John just laughed as he slowly walked towards me sending short jolts to my nuts to emphasize what he had to say. “Like a deer caught in headlights.”

<Zap>

“You are not in control anymore.”

<Zap>

“And if there is one thing that your tortured mind remembers boy…”

<Zap>

As he got nearer, the tone in his voice turned darker, “…NEVER…”

<Zap>

“…FUCK…”

<Zap>

“…WITH…”

<Zap>

“…ME!”

<ZZZZZZAAAAAAPPPPPP>

He held the button in for about a minute, as he stood over me and watched me writhe in agony on the floor pawing at my nuts with my imprisoned hands in a futile attempt to make it stop.

Eventually he let go of the button, leaving me panting on the floor drenched in sweat, and ready to do just about anything he asked so as to not experience that again. John walked over to a red and black rolling tool cart that sat to the right of the door. Opening one of its many drawers, he removed a long black hose. Before I knew it, he was kneeling by my side and screwing the end of the hose into the side of the gas mask. “We are going to try a different motivator boy, as I don’t particularly care for damaged goods.” He held the end of the hose up to the lenses on my mask, and showed me that the hose had a metal valve at the end. He reached up and twisted the end of the valve with his thumb and forefinger, and it did not take me long to figure out what its function was. For as I tried to draw my next breath, the mask sucked tightly against my face driving the gag down my throat, and making me choke.

I shook my head furiously back and forth, and tried to remove the hose by clamping the mitts together against it and pulling feverishly. It was to no avail, the material was strong, and the connection to my mask even stronger. It was not going anywhere. John grabbed me by the throat and slid me back against the metal door. He leaned in towards me until his face was only inches away from the mask. “Listen to me.” He commanded, but I was too deep in a blind panic to listen. He slammed my head hard into the door behind me, which dazed me a bit, but brought me out of my panic. “Listen to me boy, and listen to me well. This is going to happen one way or the other, whether you like it or not. How we proceed from here is completely up to you. If you choose to calm down and cooperate, then I will allow you a bit of air, if not then I will wait till you are unconscious before I proceed. The choice is yours.”

My eyes must have been as large as saucers, as I could not believe the situation that I found myself in. The edges of my vision were starting to grey letting me know that this was not something that I had long to contemplate. I decided since I had no idea what this mad planned to do with me, that I would rather be conscious. “Air!” I grunted weakly, as a tear of defeat ran down my face.

John lifted the valve back in front of my face and slowly opened it. My lungs filled with the precious air, and I greedily sucked down every ounce I could get. He quickly closed the valve again and raised a finger in front of my face. “Slow down boy, its time for you to learn some basic control. Now, I am going to let you have some more air, but this time I want you to take three deep breaths, and then hold it. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head, and he let me have more air. Following his directions, I inhaled deeply three times and then held my breath. John quickly closed the valve again. “Now,” he said as he stood back up. “You are going to survive on only what is in your lungs until we get those arms secured.” He stated frankly, as he motioned for me to stand up. “So I suggest that you hurry.” Pushing myself to my feet as quickly as I could, I turned my back on him and placed my arms across my chest. “Good boy.” I could hear him say as he secured my arms.

He checked the straps to make sure they were secure, and then walked away from me without reopening my airway. I grunted loudly into the gag, but he just ignored me as he took his keys from his pocket and proceeded to open a metal door that sat to the right of the gear closet. As the door swung open, I could see that every part of the room: the walls, floor, ceiling, and the inside of the door were all covered in some sort of black padding.

He motioned for me to join him. I padded my way as quickly, and safely, across the floor as I could. As I reached his side, he reopened the air valve. I gulped down glorious amounts of the precious oxygen, as I took in the room that lay before me. The best description for it would be a padded cell. It wan an approximately ten-foot by twelve-foot room that was heavily padded. The slab on the inside of the door alone had to have been at least two feet thick. As I took in the room all I could think was that this place would not only effectively keep someone from hurting themselves, but the insulation most likely left it pretty sound proof as well. As mesmerized as I was by the room, what truly drew my attention was the bed that sat up against the far wall. It was covered in leather straps, obviously designed to hold someone and not let them go.

“So here is what is going to happen boy,” John’s voice echoed through the plugs in my ears. “In a moment I am going to turn off your air. You are going to go lay on that bed. You are to lay very still, no matter what happens.” I struggled futility a bit against the grip of the straightjacket, to no avail. John reached up and grabbed me by the chin “Don’t test me boy, the electricity has been turned up to its highest setting. You do not want to experience that while not being able to breathe. Listen to the voice of experience, boy, no one has ever screamed more than once.”

Now I will tell you what, I grew up in the inner city. I had been held up at knifepoint, had my house broken into, I had followed President Shrub’s Weapons of mass distraction into Iraq, and I have had insurgents shooting at me. However, this shit was starting to freak me out. John had stripped control from me physically, and now he is doing it mentally. I had no choices, only which way was going to harm me less. I had a lot of respect for this man, not admiration mind you, but respect. None of this, however, changed the fact that I would rip his throat out the first chance I got.

“You have the look of blood in your eyes, boy.” He chuckled softly, “No worries though, that can easily be trained out long before you ever get the chance to act on those thoughts.” With that, my air once again ceased. Knowing what I had to do, I quickly made my way across the small room. This was no little feat, let me tell you, as the combination of the lube swirling around my booted feet, and the fact that I sank a good six inches into the rubber-coated padding on the floor every time I took a step, I could hardly retain my balance on the way there.

Reaching the bed, I laid down as quickly as I could, and centered myself hoping that my compliance would get the air turned back on John followed slowly behind me and positioned my legs a bit before locking restraints on them. I noticed as he was applying the cuffs around my calved and thighs, that I had seen these before. It was in a bondage catalog that I had had in my collection for a few years. They were made by a company called Humane Restraints who made secure restraints for mental institutions. The difference was that these were specially made for the fetish community, for rather than being brown and tan, which are the standard hospital colors; these restraints were black and white. The cuffs locked on with a single push of a button, and could not be removed without the use of a special key. On the sides of the cuffs, there is a metal tab, usually used to run a strap through to secure it. John had found a different use, as the metal tab was anchored deeply within the rubber-coated padding on the bed rendering the cuff stationary and the limb trapped inside, immobile.

As he locked the final restraint around my leg, he sat down on my pelvis, and watched me squirm a bit for air. My rubber clad dick just barely brushed his ass, and the reverberation of the rubber on rubber contact sent my head reeling. Slowly he reached down between his legs, and undid the zipper at his crotch, just slightly, before stuffing the end of my breathing tube in there. The next breath I took was one of pure rubberman, the mix of rubber, sweat, piss, and man musk was almost more than I could handle. If that was not enough, John then reached off the side of the bed, to a box I had not seen before, and pulled out a cotton ball. He stuffed this too into the pouch at his crotch and re fastened the zipper snug against my breathing tube. A wave of poppers slammed my senses from all directions. I began to pump my hips, which caused my cock to bump repeatedly off the latex barrier that guarded his awaiting hole.

A shock arced through my balls causing me to convulse for a moment. “Now that’s a bit presumptuous of you boy. He said, as he smacked me on the chest, “Time to take care of that.” With that, John leaned upwards towards the top of the bed, and pulled two long straps back down my chest towards my crotch. “You see boy, this is a Simpson racing harness. It is made to withstand high speed crashes.” As he spoke, he fed the two upper belts under my straightjacketed arms, and connected them with a clasp to two straps that fell right across the pelvic bone. “Now you will like this part,” He continued as he climbed off me, making sure my air hose did not slip from his crotch, and fed two straps up from in-between my legs. “You see, these are called submarine straps, they are designed to keep you from slipping out from under the restraint, and the thing I like about them is that they hold you dick and balls in place nicely.”

I looked down, and realized that he wasn’t kidding, even if I wasn’t rock hard at the moment, the two straps were fed uncomfortably close on each side, forming a v shape that kept the jewels fully accessible at all times.

“Now I will give you your choice, “ John said as he stood over me. “ If you wish to cooperate, I will place your arms in a much more comfortable position. If not, then they can just stay strapped to your chest, which should start getting pretty sore in the shoulder area pretty soon. So what do you think? Are you going to be a good boy?”

I nodded lazily through the haze floating through me. My cock was pulsating in beat with the poppers in my brain, I was not going to argue with anything, as long as the trips final destination was one of sweet release. John pushed me up against the straps covering my chest, as he reached behind me and undid the arms of the jacket. He laid me back down and grabbed my right wrist. Reaching into the box on the floor, he pulled out a thickly padded posey fist mitt, and slid it onto the end of my arm and locked it in place. Doing the same with my left arm, John then positioned both mitts with the metal tab side down, and pushed the tabs firmly, into two slits in the mattress on either side of me, until he heard an audible click.

“Test them.” He said, as I pulled back as hard as I could, in my current state, only to find them firmly in place. He then fiddled with something underneath the bed, and the racing harness pulled so tight that I sank deeply into the top of the padding on the bed. He then finished locking restraints around my lower arms and biceps. I was rendered immobile.

Wrenching the air hose out of his crotch, he tossed it on me and left the room without a word. As the poppers slowly wore off, I began to become more and more aware of the dire circumstances of the situation that I was in. Relax, I told myself, John would have known that this kind of thing turns me on just by reading the stories that I have posted with my online profile. He is just trying to fulfill my fantasy, and we are most likely still well within the time I had allotted, so just relax and enjoy. You know what, I did too. At least for a little bit until John reappeared in the doorway with a metal bucket and my backpack in hand.

