Author: Boyinacage
At 38 it was looking a bit bleak but financially comfortable. I’d just come out of a 10 year relationship. We’d sold the house for a substantial profit as we’d bought before the boom and I had to move. They were downsizing the government department I was working in and I had the option of taking a generous voluntary redundancy. It was all happening at once. Our relationship had been on the rocks for a while, after 8 years we had decided to “open” the relationship. Thomas had decided to pursue what I would call “twinkies” and I had decided to pursue a leather/rubber style of engagement with the world.
The upside for me was that I was a good looking 5′10″ with a good gym toned body, tanned with a comfortable amount of hair to put me in the older cub group. However, “opening” our relationship was the final straw, and whilst we parted on reasonable terms we knew the future was no longer together. As things soured I took a step back from “our” friends and started talking about spending a few years roaming Europe, something I could afford to do if I was careful with the house money and the redundancy money.
As always with these things the redundancy process took some time as the union was involved in improving what I considered to be a generous deal. However, the result of their negotiations would probably have been worth 2 years salary in a lump sum, so I was prepared to sit it out at the office for a few months in the hope that they were successful. This did lead to a quandary though, I didn’t want to buy another property and I didn’t want to sign up for a fixed period lease. As I told everybody I met, as soon as the money was agreed on, and paid, I was off to Europe.
Fortunately, one of the guys I knew from my local leather bar, had just purchased an older style one bedroom apartment that needed some renovation, and offered it to me on a week by week basis if I did some work on it. He also suggested that I keep quiet about the arrangement as he didn’t want every tom, dick and harry trying it on for free rent. Fair enough, the guy was pretty cool and over the previous 6 months had tied me up a few times, and I envisaged that this was a good way to encourage it a few more times. He was known around the traps as being a bit of a heavy bondage, slave Master, but I’d only ever had done some light rubber bondage with him and a great mummification scene once.
The house settled in early February and I duly moved into Frank’s apartment. It was mid-summer in Sydney and with the long evenings I got stuck into the renovation groove after work. Every now and then Frank would drop by to see how it was coming along. When I was working on the apartment I would monitor my favourite leather/rubber contact site and respond to the odd message. Got me some great scenes and I started to get involved in some heavier stuff. I started wearing a rubber surf suit under my work shorts and tank top when I was renovating. The feel of the sweat underneath as I sanded the floors was something I wish I had discovered earlier in life. I tried it a few times at the office under my suit but found that I would often end up with unfortunate sweat marks on my trousers just above the knee.
One of the clubs in the gay precinct holds piss parties once a month and I decided I’d give it a whirl at the meet before Mardi Gras. I met a great guy from France who, before I knew it, had wrapped me up in cling film and duct tape. An interesting sensation. From out of nowhere he produced a piece of clear tubing with a funnel at the end which he managed to slide down between my pectoral muscles. For the next few hours nearly everybody had had the chance to use the funnel. As my first watersports experience it was pretty cool, the feel of the warm liquid as it made its way between the cling film and my skin was just sheer bliss. Later, he added a Russian gas mask and slipped the breathing tube under the plastic as well. What a smell! The acrid aroma of urine did something to my senses that just made me go wow!!! Even if it did take nearly a week for the smell to go away.
At the end of the evening we had a cup of coffee in the lounge area downstairs. He insisted that we cshould catch up again so he could teach me a few other tricks. As a sign of his conviction, and probably my madness, I let him lock a CB3000 on me. He kept the key and took my phone number. The idea being held that way until he left after the Mardi Gras party was somehow, well, horny. So now, after work, I was wearing the surf suit with a CB3000 under it whilst I was renovating. We saw each other every second night up until Mardi Gras and most of my remaining friends had us down as “an item”.
