by smallcreep
Part 1
I followed Alan down the steps into the dungeon. We both wore jeans and t-shirts and I began to feel nervous as I saw the various rubber suits and restraints hanging from the walls, and the cage and sling and rubber bed in the semi-darkness of the room.
“This is where you’ll live for the next month or so - or however long it takes me to train you as my rubberman” he said slowly and deliberately.
I was beginning to have misgivings. Should I have really signed that piece of paper that gave him complete control over my body and mind? Would there be any way of going back on it if things became too hard?
“Take off your clothes” he said.
I pulled off the t-shirt and jeans and sneakers and he put them in a cardboard box.
“You won’t be needing them for a long, long time…” he said with a grin, “so I’ll keep them for you.”
I could tell from that grin that he was getting off on the power I’d given him. I’d always begged him to completely strip me of my identity and to make me serve him as a total rubberman. Now I was going to find out what it would be like.
I stood there naked in front of him - not cold though, as the dungeon seemed comfortably warm. He gave my semi-hard cock a gentle tug and his grin disappeared.
“Get into the gear I’ve laid out for you,” he said, pointing at a pile of folded rubbers on a table at the side of the dungeon, “and wait for your master.”
With that he turned and carried the box up the stairs and shut the heavy door behind him.
I walked over to the table and unfolded the rubbers. There was a suit with an all-round zip, a pair of gloves and a hood with eye-holes and a zip mouth. I pulled on the suit, already feeling turned on by the soft, clinging feeling. Then I slipped the hood on, zipping it tightly down the back of my head and fastening the collar. Finally I stretched the gloves back up my forearms.
I knelt down on the floor with my hands behind my back and waited for Alan to return.
I waited for ages. It seemed like over an hour, though it was difficult to tell in the warm silence of the room. I began to feel the moistness of sweat in my gloves and from the warm breath inside the hood.
Still I waited. I wanted to feel my cock - now hot and very hard - through the rubber. But I knew I mustn’t.
Then I heard the door. I heard the slow footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t look up. I knew he’d want me to be completely subservient and that was the best way I could think of showing it right then.
I saw his boots on the floor in front of me: gleaming, tall, rubber riding boots that almost reached his knees and the rubber jeans that came out of the top of them.
“Look up at me, slave.”
I looked up and saw him. My beautiful rubber master. My perfect rubber master. Tucked into his jeans was a shiny, tight rubber t-shirt and over that was a rubber biker jacket. His eyes gleamed lovingly - yet almost viciously down at mine - and his face was completely without expression.
“Have you anything to say, slave?”
“I love you master.”
“How much?”
“More than anything in the world master.”
“Will you let me do anything I want to you?”
“Yes master.”
“Whether it’s to turn me on, to service me, or even just because I get a kick out of it?”
“Yes master.”
He paused. As I looked at him he stared back and unzipped the mouth of my hood. It was only then that I noticed he was wearing tight rubber gloves too. He pushed one of them into my mouth - a couple of fingers first - and then nearly the whole fist till I almost gagged on it. But I just sucked on it for all I was worth. Tasting the strange taste of the rubber and loving the fact that he was already - in a small way - inside me.
With his other hand he unzipped the jeans and pulled out his big, hard cock. The end gleamed with pre-cum and he slowly pulled my hood onto it. It filled my mouth. It tasted beautiful. I worshipped it with my tongue and my lips.
As I played with it, my face being pressed hard into his shiny jeans by him, he began to speak.
“I am going to change you from the half-decent slave you are into my complete rubber slave. You will be perfect by the time I’ve finished training you. You will have no life, no face, no personality - but you will be perfect. You will live here in the dungeon encased in rubber and you will exist to serve my cock, to take my piss and to do anything that turns me on, no matter how degrading. I will dress you in whatever rubber gear I want - as many layers of it as I want - and you will be sealed into it, completely turned on by it and by your discomfort and you will be unable to do anything about it.”
I sucked harder on his gorgeous cock. It was getting harder (just as mine was) as he talked and thought about what he could do to me and I wanted it to just explode and fill my throat with white hot spunk.
Then he pulled my head away from it and pointed my face up towards his.
“Understand slave?”
“Yes master.”
He attatched a leash to the collar on my hood and pushed me down onto all fours. I followed him as he showed me round the dungeon. First he pointed to the sling with loads of restraints and chain and rope hanging off it.
“I will fuck you in this sling. I will keep you restrained in it. I will lay back in it and have you rim me and suck me off in it.”