“Let’s see what we got here shall we?” John said as he dug through my bag. “As a boy I could understand you needing identification, and these plane tickets. However, your sleepwear clearly states ‘Slave’ across the front so no one can mistake it. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t believe a slave is entitled to an identity, and I don’t believe your behavior today warrants the privilege of travel.”

I pulled hard against the restraints and screamed into my gag as he tossed my wallet and plane tickets into the metal bucket. Yet John pretended not to hear me as he continued emptying out the contents of my backpack.

“And what do we have here, “ He asked as he pulled my Zippo and spare bottle of ronsinal. “ Oh dear, I am afraid that I will have to put my foot down on this one too, as slaves definitely shouldn’t smoke.” With that, he stuffed the rest of the contents of my backpack into the bucket, poured the bottle of ronsinal over it, and lit it all up with the Zippo before tossing that in too.

The crackling flames of my life danced in the reflection of John’s mask making him look inherently evil. He stood there for a minute or two allowing the fire to consume as much as possible before unzipping his crotch and urinating on it until it was out. Picking up the bucket, he sloshed its contents around a bit before tossing the urine and ash mixture over me. “That’s what I think of your past slave, and in a few months you will feel the same. This bedroom has been empty for so long, but I am allowing you the honor to serve me, now and forever.” I screamed a string of endless profanities into the gag, only to be answered with a bolt of electricity through my nuts. “Ah, yes. I understand that you may not agree with me now, but I think if we work real hard on this concept that you will start to see things my way in about six months or so.”

With that, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, throwing me into absolute darkness. I could hear two deadbolts being fastened on the door. I was in some crazy rubberman’s basement, locked behind two heavy metal doors, in a city that was foreign to me, no one knew where I was, and hardly anyone would care.

One-half of me could not figure out what the fuck I had gotten myself into, and the other half could not wait to find out.

I want my mummy…

All of these images were found on the internet. Credit must be given to the creators of these images. If any of these images belong to you and you would like them removed then please contact me via this blog.

‘The Prisoner’ continues to face the dubious hospitality of ‘The Captor’. In this latest escape challenge, ‘The Prisoner’ finds out that chances of freedom have been literally suspended…

#suspended – a bondage movie – part 2 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

I was left here alone, barely able to move, hooded, in pitch black, with only my thoughts, my own mind, to keep me company; I began to reassess all that I had been through. In less than a day my situation had been transformed from one form of captivity to another.

John had very calculatedly, one-by-one, taken away all of my defenses that I had built up against my own desires. Even now as I fought against my bonds I could feel every sob, every terrified whimper drop me deeper into the submission I have craved for so long.

I strained against the straps that held me tightly to the deep padding in the darkened corner of the cell. My only bearings upon anything but the darkness was a single air vent above the doorway that sent a stream of light across the room splashing against the floor only feet away from the shadowy corner that held me captive.

I had a very limited field of vision as the racing harness that held my shoulders down rendered me unable to lift my head too far off the bed, and the walls of the room being black made judging distances in the dark next to impossible. I did my best to get a survey of the room, to figure out what else resided in here besides me.

In the distance, beyond the foot of my bed, beyond even the beam of light, hung something I hadn’t noticed before. It appeared to be a harness of some sort like climbers wear, yet much more fortified, and something hung above it… I was not able to make it out through the darkness beyond the light, but it appeared to be a helmet of some sort, suspended in the air…

I spent a few more minutes straining my eyes, and tilting my head in all angles in an attempt to figure out what this contraption was. Finally with a high pitched growl I slammed my head back into the padding in frustration I drifted off in to the light, while chewing nervously on the gag in anticipation of John’s return.

Fear, Trepidation, and nicotine withdraw ripped my mind apart. That beam of light gave my something to focus on, something real and tangible against the blackness of my surroundings that threatened to overtake me at any moment. I can’t explain why, but through every shiver, and every frustrated grunt against the gag in my mouth, I figured as long as I focused upon that beam of light that I could hold it together.

The odor of the charred remains of my life soaked in urine still wafted through the port on my mask with every inhalation. I realized, as I looked at the impermeable PVC type material which covered the walls and the bed in this room that I would be laying in the puddle for as long as he wished me to.

Every time the smell would streak across my tortured mind I would be reminded of him pissing on my life, taking it all away, leaving me in fear all alone in this dark world, with no hope, no salvation, and no one to hear me scream. My mind travelled down “what-if” scenarios… With this gag in my mouth, and no way for me to remove it, what if I got nauseous? With me locked in the room and no one knowing where I was, what if something happened to John?

What if John wasn’t playing? What if he intended to keep me? What if my old life actually was over?

Every time I began down these thought paths I would grunt in to my gag and shake my head violently, in an attempt to clear my head, making sure I reminded myself that the only way of survival was not to give in to panic. I was the only one I could count on now; He could only take what I would give him. I could not give him that upper hand… I would not.

I needed to take this as it came, he would be counting on me to let go eventually. Yet my survival counted on me holding on to what I had. An outside observer to my situation would venture to ask what it was I hoped to hold on to… Locked down in an unknown location, by an unknown assailant, with unknown motivations.

I decided then, as I fought the realizations of my situation that I would grasp on to the one thing he could not take. That one shred… Hope, strength, individuality… No matter what he did to me, what hell he brought upon me, as long as I held on to a tiny shred he would never win… He could never possess me…

God I hoped I was right.

* * * * * * * * * *

I had no idea how long I had been sealed within my rubber tomb, be it hours or days, as John had only entered the cell once since he captured me within his web. He returned shortly after my initial incarceration, hauling in hardware and tools, for the purpose of, as he ominously called it: “Wiring me for sound”.

As he made his way slowly across the padded floor, with a mass of wires slung over his rubberized shoulder, discussing topics of behavioral modification, I suddenly understood what it was he meant to do.

“In order to scrawl new material upon the blackboard of your soul we must first erase what others have written.” He said as he dumped his load on my chest and headed out once again leaving me on edge and shaking violently. I strained my head as far as I could to see if I could figure out his plans for me…

All-in-all, in hindsight, I wish I hadn’t.

I had not previously paid that close of attention to all of the features of this suit as I was being forced in to it, for if I had I would have noticed the button connections littering the outside just awaiting their mating with the electrical wires that currently laid upon my torso.

He returned with other boxes and container holding lord knows what manner of objects. I had finally had enough, this was no fun anymore and he had no business keeping me here against my will. I yelled, I screamed, I demanded. Profanities laced the diatribe that issued from my mouth, it was powerful, concise and to the point.

Yet my spirits only dropped further when I realized upon hearing myself that the large gag relegated my intelligent arguments in to nothing but guttural gibberish. I yelled in frustration at the object in my mouth, and then focused all of my attention towards bypassing its hold.

First I tried biting down on it with my front teeth and opening the sides of my mouth wider so I could speak around it; the soft gel like center of the gag only spread to compensate for the new open space I had formed. I then attempted to slide it to one side of my mouth only to realize since it was anchored in to the mask, and my face was sealed into the nose cup of the mask, that it wasn’t budging.

Issuing a muffled cry of frustration against the gag I began shaking my head violently from side to side in a feudal last ditch attempt to dislodge it. This only caused me to smack the edge of the mask against the bed, and driving the intruder deeper, back into my gag reflex.

I stopped thrashing instantly, closed my eyes, and breathed deep. Concentrating on calming down the potentially disastrous spasm that had began in the back of my throat. Although I did gag a few times, after a few deep breaths I regained control, and sank back in to the padding with a relieved sigh.

Once I had fully regained my composure I finally reopened my eyes only to be startled by John’s masked face sitting scant inches away from mine, his head cocked slightly to the side watching me recover from my ordeal.

He cupped my chin within his gloved hand. As I tried shaking him off, his grasp tightened. “What did we learn?” he asked coldly.

I just stared at him. Left immobile and speechless, with no other way to communicate all the things I wanted to say to him, I just funneled everything to my eyes, hoping they would convey the anger and frustration that currently burned within me.

John just chuckled as he undid the zipper at my crotch. He reached in and liberated my rubber-covered member which promptly became a traitor to my cause as it greeted his hand halfway. A horny groan escaped from behind my gag as my head fell against the bed in expectant ecstasy.

Stroking my cock a bit he began to speak again “I have to say that you have admirable traits: strength, defiance, determination, ambition, individuality…”; He trailed off as he suddenly sank his fingernails in to the head of my dick causing me to scream in to the gag and causing my erection to go running for the hills. “… I look forward to taking each and every one of them from you like plucking the wings from a fly; one-by-one, until you are permanently grounded.”

He slipped a metal cage over my flaccid dick and cinched a band down around the base of my cock, behind my balls. “This should keep you company, and help you in some hard decisions you are bound to have. Now I would attempt to control yourself if I were you, as if any of those spikes on the interior of that cage pierce the rubber on the sheath of that undersuit you have on… I will take it out of your ass.”

I heard the faint click of a lock and then John slid my imprisoned member back in to the suit, zipped it up, and locked that zipper as well. A few hard pats right on my crotch after it was locked caused my dick to vibrate against the spiky nubs surrounding my tender flesh. I began concentrating on non sexual thoughts, as I did not wish to meet those spikes the hard way any time soon.

Reaching behind him he grabbed a few objects and laid them to rest upon my chest: A filter, a glass jar containing cotton balls, and a small brown glass bottle. Now even though I was unaware of what the substance in the bottle was, it did not take a rocket scientist to figure out how those three objects pieced together to include a bound figure wearing a gasmask.