The last time I saw the Frenchman was the evening before the party, he came around very excited, he was up to something later that night that I must admit it was a bit lost in the translation. He tied me down to the bed and enthusiastically fucked me to the heavens. After a short nap he decided he’d like to do a bondage scene. We went to the back of the apartment where the plaster had been removed from the wall braces. He had me get into my new rubber body suit wearing the CB3000 and a standard butt plug in my arse (a bit loose after the fucking). He then had me sit against the wall braces with my arms stretched to the side horizontally. I was then tied into position. He then spread my legs on the ground and tied them to a piece of wood about four foot long, effectively spreading them and leaving my encased cock and balls open to assault. He finished off by putting the Russian gas mask on me. Then he did something we had never done before, he pissed down the breathing tube. I don’t think mentally I enjoyed that at all, although my cock went as hard as it could in its cage.
He then lent down and said he’d see me in the morning, took one last piss over me, and left. I then had, at my calculation, at least 12 hours in this predicament. I’m not sure I liked it although I vacillated between the intensity of knowing there was no way out, that I was very vulnerable, the fear he wouldn’t return and the expectations from being completely under somebody else’s control as well as the anticipation of what he would do on his return.
I was never to find out. At around 7 the next morning Frank wandered in to see how I was getting on. It would have been great to see the expression on his face, but in reality I was dozing off with a gas mask on. Apparently after wandering around the apartment he realised I was alone. He pulled off the gas mask and quizzed me about the situation. Once I had explained the last few weeks he was amazed, particularly when I explained the feelings I was having waiting for Pierre to come back. He told me that he never realised I would have been into all of this and started tapping my hidden cock and balls with the tip of his boots. After a few minutes of grimaces on my face he realised that I had a CB3000 on.
He disappeared into the bedroom and returned with my pecker gag and a blindfold. He knelt down beside me and told me I wouldn’t be seeing the Frenchman again and before I could say anything I was wearing the gag, and a lot tighter than I was use to at that! He then put the blindfold on me. After that I could feel his feet pressed to the outside of my thighs and then his fingers started playing with my nipples. Gently at first and then harder and harder. My cock is definitely connected to my dick and it, once again, pressed against the confines of its cage. As he played with them I felt him begin to piss. Hitting my face and chest some of it ended under the rubber. I began to feel a little bit embarrassed and a little bit humiliated.
This was completely unexpected with somebody I hadn’t planned to be involved with, much. It was contrary to my fantasies with the man and I didn’t know where it was going to go next. After about five minutes he stopped. The Frenchman had returned I could overhear a conversation. I have no idea, even today, what they discussed. However, they left together, and an hour or so later only Frank returned. I know when he returned because I was drenched again in Piss again. It was probably another hour before he came and released me.
Exhausted from 15 hours of slumberless dozing I went to stand only to be pushed firmly to the ground again, my hands were cuffed behind my back. I found a motorcycle boot pushed under face. Frank then told me that I was to remain silent accept when answering his questions and when not talking I was to polish his boot with my tongue. He then quizzed me about my weekend and any arrangements I had. For him it was fortunate that I had been intending to spend it with the Frenchman, probably not so for me. I then got a long lecture on mixing with strangers and was told I was going to be punished for getting myself in a situation that he had to extract me from (I didn’t think that was warranted but he was currently the boss).
Frank pulled me up and took off the blindfold, I was a little a taken a back as when I saw him earlier he was dressed in gym gear, now he was head to toe in motorcycle gear. He really was a sexy man. He pulled me to him and offered me a deep passionate kiss, I responded, although my cock was still captive to the CB3000. I was given clear instructions, if I behaved myself I would get the cage unlocked he told me, dangling the key from Pierre’s chain (he actually paid Pierre for it, I learnt later). Having agreed to this he unlocked the cuffs and told me to take the rubbers off, which I did. He then told me to take the butt plug out and go and clean myself up in the bathroom.