Then he pointed at restraints hanging from the beams and coming out the walls by the floor.
“I will fix you in these and use you as I want. I will leave you stuck in them for hours while I go clubbing and I will fuck you senseless in them when I get back…”
He looked down at me, smiling wickedly. Then he pointed to the bed with the rubber sheets on it.
“Sometimes I will let you sleep on this bed…” then he pointed to a small wooden box nearby, “though mostly you will sleep padlocked inside that. You will of course sleep in full rubbers, possibly with a butt plug up you and your cock and balls trussed up. You will wear fist mitts too so that you can’t get at yourself. Understood?”
I nodded, turned on and frightened in equal amounts.
Alan pointed to a small cage that was just high enough to stand in.
“I will keep you in there much of the time…” he said. Finally he tugged on my leash and pulled me over to a large kind of a shower cubicle in the far corner.
“And this is where you will clean up whenever I tell you.”
He slowly walked back across the dungeon to the sling. I crawled behind him, dying for him to let me lick those boots. God, I thought. I love my master. How could I want anything but to be completely reinvented as his rubberman.
“Stand up” he said pulling on the leash. I slowly got up and we stared into each others eyes.
“We’ll start with something gentle - and then your torment begins.”
He manouvered me back into the sling and tied the loose end of the leash to one of the chains that it hung from. He fastened my wrists and ankles tightly into the straps that hung from the chains and padlocked chains around my body and through the rings in my collar until I was securely fastened into the sling. He smiled as he pulled open the zip of my suit around my arse. He pulled his cock out again and smeared it with KY. I shuddered and groaned as he slowly pressed it into my crack, the muffled noises from my hood making Alan smile. Soon his cock was completely in and the intense, almost painful feeling made me heat up inside my suit. Alan leant forward slightly, put his hands over my shoulders and gently, ever so slowly, rocked my helpless, shiny rubber body full of tingling nerves back and forth onto him. He kept it slow for ages and ages as I sweated and whimpered and gazed out of my hood into his stern, beautiful eyes.
As he got faster and faster I looked at the sweat breaking out on him, my gorgeous, perfect rubber sadist. He let out a huge grunt as he finally shot his load into me and I shook violently with him. My cock was pressed hard against the inside of my clinging, wet rubbers and felt like it might just explode at any moment. I whimpered with anticipation.
Alan cleaned his cock off on a towel and put it back in his jeans. Then he zipped my suit back up and stood next to me, running his gloved hands all over my body while studying the way he could make me shudder with delight at the slightest touch.
“Did you enjoy that, slave?” he asked eventually.
“Yes master. Thank you.”
“And what do you want now? Tell me honestly…”
“I want to come off, master.”
“Well you can’t. Not yet. You’re going to have to learn that the satisfaction of your cock means nothing. When you are finally my rubberman, you’ll want nothing more than to exist - sealed up in rubber - to serve my cock. You’ll forget that you’ve even got a cock of your own. Just as you’ll forget what it’s like not to wear rubber. What it’s like not to sleep in a box. What it’s like not to have a hood covering your head.”
“Yes master.”
“So what shall I do with you?” he said to himself after a pause, and continued feeling his way all over my suit, making sure he kept returning to my crotch so that I’d repeatedly arch up into all my restraints with a massive groan.
“I think we ought to start your training with some piss confinement, slave. What do you think?”
“Whatever pleases you master.”
“That’s better.” he said, pleased with my response.
One by one he took off the straps and chains and told me to stand up.
“Take the hood off” he said as he walked across to a rail with loads of suits, sleepsacks and straightjackets hanging from it.
As I pulled off the hood, streams of sweat ran from my hair and down my face. I looked at Alan. He held up a suit in front of me. It was made from heavy rubber and had feet and gloves as part of it. It also had a hood on it which had no eye-holes or mouth, but a number of tubes running from a raised area where the face should have been. A couple of them were small, thin tubes, another was a thick, corrugated one. There was a long dry-zip running up the back of the suit and I realised that it would be completely watertight.
“Shall I take this suit off first master?” I asked, as it was fairly hot just wearing the one layer.
“No,” he said, “and never speak unless I tell you to. Okay?”
I nodded meekly. Clearly I wouldn’t be allowed to suggest ways of making things easier on me in future.
“Get into it, slave.” he said, putting it on the floor.