My brain began to reel, unable to communicate it him, I could not tell him every bit of trepidation and fear that was raised by this concept…

‘Besides my cigarettes, which you have already removed from me I have never done drugs in my life, you have me completely at your mercy and under your control. Please leave me the one thing I have left… Not my mind John, don’t play with my fucking mind!’

…But I couldn’t, I was unable to communicate anything, and what stayed trapped in my mind no matter how concise of an argument it was, did me no good what so ever. Grunts and dirty looks were not going to stop him or even slow him from anything he had in mind. So I did the next logical thing that came to me.

I began screaming “no” into my gag; the edges of my voice were beginning to crack and fray from the frustrated helplessness that was overtaking me. I shook my head as well, figuring if the port on my mask didn’t stay still, screwing that filter in would be next to impossible.

John just calmly gathered the three objects from my chest, slowly walked up to the head of the bed and sat them down in the upper corner one by one patiently and meticulously as if preparing for an operation, before wrapping his hands around my throat.

My trepidation levels shot through the roof, at first I thought he was finally trying to kill me until I realized I was still able to breathe. He was not applying pressure to the front of my neck, but instead to the sizes. I was unsure of the purpose of this until I began to see stars and the edges of my vision became fuzzy. I would have attempted to fight back if it wasn’t for the wave of sights and sounds that washed over me taking me on a short but powerful journey within their embrace.

When I came back to reality, I realized that I was laying on the right side of my face, and my head was being pushed down in to the padding by the weight of John’s body kneeling on my cheekbone. He was in the process of unscrewing the air-hose on my mask, I tried to shake him once, but my head was pinned, and not going anywhere. The only thing I could do was watch events unfold through the glass portals in front of my eyes.

I watched his actions attentively, my eyes following his hand motions like a dog being teased with a treat. The three objects were laid out only scant inches from the lenses on my mask. Through the left eyehole I could see John in his Rubberized glory coiling the hose back up and laying it down on my chest. He then pulled out a pile of webbing straps and began to cinch my head down in its current position.

Once he was done he removed his knee, yet the straps held me in this position, the open port on my mask sticking straight up in the air ready for anything to be inserted like a bound twink at a roofie party.

“Life is all lessons in control boy, one way or another, one form or another.” He said as he opened the jar containing the cotton balls and removing one; “Everyday you accept this and live this. You are submissive to your boss, who in turn is submissive to his.” Opening the little brown glass bottle he placed the cotton ball over the opening and tipped it up on end. “This is the natural way of things: in life, in nature, there is always someone higher on the food chain than you.”

John slipped the cotton ball onto the filter and leaned down next to my face. “Well you have now entered a new food chain, and its time you learned your place. I have all the time in the world, and you don’t look to be going anywhere anytime soon. So you better start opening your mind to what is being brought to you, or your training shall be a long and arduous process; for we will repeat any lessons that don’t take over and over until your mind is willing to accept them.”

With that he screwed the filter on to my mask. My air became tinted with a sweet smell as my brain drifted off in to a subdued place. I felt the horniness of this situation that I currently found myself in finally boil past the trepidation and fear as it began to overtake every sense in by body. I began chewing on the gag and feeling it out with my tongue so my brain could begin to process the sexual connotation of the object in my mouth. The warmth travelled down my body until it reached my crotch, which began to pulsate, and grow with every breath of this incredible sweet haze…

That’s when I remembered the spiked cage…

For those of you interested in genuinely hardcore bondage, get yourself over to the Ruff’s Stuff blog at http://ruffsstuff.com/

Ruff has been a big supporter of BondagebaitTop/Heavybondage videos for a while now…so big THANKS to him!!

Drop by his blog and see what he has to offer. It is WELL WORTH a visit!

And remember…no means no…unless you’re HARD!

Watch this space for ‘#wellhung’ – a bondage movie – part 1…coming very soon to a blog near you!

For the rubber and PVC fans out there…‘#wellhung’ – a bondage movie – part 1…coming very soon to a blog near you!

Watch all of the BondagebaitTop/heavybondage videos at https://vimeo.com/heavybondage

The low groan of the forced release of sexual repression issued out from behind the gag as the spikes burrowed their blunt tips into my sensitive parts that were currently yearning to break past the cage’s embrace.

John just sat beside me, watching, observing. Every now and then he would reach out and stroke my head with his gloved hand. This only succeeded in kicking my clouded mind in to overdrive. The animalistic response was purely instinctual in nature, as I pushed back against his hand with my head; much like a cat would, in an attempt to show my appreciation for his attention.

Then all of a sudden, it ended as quickly as it began.

John stood up and took the filter with him, the fog in my head slowly lifted as I became increasingly aware of the burning fire in my crotch. I began to thrash around and complain in muffled grunts against my gag. John just chuckled to himself as he turned his attentions back to the mass of wires he had brought in earlier.

From sheer pleasure to burning pain… He controlled what I felt and how I felt it. This was beyond being restrained, being captured. I was beginning to see that being locked down to this bed in this cell was only the beginning of the trials I was to face that he only knew the end to… if such an end existed.

I craned my head to the side to watch my rubber clad captor work.

Every two wires that he pulled off the pile before him, he draped across my body. His attention was at his task. I was but prey within his trap, all but insignificant at the moment, for I as subdued, not going anywhere, a meal to be eaten at a later time.

Being the fact that I had never done anything more than read about this stuff online the thought of accepting the actuality of electrical jolts throughout my body seemed similar to a driver with only a learners permit attempting to pilot a vehicle upon the autobahn. In other words… Insane.

I grunted a vote of descent against John’s plan, and attempted to pull away, as he began to connect the wires to the suit. Straining against the straps as best as I could I started to form an assessment of the situation from within the limiting view of the lenses of the mask sealed upon my face. I began making note of all the areas over which the electrical connectors were visible: Biceps, Triceps, Deltoids, Quads, Pecs, and Abs… My mind halted in its tracks as I suddenly calculated exactly what I had just noticed… There were connections for the wires over my Pecs?… Over my heart?… Was he fucking crazy?

As he connected the wires above my pectorals I freaked and thrashed against the straps in a feudal attempt to stop him. John pulled out the remote box and hit my nuts with an electrical jolt, but this time even that did not deter me. I was kicked into a blind panic, for in my mind I was fighting for my life.

John calmly crawled up upon my writhing screaming form and sat down on my abdomen. Leaning over the edge of the bed he pulled a small brown zippered case from an unknown location and sat it on my chest. Leaning in he snagged my chin with his left hand, and grabbed the side of the mask with his right, keeping me from wrestling my head from his grasp. He sighed heavily as the dark lenses of his mask looked directly into my eyes; “Must we do everything the hard way?”

He tossed my head aside as I recoiled back screaming profanities into my gag. He just ignored me and slowly unzipped the case that sat before him. If I thought I was in a panic before, I was not prepared for the metal body of the hypodermic syringe that entered into my field of vision from within the confines of the case.

I started shaking my head no, pleading into my gag, attempting against futility to communicate the fact that I would be good, I would behave, anything but that. John was not swayed from his task as he pulled the small vial out from its spot in the case and punctured its cap with the tip of the needle.

As he drew back the plunger he spoke as if he were speaking to the syringe, as if I were not even in the room, the sound in his voice belayed the beginnings of irritation. I knew as he spoke that this was not a good thing. “You are mine now; you do not dictate to me anything! Your training is whatever I decide your training is going to be.” With this he pulled the needle back out of the vial, positioned it above the lens on my mask and pushed on the plunger ever so slightly just so a few drops of the sweet nectar held within splashed against the mask. Every drop drove the icy cold sting of fear deeper in to my bones.

He laid the needle down at the top of the bed, and with the left thumb of his gloved hand he streaked fluid across the glass covering my right eye. His voice took a tone of empathy as cocked his head to the side and continued to speak as he began to stroke my head. “I know at this point that that suit is filling up with sweat, and that gag is beginning to get a bit uncomfortable on your jaw. By the time we are finished with this lesson, that suit shall be flooded and your jaw will feel like its ready to fall off. That is best case scenario for you, do you understand? I will not hesitate to teach you respect along the way.”

My eyes were glued to the hypodermic that sat just above my on the bed. I had no Ideas what it contained, or if he would actually use it on me or not. Frankly I really did not wish to find out either. I closed my eyes slowly and nodded my head in consent. Letting him know I understood, all too well.

With that he climbed off and continued connecting the wires.

Every connection that he hooked up over a major muscle group brought a deeper level of trepidation to my mind as all I could do was watch in fear and issue high pitched terrified grunts of protest in to my gag from time to time. This only seemed to please him more as he continued on his task unswayed, and unnervingly unconcerned.

Every online electro play forum’s warnings that I had ever read haunted my tortured mind as I pleaded into my gag hoping that he would understand what I was saying. Begging he would heed the warnings and not make me another statistic for others to read about. I was beside myself; panic singed the edges of my consciousness and threatened to take over again as the tears cooled my hot cheeks.

As he connected the last of the wires he turned his masked face towards mine and began to speak. “Trust… Whether you like it or not this is one thing that you shall learn.” With that he slapped me on the chest, and began connecting the other ends of the wires to a black box that he set up on a stool next to the bed.

My whole body shuttered at the thoughts that this was moving forward with or without me on board. Completely at a loss for any other way to respond to this news I began to hyperventilate. This was answered quickly by the removal of my air. Realizing I was in no position to continue to fight I did my best to relax, and begged to the best of my ability through the gag filling my mouth.