Coming out of the bathroom I noticed a leather sleep sack on the bed. I was told to get into it. I slipped my arms in the inner sleeves. Frank then zipped it up, leaving my still encased cock and balls exposed. He then produced a full Mr S hood with a grommet hole only for breathing with straps under the chin and around the head. Before securing it he told me I needed some sleep and he would come around after 5pm to give me the punishment I obviously deserved. As I lay there, now hooded, I wondered how I let this man do this to me without a whimper of protest from me. I felt the cage come off and felt myself manually released. The climax was intense – I wanted more. The cage went back on and I fell into a deep relaxed sleep.
Part 2
When I woke up it was from a very deep sleep and it took me a few minutes to realise my predicament. Completely hooded and unable to move I tried to get a grip on what was happening. It was an eerie silence and I felt hungry and thirsty, I was also realising that I was in desperate need to relieve my bladder. I lay there for what seemed like hours before I couldn’t hold it any longer. It was then that I felt hands on my hood, unstrapping the hood took a few minutes and when it came off I realised it was now dark outside. Frank was looking down at me smiling, he told me that he would let me out shortly.
He disappeared out of eyeshot for a few moments and when he came back into view he had the pecker gag again. On it went. I was then informed that I would be released, and fed, as soon as I relieved myself. Here was a quandary, I had been holding it in for a long time and felt that I should be allowed to go to the lavatory as a reward for my stamina. On the other hand if I went now my bed was going to get soaked. As these thought went through my head Frank sat on my stomach and I could hold it in no longer. The humiliation was acute and the thought that I was going to have to sleep in a piss soaked bed didn’t help.
Frank seemed to be annoyed and told me I was in for extra punishment now that I had wet his favourite sleep sack. He then did as promised and let me out and told me to stand to attention in front of him. This was also a bit humiliating standing naked except for a gag and CB3000 in front of my landlord. He then laid down some new “rules” – if I didn’t like them I would have to be out of the apartment by mid-night. If I accepted them I could go to the Mardi Gras party and enjoy myself. I was stunned, but the conditions weren’t that onerous in the end, so I accepted.
Indeed, all I had to do was agree to continue wearing the CB3000 until Easter. Frank would pop me in bondage occasionally – when he felt like it, and I would continue to work on the apartment after hours. He would also require my password to the chat sites I was enrolled in. Finally, I was to keep talking up my “planned” trip to Europe and I wasn’t to discuss this new arrangement with anybody. If this all worked, and I was happy with it, we would discuss a long term bondage session for the Easter Break. Again, this was fine by me as I was hoping that the union would have the redundancies in play by May.
Having agreed to the terms of the agreement I was told it was time to accept my punishments. Again, these were not all that bad. He then turned me around, pushed me onto the bed, and started to give me one of the best fucks I think I’ve ever had. If this was the definition of punishment I was onto a good thing with my “conditions”. However, one of the things that Frank didn’t tell me was that he was going to put a proper chastity device on me with a butt plug for the party. Actually, it was those tough rubber shorts with the padlocks rather than a chastity device. The upside was that the CB3000 didn’t show, the downside was that any thought of slutting about at the party was now gone.
The party itself was excellent, the music and the shows, as well as the dancing was great. I had run into a number of friends and acquaintances and as per my agreement with Frank didn’t mention anything about our bizarre relationship – indeed I may have got carried away in my enthusiasm for my planned year in Europe. Indeed most people seemed to be expecting it because of the way I had been hanging about with Pierre, another subject I didn’t mention.
It would have been lunchtime when I got home on the Sunday. As always, the first thing that I did was turn on my computer to check the fetish chat sites. Sitting down at the computer I could see immediately that Frank had been into my account whilst I was at the party. Looking around it appeared that he had looked at each of the profiles of people I had been corresponding with and read the message histories. My relief was palpable when I saw that he hadn’t written to any of them on my behalf. Having noted this I now had to deal with an issue that had been badgering me all night and that was going for a piss. With the shorts padlocked on I had no way of going and at one stage at the party, fortunately I didn’t have the urge as I tend to dance more than drink at parties – if you get my drift.