He just chucked to himself as he reopened the valve on the hose and tossed it across my chest. As I inhaled deeply I could hear him mumbling something about Surface to mass ratio and relative electricity needed to achieve his goals. This still had very little effect on me; all my preconceived notions were barraging my senses with foreshadowed warnings of extreme danger.

Biting down on the gag I opened my mouth as wide as I could in an attempt to speak around it. Yet all my boiled up courage issued itself out as a half intelligible defeatist whisper of “Please.”

This seemed to get his attention as he stopped fiddling with the box and turned his mask in my direction. “Bottom line,” He said as he walked over and cupped the chin of my masked head in his hand. “If you don’t like it I would get up and leave.”

With a light chuckle to himself he went on to explain that the little black box that he set on a stool next to the bed was a creature of his own design. It was always on, always watching. It functioned on a random number generator that would pick a number between one and ten.

He set me on the number three, which he called ‘his lucky number’. John told me that every 30 seconds the program would kick in, kind of like rolling the dice. It would keep running every 30 seconds, and every time my number came up the box would run its electrical cycle.

Once it was done, the random number generator would begin again, and again every 30 seconds past that point.

“It doesn’t need sleep so why should you?” he chuckled as he flipped the switch on the box and began fiddling with the dials.

This was when we began a process that John called ‘setting the levels’ where basically he seemed to take great pleasure causing as much pain to different muscle groups of my body one by one. Every time I got to the point on a setting that my muscles felt like they were ready to tear apart and I was screaming in to the gag he seemed satisfied and would move on to the next group.

This went on for what seemed like an eternity… Then finally he was done.

In just a few loads he gathered up all of his tools, and extra equipment. Once he was done he sat down on the bed and picked the syringe back up from beside my head. “Sometimes in life control can be taken by nothing more than a mere suggestion, a thought, and idea. All it takes is the person you are trying to persuade to believe what you are telling them. Our government does it all the time; psychology is very effective, as has been proven time and time again.”

John aimed the needle towards the wall and depressed the plunger, spraying a thin stream of liquid on the black PVC cover; “This, was nothing more than mere water. Truly harmless for sure, but it only took you believing it was a threat to you to be effective.” He flung the empty syringe across the room where is stuck in the opposite wall as he began adjusting the dials on the black box a bit higher form the ‘levels’ we had just set.

“This on the other hand is a threat to you. If you don’t understand that you will shortly. It will not care if you beg, it will not care if you plead. It is but an emotionless box that will complete its task even if it has to drag you upon the path behind it. This is a good lesson for you. Life is not fair, and in this house this is especially true. Long ago you told me that you wanted to be a rubber slave so now you have your wish. No fantasy, no safe words, no outs. It shall be a long and arduous path for you, and I shall walk beside you the whole way, yet I shall never let you falter. You have chosen a hard life, some day I imagine you will come to love me and respect me. At this point though I imagine you are going to hate my guts, and I can live with that.”

John stroked me head once more with his gloved hand, as he turned towards the box, flipped the on switch, and left the room. I could hear the grinding click of the deadbolt as the box began its first cycle. As the pair seared my senses I wondered how long I would hold up.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

That was an eternity ago…

Even now I could feel the low hum of the machine. My dick pulsated in rhythm to its hypnotic beat. Every so often the power would ramp up to the point I would be screaming for mercy, as every muscle in my body felt like it was set ablaze in a domino succession of painful spasms,

Sometimes it would strike once, sometimes multiple times in a row only to wind back down and lurk in wait for its next opportunity.

I am amazingly tired. It is as if the machine knew. For every time I drifted off I am shocked back out. I have cried, I have laughed, I have screamed…but machines know no mercy. I have no idea how much longer I can hold on.

My joints were sore from the muscle spasms every time the box ramped. Thick layer of sweat pooled up between the heavy layers of rubber and my skin gave me the idea that I had been here quite a few hours.

Panic had long since subsided, and so had the fight, once it set in that I truly was not getting away, and acceptance of my situation began to materialize. I had since moved on to slipping faith in myself. Forced to physically endure was one thing, but mental acceptance was another.

Everything I have known, my life, my identity had been taken from me by force. By now Dave had already long since landed at the airport, and perhaps he was looking for me, but somehow I doubted that.

Even if he was, where would he look, and as I lifted my head and shook it slightly to jostle the bead of sweat that had found its way into my eye, I started to wonder if I really wanted to be found. Confusion laced the clash of my two worlds, emotions raged in tides of change as I was forced to face inner daemons that I had kept locked away for so long.

Yet as I felt the bite of the straps through my soft rubber outer-skin, and listened to the metronomic clicking of my breathing competing with the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears, I started to question the meaning of freedom.

Freedom is a fickle beast. We are all search for it in some form or another, yet is what we seek truly what we want? Must we be captive to truly be free?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was at the point that I felt that I could take no more, perched on the edge of oblivion and ready to tumble into the blackness of my own mind, that John returned. He walked up to the side of the bed, crossed his arms, and just stood there before me watching my torment. I moaned a few times weekly into my gag, too tired to do much more

He didn’t react, didn’t budge, he just stood there stoically. His darkened mask hid any hint of emotion behind it, any hint of acknowledgement, any hint of sympathy. I raised my head up and whimpered at him. My edges were frazzled, I needed a warm hand, a touch, understanding of some sort to help me go on; yet all I received was unmoving silence.

Having him stand here next to me offering no aide to my plight was worse than not having him here at all. I could feel the tears welling up within me as my torso began to quiver and my eyes began to water. I was determined to not to allow him the satisfaction of seeing me break down under the strain of the situation. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it as I concentrated on regulating my breathing to calm myself down.

My head cleared a bit as I could feel the pressure on my chest ease up. It probably would have worked too if John had not pulled out a remote and pointed it at the black box causing it to ramp up higher than it had hit me previously.

The shock took my breath away, and just like a child on the playground that had been slugged in the stomach by the neighborhood bully, my world cracked. My head slammed back down into the soft padding of the bed, and as I caught my breath I proceeded to lose it once again. My cries echoed out through the padded room. I shook so hard my inhalations shook with me.

Everything about my situation reminded me of truly how vulnerable I was and drove me deeper into my distress. As I contemplated the gag in my mouth blocking my sobs, my inability to cover my own face in shame, and the fact that John remained above me with his arms crossed watching my embarrassment grow ever more prevalent I summoned the last of my strength in an attempt to wage one final feudal attempt to halt this progression in its tracks.

Throwing myself against the straps as hard as I could I bucked and fought, and I screamed. For about thirty seconds I kept this up, and then it just all stopped. An eerie calm passed over me as my breathing was issued out in short huffs. My body took a bit to catch up to the truth that my brain already knew.

As my gaze once again met up with the darkened lenses on his mask I could feel dams bursting inside of me. My mouth began to quiver around the gag as my emotions regrouped and burst forth from me in a torrent that overtook my soul. I was no longer in control, not even of my own tears. I was helpless to stop them, only capable of riding them out as they crashed against the rocks of my senses.

For the very first time I allowed myself to feel and accept the control of another. To finally let go of that ledge I had grasped onto for dear life for so long. I closed my eyes tight and embraced the new sensations as they hit me. It didn’t take me long to realize that John was embracing me as well.

…And as he held me as I continued to cry I realized, for the first time in my life, things felt right.

A rubber and PVC clad ‘Prisoner’ remains imprisoned in the lair of ‘The Captor’ and desperately looking for a way to escape. Chains (and more chains) literally keep ‘The Prisoner’ hanging around and unable to free himself…

#wellhung – a bondage movie – part 1 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

In a world of rubbery darkness…

All of these images were found on the internet. Credit must be given to the creators of these images. If any of these images belong to you and you would like them removed then please contact me via this blog.

A rubber and PVC clad ‘Prisoner’ remains imprisoned in the lair of ‘The Captor’ and desperately looking for a way to escape. Chains (and more chains) literally keep ‘The Prisoner’ hanging around and unable to free himself…full video at the bottom of the post…

#wellhung – a bondage movie – part 1 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

Watch more videos like this at https://vimeo.com/heavybondage

Prisoners MUST be gagged…

OREGON. My reason for writing is that I am obliged to tell you my story as part of my payment for services rendered. I’ll begin by telling you about my companion, Clifford. Cliff and I have lived together for about five years, and we very much enjoy each other. I am thirty-two, Cliff is twenty-seven. We both play at active sports and hobbies and I teach physical education in a local high school. Although it is not a problem, I have harbored a fantasy for some years, and up until now Cliff has protested that he was either unable or unwilling to fulfill it. He, however, offered to help find someone who might do the job. We asked around discreetly and after a year or so, through a friend where he works, Cliff learned about a man who also lives in this part of the city. The man, whom I’ll call Adam, is a professional architect who, as a hobby, apparently enjoys being a bondage top; something that I understand is unusual as most like to be the bottom. Both Cliff and I do. But that’s his reputation as we heard it. If he finds a subject or proposition for a scene interesting, he will undertake to execute it. Much in demand, as you can imagine, he is quite choosy.

I called Adam, explained how I had learned about him, and told him that I hoped he would be willing to help me. Reluctantly, after explaining that he had all of the subjects he really wanted, he suggested that we meet the following Friday at an upscale restaurant for dessert and conversation. I agreed. He described himself, and I did likewise. We had no trouble identifying each other, and he was better looking than he admitted; about five-ten with dark hair, beginning to thin at the temples with a touch of gray; probably about forty. Well built, he complemented his clothes. But most of all I noticed his soft brown eyes and his very mild manner. I had trouble imagining such a reserved man being much of a bondage aficionado. After some small talk, he asked what I wanted.

“My fantasy is prolonged bondage,” I began. “I want to spend a minimum of forty-eight hours tied up and gagged. Not just tied up, but strictly tied up and effectively gagged.”

“Oh,” he sighed. He explained at length that most let their fantasies outrun their real ability to endure strict bondage, or any bondage at all. “So many people think they want an all night session, or even more, but most are demanding release after two or three hours. Are you sure about this?”

“I am,” I explained. “Cliff and I play bondage games now and then. He’s good tied up for an hour or so—no more, and I respect his wishes. When I look uncomfortable or squirm a bit, he turns me loose, which is usually what I want. But at the same time, I desperately wish he wouldn’t. I want someone who will tie me up and not give in, no matter how much I complain. I want real bondage—that is, to be a prisoner without possibility of escape. I want to know what it feels like—At least once in my life.” I had to reach down and adjust my pants. “I’m sorry, just thinking about it gives me a roaring hard on,” I quietly explained. “I want someone who will tie me up and not release me no matter what, no matter how much I complain.”

“I see,” he smiled. “A minimum of forty-eight hours in bondage. And you want to be both tied up and gagged the entire time. Any special positions?”

“No,” I said. “As long as I’m securely tied so that I cannot get free, and effectively gagged, but not hurt, I’ll be happy. And forty-eight hours is the minimum. The duration is up to you, if you’ll do the scene. How much would you charge for this service?”

“I don’t charge, ever,” he said emphatically. “What I do, I do for my amusement and pleasure. If there isn’t fun and pleasure in the activity, I am not interested. I’m not into pain, torture or any hard-core S&M other than pure bondage. And I am not for hire.”

He sat and thought things over for awhile. “Your fantasy calls for some careful consideration,” he said. “It presents some danger and some difficult problems for me. I’m intrigued as I’ve never done anything like it before. Everyone always wants release so quickly despite what they say. But you demand to remain tied no matter what. Somehow, I think you mean it. Let me think it over for a week and I’ll get back to you. Meet me here again next Friday.”

We talked about the weather and local sports, then parted. I was back right on time one week later and Adam was already there, waiting. “I’ll do it,” he said after preliminary small talk. “You look like a good healthy subject, with a nice body, and I want to see if we can pull it off. But for my protection, just in case something unexpected happens, I want you to sign this release. It explains what you have requested and absolves me in case of accident. I’ll do everything I can to see that you are safe, but I need some protection.” He asked about any allergies, or other breathing problems that I might have and I assured him that I have none that I know about.

“When can we do it?” I said as I quickly signed.

“When do you have a week or so free?”

“I’m a teacher so I have the summer off. Any time in the next six weeks.”

“Six weeks to play with,” he mumbled. “If I enjoy it, you could be tied up a long time. Here’s my address. Be there next Friday night at 6:30 PM. You can take me out for dinner, and when we return, we’ll get started. See that nobody will be looking for you for a while. I don’t want problems. Tell your partner where to find you in case of emergency. Okay?” I agreed. He took my address and phone number, in case he had to contact me, then we left.

One week later I showed up at his door at 6:30, right on time, and we went to a nearby restaurant, ate dinner, and returned to his house. It was a large turn-of-the-century building with perhaps three or four bedrooms, an upstairs, and a small third floor. On the inside, the living room was appointed modestly and tastefully with furniture that nicely matched the wood of the interior. The home had been modernized but retained the original Victorian flavor. Adam apparently lived alone as I saw no sign of anyone else around. We sat and talked for a few minutes longer, then he led me down a hall and into an unusually large bedroom. There was a king-sized bed without blankets but with a white pad. The room had exercise equipment along one side, a few chairs, a table, and a door leading to a bathroom. There were two windows, but they were covered with shades and curtains so that no light came in from outside. Despite the furniture, the room was spacious and uncluttered.

“Take off all of your clothes,” Adam said softly, “put them in that chest of drawers, go in there, go to the bathroom, and then wait back here for me.” He left. I stripped, folded my clothes, and put them in a drawer which I shut. I went to the bathroom, urinated as much as I could, and returned. I stood for about five minutes, hoping that my now roaring hard-on wasn’t going to ruin anything.

“I see you’re still happily anticipating this,” said Adam when he returned. “If you can, put this on.” It was a small garment made of nylon which had little give. It was one of those things that body builders wear in competition; just a small tight pouch in front, and a partial seat, very narrow at the waist. My buns hung out, and my hard- on stuck up over the top of the waist band. It was a bit small for me, but I struggled into it. “Now, lie down on the bed,” Adam commanded.

He put mitt-like things on my hands, secured them with straps and buckles, and put little locks in place to hold them. He added padded leather cuffs to my wrists and then my ankles, buckled and locked them too. The cuffs had steel rings fastened into the leather. He had me lie down on my back in the classic spread-eagle position. With rope he fastened the leg cuffs to the bottom corners of the bed, both to the side and the bottom. Then he did the same with my arms, keeping all knots far out of reach, but in all cases, he left considerable slack. This disappointed me as I had hoped for strict bondage, but I didn’t complain. Then he picked up a harness-like thing and turned to me. “This is your first gag. Once I put it on, there is no return. No matter what, I will not free you until I want to, and that can be as many hours or days as I wish. From time to time I will need to remove whatever gag you are wearing in order to give you food and water. You may shout or say whatever you wish while gagged, but if you say so much as one word during the brief moments when the gag is off, you will miss the next meal. And no matter how much you demand, insist or beg, I will not free you. Is that clear?”

I nodded agreement. “This is your last chance to back out,” he said. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I nodded that I did and said aloud that I did. I indicated my stiff dick and said, “He wants it too.” Adam put the plug of the gag into my mouth and began fastening the straps and buckles behind my head, around my nose, over my head, under my chin. The bulge filled my mouth, holding it open, but not so far as to be terribly uncomfortable. The leather cover fit solidly against my lips, pressing firmly around my lower face. The straps kept my mouth securely clamped around the plug. “Is that all right?” he asked. “Mmmm,” I said, nodding yes. “Is there anything else you want tonight?” he smiled. “Mm-mmmuummmm-mm,” I said, trying to indicate no, nothing else. He laughed, said, “You’re one crazy teacher. What would your students say if they could see you now? I’ll bet some of them would like to get you in this position.” Then he turned, and as he walked out of the room, he said, “Have a nice night.”

That startled me. All night! Suddenly it seemed like a long time. I had not anticipated being left alone nor had I thought about spending a prolonged period in one position. I began exploring what I had gotten myself into. I could easily move my arms and legs for some distance and I could roll my body from side to side a bit. But I soon found that stretching to my left as far as I could, I could not touch my face or any other part of my body with my right arm. Adam had left me slack enough to move around, but not enough to touch my gag, and with the mitts on, I could do little even if I did. I could reach the rope that held my arms, but none of the secure knots. For a while I enjoyed the sensation, looking down at my hard dick that still stuck up over the top of the posing brief. I discovered that there were no clocks in the room, and that I suddenly had little sense of time. Had five minutes gone by, or ten? This was maddening. And I had an itch on my nose. Nothing to do but endure that as I couldn’t turn my head enough to scratch it. I tried calling out through the gag, but that produced no result. I thought Adam would be nearby and would rush in to see if I was in trouble. Nothing. I lay there for what seemed like a long time. And after a while, as I anticipated, I wanted to be free. “What have I done?” I said to myself. My hard-on withdrew and I became a bit afraid.

Some time later, maybe an hour or even two, without warning, the door opened, and Adam entered the room, moved quickly to the side of the bed, reached down, and shoved my now soft penis completely into the posing brief, turning it downward so that now I couldn’t produce a full erection. “Mmmmmm,” I moaned into the gag, indicating that this was not something I wanted. “Mmmmmmm!!” He laughed and said, “No more hard dicks for a few days.” But my dick had already responded, jumping inside the restraining material, arching up in a massive indecent bulge, aching to get free. He patted my swollen trapped member, and said, “No more freedom for him. If you’re tied up, he’s tied up too. It’s only fair.” He stroked my dick, making it worse, he fondled my balls, and then he left. “Mmmmmmm mmm mmm,” I called out after him, wanting to tell him that I had already changed my mind about all of this. But he closed the door and was gone.

Time drug on, minutes or hours—I had no idea. It was so quiet, and the lamps which burned brightly on either side of the room made strange shadows all around. I didn’t think I could endure it. I called out, but nothing. He had taken me at my word, and I remained his prisoner. Actually, as I thought about it, I remained my own prisoner. I had done this to myself. How long I would be tied up I could only guess. What Adam might do, only he knew. The night seemed endless. I squirmed, struggled, and strained. Nothing gave. I had my fantasy. I was bound, gagged, and not going to be released. I managed to sleep a little off and on, probably more than I realized.

After what seemed like forever and longer, the door opened, and Adam walked into the room. He was wearing a snug pair of Calvin Klein briefs that set off his nicely muscled body perfectly and presented an inviting basket up front. His hair was mussed, and he looked sleepy. I was turned on by the sight of him, and my semi-hard dick tried to jump to attention. I called out through the gag, pulled at the rope, and tried my best to indicate that it was all over. “Release me,” I demanded, but only “Mmmmmuuumm-mmm” came out. He laughed. “The first night’s not even over yet,” he said softly, “and you sound like you might like to be untied.” I nodded vigorously, yes. I must be untied. Now. Not much intelligible came out.