Now of course, at home, having a few bottles of water to rehydrate, I needed to go, and there was nothing for it but to take my shoes and vest off and stand in the shower and relieve myself by letting it run down my legs from under the bottom of the shorts. Not so bad when the hot water of the shower is running over you at the same time. Relieved, I climbed out of the shower and into my bed to doze away the rest of the day and await Frank to let me out of the shorts.
I awoke at around dusk, in the shorts I was experiencing a painful attempt at a hard on (limited by the CB3000) and an urge to expel the butt plug that was being held in by the shorts. When I became fully conscious I also became aware that my legs were tied spread-eagled to the bed and that Frank was yet again sitting at my computer. Again, he was dressed head to toe in his motorcycle gear, which really just made things even more difficult in the confines of my shorts. Fully awake now I rolled my head sideways and said hello to him. He turned around and gave me a hard look.
After looking at me for what seemed like hours he got up and walked over to me. He bent over and gave me a kiss. He then produced out of thin air a piss gag which he put on me before I realised what he was doing. He then went back and sat on the chair and stared for a few more minutes before starting to talk in a low soft voice. He let me know how surprised he was at the things that I appeared to be into and curious as to why he had not noticed this interest before. I was then told that he had changed the passwords to my chat sites and would prefer it if I didn’t use them any more, as he could supply me with as much of that sort of stuff I had been slowly moving into. He then enquired as to whether I was hungry and thirsty. When I nodded my head he told me that his new little doggie was going to need to beg.
Ummm. Beg? I tried to protest through the gag. He stood up and climbed onto the bed. He stood up straddling my thighs with his motorcycle boots. Beg is what I had to do he said or else I wasn’t going anywhere. Then he started taunting. “Does doggie want a drink?” I just lay there. “Does doggie want a drink?” I didn’t move. “If doggie doesn’t answer he’s going to get very sore balls - does doggie want a drink?” He then kicked me the balls and asked again. The pain shot up through me and this time I nodded. “What does doggie want?” he asked. I said nothing. He kicked me in the balls again “What does doggie want?”
I tried to call out “a drink” through the gag, he said, kicking me in the balls again. “A drink, sir, I want a drink”, it probably sounded more like “a ink ir ah on a ink”! He kicked me in the balls again telling me to beg louder. I did as he asked. “OK doggie here it comes” and at that he pulled his cock out and pissed a stream straight for my gag. Fortunately, he didn’t aim it all there as I tried to gulp the acrid taste down. He pissed up and down my body as well as all over the bed. “What do you say boy?” he asked “ank oo ir” I replied.
“Good boy,” he said, “do you want to get out of those shorts, boy”, I nodded, trying not to choke on the dribbles of piss still finding their way down my throat. He put his right boot on my chest with the tow just under my chin. “I’m sorry boy, I didn’t hear that, speak up.” I responded as best I could. He climbed off the bed and lifted up some manacles attached to a metal neck restraint by a short chain. He then pulled my body up to sitting position, pushed my hands behind my back and attached the manacles. He then attached the neck iron into place, locking it with an alan key. I was then told that he would release my legs from the bed and that if I wanted the shorts off in time for work the next day I was going to have to beg. In fact what he wanted me to do was crawl across the floor and lick his boots and beg. As good as his word, he undid my legs and went and stood on the other side of the room.
Getting off the bed I did as he directed, as difficult as it was. When I got there he took the gag off. “Lick the boots boy”, “you love it, don’t you dog”, “go on, big licks, like you mean it boy”, “that’s it boy”, “what do you want boy?”, “can’t hear you boy” and so it went on for nearly half an hour. “OK, boy, get my bone”, I could see it under his leather and he released it for me. “Suck the bone boy”. As I started he grabbed my head and held it over his cock. Pushing it backwards and forwards I gagged time and again until he exploded in my throat. “Good boy”. “We’ll take your shorts off now boy”, he said rubbing me behind the head.