“Well,” he said, “not for a long, long time. Now you know what it’s like to be a prisoner in bondage. Before it’s over, you will know what it’s like to be a long-term prisoner. But now, let’s let you take a leak.” He pulled down the pouch of the briefs and held my now almost soft dick in a bottle, careful to hold it down and bent so it wouldn’t become erect. I urinated, which was difficult under the circumstances, but which felt good. He pulled the pouch back up, after making sure my arching cock was pointing down, and left the room. Another long period passed—minutes, maybe an hour. I couldn’t tell.

When Adam returned, he was wearing only a jock strap and he looked delicious but somehow evil. “Time for exercise,” he chirped. He took off the mitts and undid the ropes that held my arms, but was strong enough to force them behind my back where he secured the cuffs to each other. Then he undid my legs. All the time I was mumbling into the gag about turning me loose, but he ignored me. He walked me over to the rowing machine that sat in the corner of the room, and had me sit on the seat. He took my legs, put them on the foot pads, and secured them with white tape. Then he undid my arms and put them on the handles of the machine, securing them with tape also—lots of tape. “We don’t want you to come free while exercising,” he smiled. Now I could move the machine’s handles, slide forth and back in the seat, and row. “It’s time for a new gag,” he said. “Remember the rule. One word while the gag is off, and you miss your next meal. Think it over carefully.” He undid the straps and the bulb came out of my mouth. I exercised my jaw which was stiff, and saw that he was immediately ready to put something back in my mouth. “I really want this to end,” I said. He grabbed my jaw, squeezed, and shoved a firm rubber round thing—like a short tube about an inch long—inside past my lips and teeth. It held my mouth open quite wide and he buckled the straps behind my head with again other straps up on either side of my nose and straps under my chin. The rubber face plate covered me from chin to nose. “Ahhhhh-ahhh-ahhh,” I said. It was quite uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he said, “it’s called a piss gag. It holds your mouth open. He reached his fingers through the opening into my mouth and played with my tongue. “But I won’t piss in it. It’s so you can breathe while you exercise. Now go to it. You have thirty minutes to row, and if you stop, I’ll add another ten minutes.” So I rowed, moving forth and back, eventually working up a sweat. The movement felt good after being so long on the bed. Adam rode the stationary bicycle next to me, humming, seeming to enjoy himself, occasionally looking at his watch. The thirty minutes went quickly enough, but then I was wringing wet with sweat. “We need a bath,” he said.

Adam first undid my hands, securing them behind me with locks on the cuffs. Then he took the tape from my feet, had me stand, and led me to the bathroom. I sat in the tub where he tied my feet at the ankles and knees. He took another rope from my ankles and threaded it under me, through the crack in my buns, and up to my hands where he tied it off to the cuffs. I protested through the piss gag, but he went about his business. I had no choice now but to sit there. He pulled the shower curtain, then stuck in his head and arm, and turned on the water—one tap only—the cold one. I yelled through the large opening in the gag, gasping for air, finally getting used to the cold deluge that I could only endure, squirming as much as the rope and restraints allowed. Adam disappeared. I must have sat there for ten or fifteen minutes. When he returned, he turned off the water, untied the rope that held my hands to my feet, and made me stand. He dried me off, pulling down the new wet posing brief, leaving me nude. He untied my feet and had me step out of the brief and the tub.

He sat me on the toilet so that I could relieve myself, and then he cleaned me up, which I found somewhat embarrassing. He had me step into a jock strap like his, and he pulled it on, adjusting me inside the pouch. “Thirsty?” he asked. “Ahh-ahhh,” I answered, nodding yes. He led me into the bedroom, and had me lie back on the bed, which was uncomfortable on the cuffed hands behind my back. “Just a minute and I’ll fix that,” he said, seeing me wince and squirm, but first he stretched out my feet in the spread-eagle position again, only this time, very tight and secure—there was no slack. Then he had me sit up, he freed my hands, and tied them to the corners of the bed the same way—very tight, stretched as taut as I could stand.

“You’ve had it easy up until now,” he said. “It’s time for that hard bondage you wanted, but first we need to lubricate you. He produced a large round rubber object and shoved it into the circle of the piss gag. It filled the opening, completely sealing my mouth. There was a tube running into the stopper, and I now noticed a large bag hanging from a hook above me. From it descended a small rubber hose, which he ran past my hand, and to the stopper where he inserted it in a rod that stuck out of the middle of the tube. “Squeeze your hand on the hose,” he said. Then he released a clamp on the hose near the bag. “Now, any time you want water, release the hose a little at a time, and it will run into your mouth. Don’t choke. Experiment for a while. You were supposed to get breakfast too, but you said something when the gag was out, so only water. Sorry about that, but it’s the rule you agreed to abide by.” He left the room. I tried the tube, and let in some water. Soon I got the hang of it, and I drank quite a bit, careful not to choke.

When Adam returned, perhaps an hour or more later, he was wearing Levi’s but no shirt, and I would have killed to see him in them under different circumstances. He had the perfect body for Levi’s. “Would we like to sit up and listen to some music?” he asked. “Mmmm-mmm-mm,” I said, nodding yes. He took down the bottle, unplugged the tube to the stopper, and then removed the stopper. “Ahhh-hhh-hh,” I offered. “I’m sure,” he laughed. “You’re saying you enjoy this and wish you could stay in bondage for the rest of the summer.” “No,” I shouted, but it came out “Ahhhh.”

Adam then pulled down my jock strap, took out a small piece of equipment, a harness-like affair which he fastened around my cock and balls. It took a while to complete all the little straps which circled my cock almost completely from base to tip. Other straps separated and highlighted my balls. Then he pulled the jock up over the entire package. “No getting a hard-on today,” he said, “or it will hurt.” He had put me into a leather cock cage, and he fastened it on tightly. My cock swelled, pushing out the jock at odd angles, and it immediately hurt, which ended my erection, although I had to suffer the thing off and on for quite a while. He replaced the mitts, locked them in place, then undid my arms, leaving the cuffs and putting my arms through a black garment which turned out to be a nylon straitjacket. “Ahhh-ahhhh-ahhh,” I protested. He cinched up the arm straps with my arms folded securely in front of me with little room for movement. Then he undid my legs, and had me stand while he cinched the two crotch straps on either side of my encumbered genitals, pulling the jacket down firmly in front and in back. Then he moved me to one of the large arm chairs in the room, had me sit, and went to work tying me very securely to the chair. Ankles, knees, upper legs, and body were strapped to the chair. “Now,” he warned, “I’m going to take this gag out for a moment. You’ve already lost one meal. Don’t lose another as they don’t come too often. Being tied up and hungry is no fun.”

I decided to stay quiet this time while he unfastened the piss gag and substituted a red rubber-like ball gag that just fit into my mouth. He fastened the strap behind my head. Then he brought out a leather hood which he fitted over my head and pulled into place. All of my head was encased except my nose and small holes for my eyes. He laced up the hood securely—almost too tight, and then checked the other ropes and the straitjacket. He moved across the room to shelves that held a stereo unit, put disks into the carrier of the CD player, turned on some heavy classical music—Wagner, I think—and then he turned to me. “It plays for six hours without repeating,” he said. “Have a nice day.” Then he left the room.

I struggled with the straitjacket, without gaining any slack. It was there to stay. The ball gag and hood reduced me to nothing but minimal moans. Now I had what I had really asked for—strict bondage—and I was again having more than second thoughts. When the gag was out, I should have demanded release. The music played on, switching to Verdi mixed with Puccini. I listened. What else was possible?

After who knows how long, the door opened and Adam came in pushing a wheel chair. As he came closer, I saw that there was someone in it. The body was bound in black leather that covered large areas of his body. Like myself, the person was hooded with only small eye and nose holes. His arms were fastened in a leather arm binder that covered him from his wrists well up above his elbows and the encumbered arms hung over the back of the chair. Rope around his wrists led down to something under the chair, further holding his arms in place. His legs were also in a tight leg binder that covered him from ankles to upper thighs. He wore a large black leather cod piece. His upper body was wrapped with an elaborate leather harness that had rings highlighting his nipples, and covered much of his chest. More leather held him fast to the chair both over his legs and around his chest. He squirmed what little he could in the chair and moaned into the gag that must have been under the hood.

“I thought you would like some company,” Adam offered. “I have to run some errands and do some shopping, and I hate to leave alone someone who’s all tied up. So I’ll be gone for three or four hours. You two have a good chat. If you need anything, you can tell each other.” We both moaned loudly together, a chorus of protest which Adam ignored as he left, closing the door. We looked at each other, nodded, and offered “Mmmmmuumm’s” of acknowledgment. It was really a turn on looking at him, knowing there was nothing I could do about the situation but sit and endure. How long we sat there I have no idea but it became very uncomfortable for me, and must have been more so for my new friend who was more strictly encased than I was. The music droned on, and I suspected that I was hearing the same thing for the second time, but couldn’t remember.

It seemed to me that an eternity passed before the door opened and Adam returned. “You two could probably swap stories and bondage jokes all day about being tied up,” he chirped. “But it’s time for you (he pointed to me) to exercise again, and your new friend here gets to watch.” Adam released my arms and tied them behind my back, then he took off all of the other restraints. He pulled down the jock and took off the harness, then returned the jock. When I was unfettered, he walked me over to the stationary bicycle and taped me to it as he had to the rowing machine earlier, then he removed the hood and the ball gag, replacing it with the piss gag. I spent the next half hour riding, moving the handles forward and back, feeling relief from being bound so firmly for so long. The wheelchair-bound figure sat and watched. When Adam returned, we repeated the bathroom and shower procedure. He gave me as much water as I wished, then replaced the piss gag. At no time then, or ever during the bathroom routine, was I entirely untied. Always my arms, or my legs were trussed up in some way. And the moments without a gag were as brief as possible.

Adam took me back to the bedroom with only my hands still secure behind my back. I stood in front of the bed. He removed the now wet jock strap, saw to it that I was dry, and then he pulled out a roll of plastic wrap and a role of two-inch wide cellophane tape—the kind used by the post office on packages. He pulled off a piece of plastic wrap about two feet long, held it up behind my back, and stuck the end of the tape to my side, pulling it over the plastic wrap, half on the wrap, half on my skin, as he unrolled it across my back to the other side. Then he reached between my legs and pulled up the plastic over my cock and balls, seeing that my cock pointed down, folding the plastic so that it just captured my manly bulge. Then he continued with the tape around the front, holding the plastic in place securely to my body. It became a secure transparent jock of sorts. He took a scissors and cut away the excess plastic and did one more wrap of the tape. Then he had me step into a small plastic bag which he pulled up around my feet and he secured it there with tape wrapped around my ankles. Then he began wrapping plastic wrap around my legs up from my ankles slowly circling my body rising to about crotch level. He then unfastened my arms and hung them down at my sides, securing them with a wrap of tape at the wrists and upper arms. Then he continued wrapping with the plastic until he reached my neck where he stopped. He took more tape and secured me again at the ankles, the thighs, the wrists and upper arms. I became a plastic mummy. He removed the piss gag, and gave me some cookies to eat along with more water. I was hungry, so I kept quiet and ate. He gave me an apple and with him holding it, I ate half. It was good. After I had swallowed and cleared my mouth, and after a little more water, he put a plastic mouth guard (the kind football players or boxers use) into my mouth, closed my lips, and put two pieces of tape criss-crossed over my mouth. Then he put a clear plastic bag over my head, down to my neck, squeezed out the air, and made a small hole over my nose. Then he wrapped my head below my nose with the tape, adding additional strips under my chin and over my head. I was now fully bound and gagged again. The plastic distorted my vision, but I could see what was going on in the room. Adam stepped back and looked at his work, seemed pleased, then carefully lowered me onto my back on the bed. I squirmed around, and weakened the binding plastic here and there. Adam immediately reinforced the tie with the tape, using it liberally.

“This is what I call transparent bondage,” he said. “nobody has been in it for more than an hour, so we’re going for a record here. And by the way, since your time here is unlimited, I’m writing to The Guinness Book of World Records to see if there is a record for someone in endurance bondage. We should have an answer in a week or so. You’re not going anywhere, so be patient. It would be fun to break that record, too.”

Now I really protested, moaning and squirming. There was enough sincerity in his voice to make me believe that Adam might mean it, and considering what he had done so far, I was ready to believe just about anything. But Adam just laughed and said, ”You’re really getting what you wanted, aren’t you? And you’ve only just begun. There’s so much more coming over the next few weeks. I have six weeks to work with you, remember.” Then he walked behind the wheel chair and pushed it out of the room, closing the door behind him. The music, dimmer now through the plastic, continued, switching from disk to disk. If each disk played for an hour, I guessed I squirmed there for at least three hours—probably more. I sweated heavily so that I eventually squirmed in a lake of my own making. I screamed into the gag, but got nowhere. I could inch around the bed, moving from side to side, but didn’t go too far for fear of falling off the bed.

Adam returned, dressed now in snug nylon running shorts and Nikes. He sat by the bed and talked to me, at the same time running his hand over my bound body, paying great attention to the plastic wrapped mound between my legs. This immediately caused my encased and now damp prick to swell again, trapped in its transparent pouch. “You are really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked. I moaned loudly and shook my head “No,” which came out “Mmm.” “I thought so,” he smiled, digging into my balls a bit harder. “Everyone who experiences the transparent tie-up loves it. Of course, you’ll be in it almost as long as all the others before you put together. I’ll bet it’s soggy in there.” I nodded “yes,” which came out “Mmm.” “Well,” he said, “a while longer, and then we’ll feed you, because you’ve been good, and then we’ll put you into something you can handle long term since the next step is going to be of considerable duration.” He left again, but returned after only what seemed a relatively short time. Since my ability to tell time was now quite distorted, I have no idea if it was thirty minutes or over an hour.

With a scissors, he cut through the plastic tape, freeing my legs first and walking me into the bathroom. As he freed my hands he tied them behind my back, then he moved on to my upper body and head. The tape over my mouth tugged as he pulled it away because I had now grown something of a starter beard. He gave me lots of water, let me use the toilet, and then regagged me with a simple plug gag. Then I showered, which I needed badly. When dry, he put me into a fresh jock strap.

Back in the bedroom, Adam removed the gag, so now my only bondage was my hands tied behind my back. I sat at the table and he fed me a hamburger, some fries, lots of Coca Cola, and a small salad. Then he returned the plug gag. Back in the bathroom he removed the jock and I relieved myself again. More water and then back to the bedroom with the jock returned to its former position over my bent penis. This time it was my turn to sit in the wheel chair which sat there empty and waiting for me. Adam replaced the cuffs on my wrists and ankles. He tied twine to my little toes and stretched the other end to the sides of the chair, so that I could move my legs about within limits. One piece of heavy string with about a foot of slack provided a surprisingly effective restraint. My wrists were more heavily secured to the arms of the chair, but I could also move them almost a foot in any direction. He put a leather harness around my upper body, and from its rings ropes fastened me to the chair but allowed me to move my upper body, although not too far. I could stand a bit, raising my butt about six or eight inches above the seat. “How’s that?” he asked. “Now you have the freedom of the room.” And I did, as my hands reached the wheels of the chair. I found I could move about the room at will. “You’re set for a long time,” he said. “Enjoy.” Then he left.

I immediately headed for the door to follow him, and discovered that it was locked. I had the freedom of the room, but could not leave it. I cried out into the gag, which was only moderately effective so the noise was louder than before. I continued to bellow. Finally Adam returned carrying a large Ace bandage. He wrapped it around my head, over the gag, firmly, from front to back and under my chin, over the top of my head. It effectively reduced me to subdued grunts and moans. Then he left. Helpless, I explored the room, moved in the chair, listened to the music which now must have been at least in its fifth or sixth replay. Whenever I hear one of the pieces now, I recall my bondage and get an instant hard on. It may have altered my feelings for some classical music forever.

How long I rolled around the room I have no idea, but it seemed like an entire night or longer. Truly it was “the all-time endurance session.” I slept off and on, again probably more than I realized. When Adam reentered the room, he undid me from the chair, let me use the bathroom, gave me food and water, and then using plain rope, tied me up on the bed. My hands were behind my back and my upper arms were tied, my knees and ankles were bound, and I was hog tied with my ankles secured to the rope that held my upper arms. I still wore the jock strap and the gag and Ace bandage which he replaced after I was fed. He played with the pouch of the jock for a while, driving me wild and making me as firm as the jock allowed. Then he left.

After at least an hour, and probably longer, Adam returned leading a young man. He was average, not especially good looking, with very short black hair. His arms were bound like mine, and Adam put him on the bed next to me, tied his legs, and hog tied him. He was also gagged with the elaborate gag like the one I wore the first night. Without saying anything, Adam left us. We squirmed around on the bed together, moaning through our gags. In time, he moved closer to me, finally touching me, pushing his jock encased prick against mine, and bumping and rubbing it as firmly as his bondage allowed. I enjoyed the sensation, and returned the favor. Neither of us came, but I was close a few times. Perhaps two or three hours later Adam came back into the room and saw what was going on, and immediately left for a few minutes. He came back and roughly rolled me over while pushing an athletic protector cup down into my jock. He did the same to the young man. “None of that,” he said. Then he left. The two of us spent the next few hours on the bed together, moaning, moving about, inhibited by the rope, the gags, and most of all by the cups. It wasn’t so much fun any more.

Adam returned after another long spell and took the young man away, then he untied me except my arms and we did the bathroom and food routine again. When I was finished he gagged me with the plug gag and Ace bandage and again tied me securely to the wooden chair, exactly as he had done before, and then he left. After an hour or so, I guessed, in came someone dressed in a long coat, his face covered with a ski mask, pushing the wheel chair with a man in it. The man was encased in leather just as the man in the wheel chair had been before. The man pushing the chair left it beside me, and walked quickly out of the room. The bound man, who might have been the same one as before for all I could tell, moaned, and nodded at me. I returned the muffled greeting. We sat there for a long time, listening to the music. Maybe two days had passed, maybe only one, I had no idea. It seemed like a very long time indeed. I ached all over, my jaw, my mouth, my arms, my legs—every part of me.