Before he helped me up he put a rubber pecker gag in my mouth and padlocked it on. The metal cuffs and collar stayed on as he lifted me to my feet. He then got down on his knees and unlocked the shorts – they were pretty putrid inside. Fair play to him though, he also undid the CB3000 and gave me the most exquisite blow job I’ve ever had. Having given me sexual release he took out the now painful butt plug and pointed me towards the toilet. This in itself was a difficult task as my hands were still behind me.
Once finished there he had me step into the bath, where a plastic footstool was sitting. I was told to get down on my knees and rest my stomach on the chair. Frank than applied an enema. Once completed he then let the shower run over me. Once finished I was told to lie face down on the bed where I was left for half an hour or so before Frank came back, unlocked my cuffs, rolled me over, and redid the cuffs in front of me. I was then commanded to follow him into the kitchen, on my hands and knees.
Frank sat down at the table where there appeared to be one setting. As he started eating he told me to do the same, pointing to a dog bowl I hadn’t seen. In the bowl was the same food as Frank was eating. I coughed a few times to make him notice the gag in my mouth. When he was finished eating he came over and told me he was disappointed that I’d not eaten anything, particularly because of all the trouble he had gone to. “Well boy, you won’t be getting fed this well again if you don’t like my cooking – boy, you’re going to be without any supper.” I tried to protest through the gag, after all it wasn’t my fault I couldn’t eat it.
He then dragged me out to the bedroom by the collar, telling me that he was going to be staying the night. I was fine with that until I discovered that I was going to be sleeping on the floor with a blanket. It also appeared that I was going to be sleeping with the CB3000, a butt plug and a hood on as well. At least the gag was gone, although the hood prevented me from opening my mouth so I was still effectively silenced.
Next morning was a work day and Frank was up early. I was released fairly readily from my bonds in the morning although Frank decided he was going to gaffer tape up my balls and the CB3000 before allowing me to dress for work. He also let me know that it was going to stay on for the full week as he was going to be away on business and would have the key with him. I was given strict instructions to maintain my usual routine.
This routine continued for the next month with Frank coming over on Friday’s before I got home from work. As soon as I walked in the door I was required to put on the heavy metal collar and strip. Sometimes we would talk about fantasies and desires which were often prompted by his quoting from discussions I had had on the chat rooms. He was particularly interested in my fascination with a profile that talked about long term bondage (eight days the guy had said), being treated like an object, (furniture, ashtray, urinal). I wasn’t sure about those things, but the fantasising had always worked for me beating off before I went to sleep.
It was the week before Easter when the redundancy payment came through and I had a week before our agreement came into play. Frank had asked me not to book my European trip just yet. He also asked whether I wanted him to check my post office box when I was away – I agreed to this and gave him a key. As the evening of Easter Thursday approached I prepared for my five days incarceration. I was looking forward to it.
Final Chapter
Frank had left his instructions in two envelopes, the first to be opened at 8pm. He had set up a webcam to watch the envelope and make sure I didn’t read it early. When I finally did get to read it the instructions were not very complex. Essentially I was to dress in my full latex neck entry suit - this suit had no zippers, had attached gloves and socks, and a small hole to push my cock and balls through (a tough job with the CB3000). I was then to put a pair of 501’s over the top as well as my leather jacket - I was then to put on my motor cycle boots. All you could see of the rubber was the gloved hands.
The next instruction was to repoint the webcam to the seat. I was to bring a box that was under my bed to the webcam and open it. I had no idea it was there. Inside were three bottles of gatorade and three bottles of lite beer - obviously they were warm. I was to drink them in the next 10 minutes and not move from my seat until midnight when I could open the second envelope - if I was to move the whole thing was off. Having drank the warm drinks I started to surf porn in want of something nore interesting to do.
By mid-night I was pretty sore from a full bladder. I opened the second envelope, its first instruction was that I had 60 seconds to move from the seat to the street outside - this apparently would be timed. I raced out in just under 55 seconds. The second instruction was to walk to the corner, stand there and piss in my jeans. This was harder to do despite the full bladder because I was self conscious – however I eventually managed it, indeed there was so much liquid in my bladder I couldn’t stop and my jeans were saturated.
It became all the more embarrassing as my next instruction was to walk down to a very isolated park in Rushcutters Bay and await developments. Obviously I had to now work out a route that wouldn’t take me through populated areas. Forty minutes later I arrived at the rendezvous and waited my instructions were to sit on the park bench and wait. Which I duly did. About five minutes later I felt a hand go over my mouth and the last thing I remember was the smell of chloroform.
When I woke I was completely naked, except for the CB3000 and a steel collar around my neck. The collar was attached to a chain that was bolted to the centre of the floor. The room was dark except for a single light shining out of the wall at the end of the room. I moved towards the light. It was behind a perspex sheet the covered the whole wall. The whole wall also seemed to be a mirror. There were scuff marks and dents in the perspex - I assumed the perspex was protecting the mirror. However, what really scared me was that my reflection showed that I had no hair, anywhere, period. Sorry, I had eyelashes, but no eyebrows.
I started yelling. In fact I yelled myself hoarse. The light at the end of the room went out. I fell silent. I lay on the cold floor and tried to think my way through it. After what seemed like hours the light came back on, and a few hours after that it went out again, it did this three or four times. I slept, when I woke, there was a dog bowl of water and one of dog food, a bucket and a note. The note said to eat and drink everything because I was only going to fed once a day. I yelled myself hoarse again, I then ate and drank as instructed, and used the bucket. I then fell asleep.
This continued way beyond the five days agreed. In fact it seemed to go on for months. The food appeared regularly, but always when I was asleep. The bucket was emptied as well. None of my hair was growing back. Then one day the food didn’t appear but Frank’s voice filled the air. I was told that I had been here for six months, that nobody knew I was here and that people thought I’d gone to Europe. He also said that he had complained to anybody who would listen that he was really upset with me because I had gone without paying my rent. I was then told that he was going to come into the room and that if I did anything except what he told me I would not be fed for a week. His instructions were clear – I was to crawl across the room and kiss his boots and await instructions.
When he entered the room I did no such thing – I got to my feet and complained about the lack of trust. He was dressed from head to toe in a latex uniform. As soon as I stood he turned around and left, he probably didn’t hear half my rant. The light and dark cycle started again without the food and one day when I woke up I was wearing steel manacles on my hands and legs. This time his disembodied voice told me he was going to come in and I was to crawl over to him and kiss his boots. Hungry, I did just that, although with difficulty because the cuffs were heavy and the chain between them was short.
I kissed and licked his boots like there was no tomorrow. He put a head harness on me with a piss gag. He locked the chain between my cuffs to the same point in the floor as my collar. Then he face fucked me. He then fucked me from behind. He finished by pissing all over me. He then walked out. The whole time he was in the room he hadn’t said a word. However, I was now completely bolted to the floor, gagged and harnessed.
Now on the feeding cycle I was given his recycled piss and what tasted like protein and fibre shakes. I was also now being plugged between meals. Each meal time I was servicing Frank. In fact when I heard the door being unbolted I would position myself of my own accord.
One day he came in and put ear plugs in my ears. A strong thick rubber hood was placed over my head with a built in piss gag and pepper pot eye holes. The CB3000 was taken off and a heavy steel ball was attached to my balls. The chain was detached from the floor and I happily crawled after him as he pulled the lead to the door. In the middle of the next room was a low gym horse, I was placed over it and my feet and hands attached to it. Later, the room filled with leather clad men, who enjoyed themselves, drinking and laughing and occasionally fucking my arse or pissing in my mouth.
This sort of thing started happening on more and more occasions. On another occasion I was put in a mail sack and taken to a farm. I probably spent over a month their servicing who knows whom, sleeping in straw. I was used as entertainment, pulling a sled, I was even left in a hole for a couple of days that appeared to be the bottom of the privy. It was whilst down that hole, under the can, that I realised that this was it. I was no longer, whats-his-name I was just something for others’ entertainment.