Finally the disguised figure returned and wheeled my bound friend out of the room. I stayed put, squirming, restless, wondering what next. I had all but stopped protesting into the various gags as it obviously did no good. Adam had taken my instructions completely to heart, Time dragged on as the music continued, over and over, switching from disk to disk. I lost count. I slept a little but I was exhausted and sorer than ever when Adam returned. “That was a good hour for you,” he said. An hour! It must have been five or six or more, I had no idea how long I had slept. Had I lost track of time that badly? I couldn’t believe it. We did the bathroom, exercise, shower, and feeding routine again. The exercise period felt wonderful. Lots of water, I was really thirsty. Back went the plug gag, but no Ace bandage this time. When we returned to the bedroom, Adam put a fancy leather codpiece-thing on me. It had a lubricated plug that he inserted in my anus, and it fastened firmly around my waist, holding in place a rigid pouch that just barely contained my genitals. I protested, but it did no good. Then Adam had me sit on the edge of the bed, and he replaced the simple plug gag with the more elaborate and formidable one I had worn the first night, so long ago. He untied my hands from behind my back and tied them at the wrists securely in front of me, then he replaced the mitts and locks. He had me sit up on the bed, toward the center. He pulled my legs up so that my ankles were close to my buttocks, and then put my bound hands down in front of my lower legs just above the ankles. He then inserted a long rod under my knees and over the bend in my elbows, making it impossible for me to move my hands, and locking me in the folded position. He then tied my arms and legs around the pole so that it would not slip away. He put a rubber swim hat on my head, then wrapped the gag and my head with shiny black tape, so that my head was securely bound. More rope from my ankles under me and up the back held my legs firmly in place. Rope around my head over my eyes and then fastened to my wrists pulled my head down and held it there. It was the fiercest bondage yet, I could hardly move anything. Surprisingly, it turned me on, and my prick tried to swell in its leather trap. I had no idea how long I could endure such fierce confinement. Adam checked me over, then used ropes fastened to my arms, legs and trunk to secure me to the top, bottom, and sides of the bed, so that no amount of squirming would move me from my position in the middle. The ropes running from the bed to my body must have made me look like an oddly shaped circus tent being held in place. Blessedly, Adam put a new set of disks in the CD player, then left the room.

I squirmed, struggled, shouted into the gag, which was the most brutal yet with the tape holding it so firmly, and tried my best to free myself. At this point I really did want to be freed. I got nowhere. So there I sat as the music played. This time Adam changed the player so that it altered disks after each cut so I had no way of telling time. But it seemed that I sat there forever and my body ached. No words can describe how badly I wanted out of this situation. My prick struggled to become erect, and that hurt. My mouth ached from the gag. The rod hurt my legs and arms. I was ecstatic and miserable at the same time. I tried to change position and fall over, but the ropes held me firmly upright and in place. There was no escape. Adam had really done it to me this time.

When he finally returned, he sat on the bed, between the ropes, and asked, “How are we doing?” “Mmmmmuummm-mmm-mmm” I shouted in the gag, unable to raise my head and look directly at him. “You want more?” he laughed. “NO” I screamed, but it came out the same “Mmmm.” “Yes?” he said with mock surprise. “I thought this would be too severe for anything very long, but if you want more, so be it. After all, you said there was no limit. I have to admire a man who can take it.” And with me protesting for all I was worth, he left the room. And so maybe another hour or two—an eternity—passed. Who knows? I was truly sore and miserable.

When Adam came back he released me, finally, and we went through the exercise, shower, food, and water routine. I came to look forward to the exercise, and wanted it to continue as long as possible. I had learned to take the transitions without saying anything when ungagged, as I disliked being hungry and I now realized that it wouldn’t get me anywhere. This time, he put me back in the snug posing trunk and tied me to the bed exactly as he had the first night with the same gag, but no tape. It was a relief to be able to move about a little, and I slept off and on.

The next time Adam entered the room, he was fully dressed in his Levi’s and a nice shirt. He turned off the stereo, and came over to the bed, sat down, and asked, “Are you ready to be set free?” I nodded, yes. “Too bad,” he said. “There’s much more.” I sighed. We did the bathroom and water routine, but no exercise. Regagged, in another new jock strap, and tied hand and foot, he had me hop to the table which he bent me over. My hands were behind my back, tied at the wrists. He untied and spread my legs and secured them to the table legs. Straps over my back lashed me down with my stomach and chest firmly pressed against the table top. Two ropes from my hands went past my head on either side and to the top of the legs on the far side, pulling my arms up slightly but not too uncomfortably. I looked up at Adam with the saddest eyes I could muster, but he only reached between my legs from behind me and patted my jock pouch which was vulnerable, he massaged my cock for a while and went away. This proved to be uncomfortable after a while, but I was becoming inured to pain. Time floated. Maybe I was there forever.

On his next visit, the bathroom, water, and back on the bed in another repeat of the first night except this time the spread-eagle position was strict and there was no room for movement. I just lay there, telling myself over and over that I was even more crazy than I had realized and that this would end eventually.

When Adam returned, he sat on the bed and again asked if I was ready to be freed. Again I nodded, “Yes.” “Okay,” he said, and he removed the gag. “You can talk now. How long do you think you have been here?” he asked. “I have no idea—for sure two days,” I guessed. “No,” he said. “This is Tuesday noon. You’ve been here since Friday evening. You’ve been here almost four days. You can have more if you want it.” “Thanks,” I said. “But this will do.” “To get entirely free,” he said, “there is one thing you must agree to do.” “What?” I asked. “You must write up this experience completely, with details, for BOUND & GAGGED and we will send it to them.” I thought about it for a while and agreed.

He freed me entirely, and we walked out into his living room, me forgetting that I was wearing only the posing trunk in which I had started my bondage adventure. There I saw Clifford and the other man who had spent time tied up with me. He was introduced as Fred, one of Adam’s regulars. We sat on the couch in the front room and talked. What had I liked and disliked. I explained how fierce the bondage with the rod had been. He showed me a photograph in BOUND & GAGGED of a Japanese man done up almost the same way. “I’ve been anxious to try it on someone ever since I saw this,” he said happily. “You did well.” We laughed about the letter to The Guinness Book of World Records which was Adam’s joke. “Did you worry when I threatened to keep you here for weeks?” he asked. “Yes,” I admitted. “And it would have been my own fault if you had,” I added.

Then he asked if I knew either of the two men who had been in the wheel chair. I confessed that I did not. “Well,” he said, “the first was your friend Clifford.” That surprised me as Clifford has not liked long term bondage that much. “The second was me. Rarely, but now and then I like to be on the receiving end, although I prefer to do the tying.” He asked if it seemed that I sat in the chair very long the second time. “An eternity,” I answered. “You stayed a long time, and I was there alone for a long time.” “There’s a reason,” he explained. “Clifford and Fred decided that I was being too easy on you, so they kept me bound and gagged for a few hours longer—way beyond our arranged time. They refused to release me but just sat here and laughed at me, teased me and made jokes at my expense.” Finally, he explained, they had let Adam go, and he tended to me. After that, neither Cliff nor Fred would let Adam tie them up again. But Fred was a regular, and I fear that his next scene with Adam might be considerably longer than he anticipates.

“Let’s go have a late lunch,” Adam said. I agreed, went to the bedroom, retrieved and put on my clothes. We had a quick meal. Back at the house Adam showed me a video tape, put it in his player, turned on his TV, and we watched—ME! He had a hidden camera in the bedroom, and had recorded my entire scene—almost fifteen tapes. “You can watch these whenever you want,” he said. “They’re yours. They get a bit boring after a while, when there’s no activity. You might want to edit this down to one or two good productions.” He also gave me the ten soiled jock straps I had worn over the four days. He and Fred and Cliff had taken turns watching me through the entire time, so that if anything happened, they could rush to the room and free me. Adam had taken every precaution, just as he had promised. The only glitch came when Cliff and Fred kept Adam tied up beyond the plan. And Adam didn’t seem to mind that too much.

Cliff and I went home. I was tired and anxious for a good long unencumbered night’s sleep. Right after dinner I crawled into the large bed that I shared with Cliff, and fell into a hard deep sleep. Thrilled that my fantasy had been fulfilled, I was content. I stirred a little when Cliff arrived, we had sex, which I badly needed, then I immediately fell back to sleep for the night. About a week later I woke as it was beginning to get light, feeling movement in the bed. It took a while for me to comprehend what was happening as I can be a heavy sleeper. Cliff was busy tying my hands behind my back. As I became fully awake, he moved to my legs, and as I began to protest that the rope marks from my long session hadn’t entirely gone away yet, he shoved the plug gag into my mouth. “So you like being tied up for a long time?” he sneered. “Well sir, don’t plan to go anywhere today.” And that started another scene that I might write about later. Since then Cliff and I have explored more bondage positions and long term scenes. I love them and am happy that now he is willing. I won’t need to bother Adam anymore, I think. It has been a summer of exciting scenes for both of us as Cliff has gained a much better appreciation of bondage and my needs.

That was my summer. My experience is not something I would recommend to others. I was fortunate to find Adam. During the four days I was often miserable, and I could have found myself in deep trouble. I was lucky that everything turned out alright.

http://www.metalbondnyc.com/ should go on your list of daily website visits IMMEDIATELY.

Metalbond’s website has been in existence for many years and is ‘dedicated to the physically restrained male’.

If heavy metal bondage, caging, imprisonment and chastity is of interest to you then you simply MUST visit his website.

And lots of gratitude must go to Metalbond for the support he continues to give to the Heavybondage blog. Thank you!

Identify deleted…objectification achieved.

All of these images were found on the internet. Credit must be given to the creators of these images. If any of these images belong to you and you would like them removed then please contact me via this blog.

‘The Prisoner’ continues to face the dubious hospitality of ‘The Captor’. In this latest escape challenge, ‘The Prisoner’ finds out that chances of freedom have been literally suspended…

…video link at end of post.

#suspended – a bondage movie – part 2 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

‘The Prisoner’ finds himself rubbered up, chained up, hung up and locked down…in more ways than one…coming soon…

A rubber clad ‘Prisoner’ remains imprisoned in the lair of ‘The Captor’ and unable to find a way to escape. Chains (and more chains) literally keep ‘The Prisoner’ hanging around and unable to free himself…

#wellhung – a bondage movie – part 2 from Heavy Bondage on Vimeo.

Watch Part 1 at https://vimeo.com/209643797