I stepped into its feet and pulled the legs up. Then I found the arms and pushed my gloved hands deep down into them till they found the fingers at the end. It was a heavy suit, much thicker than the one I already had on and straight away I began to feel hot in it. Finally I pulled the head section back over my sweating scalp and everything disappeared into blackness. I could hear my breathing inside the small hollow space where all the tubes came in. The sound of the outside world was muffled and distant. I could hear Alan beginning to close the stiff, brass zip on the back of the suit.
I suddenly felt really claustrophobic and helpless. He really did have total control over me. There was nothing I could do. Although I felt frightened, my cock became rigid with excitement at being sealed up in a suit that was clearly designed to have people piss into it. I was surrendering to my master every last shred of dignity so that he could use me as some kind of human urinal. Presumably he needed a piss now, I thought. When the zip was fully shut and I was properly enclosed in my hot, heavy, rubber prison, Alan began to rub me all over again.
“You look beautiful, my slave. I might keep you in this a lot.”
It turned me on just knowing that it was turning him on doing such a degrading, sadistic thing to me.
“Come with me, slave.” he said and began to walk my unsteady body over to another part of the dungeon.
He pushed me down onto the floor and secured my feet with a pair of ankle-cuffs. Then I realised I was in the cage, because he pulled my arms between the bars and handcuffed them on the other side. Then he shut the cage door and I heard the metallic click of a padlock.
His voice was right next to the total blackness of my hood.
“I don’t need to piss right now,” he said, “but I probably will later. So you’ll be ready. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Good slave. You’d better get used to this kind of thing too, because this is how you’ll spend most of your waking hours: trussed up in rubber, waiting to serve me - either as my urinal, my cocksucker or my fuckpiece.”
And then he was gone.
For hours there was just silence around me. All I could hear was the noises my suits made rubbing against each other and the slick rippling of the inner suit on my drenched body. My breathing sounded loud, filling the hot, heavy hood with its wetness. Although it was fairly comfortable to be sat down, my arms and legs ached with the positions they’d been secured in. More hours passed. God knows how many - maybe four or five.
Then I heard the the door again and the boots coming down the steps. They seemed to take forever to cross the dungeon to me. My heart raced at the idea of being stuck in all this rubber and Alan filling it with his piss. My cock pressed itself against the suit.
Alan said nothing. I heard his jeans unzipping though and felt the thick, corrugated tube being lifted slightly.
There was a sudden rushing noise and then my master’s steaming hot piss gushed into my hood. Some poured into my open mouth, more splashed all over my face, neck and the shoulders of my inner suit. Some of it ran down inside against my skin, some outside over the shiny rubber. All of it showered into the heavy suit though: the rubber container that Alan had chained to the inside of the cage.
This was wonderful. Being put in total rubber enclosure (that I couldn’t possibly get out of) by the man I worshipped and having him fill up my suit with his piss. I almost came off as it rushed over me and into me.
Soon - and without a word - he was gone again and I was left in the silence once more. As well the sounds of my rubbers, I could now sense the atmosphere of this enclosed world. It reeked of piss and of sweat and of rubber. It filled the hood and my nostrils. I would have to learn to love this smell, I thought, as Alan would imprison me with it again and again.
After another hour or so - I think - he came back again. Once more he took a mighty piss down the tube. I almost laughed with pleasure at how good it made me feel to be showered by his fluids and to be contained in them like this. I wondered what I must look like to my master; this pathetic rubber figure chained up at his boots - totally faceless - with this tube that runs into the hood of his victim.
God, I loved him for doing this to me.
When he’d finished, I heard his rubber jeans creak softly as he crouched down beside me. He stroked my head.
“Good slave,” he said.
“You really are a good slave. You’ve been in that suit for quite a few hours now: you’re doing well. Now do you want me to let you out now or shall I shall I keep you in it for a while longer and do whatever I want for the rest of the evening?”
“Whatever you want, master” I said weakly into the hood.
“Good slave.” he said, stroking my head again and left me.
Soon after he’d gone, I found I couldn’t hold my own bladder any longer and pissed myself. Hot urine gushed up the inside of my suit, adding to the mess of sweat and pre-cum that already stuck it to my skin. Suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry. How could I do this to myself? Did I really want to live like this? Forever?
But I’d wanted this. Desperately. I’d wanted to become someone else - to become Alan’s rubberman. It was the greatest gift I could give him. It was the way I wanted to show how complete my love for him - my worship of him - was. To lose myself and become his object.
When he came back some time later he didn’t piss into my suit again, which I was expecting him to. He unchained me and led me to the shower cubicle. I stayed knelt down as he stood behind me and unzipped the suit.
“Wash and get naked” he said and shut the frosted glass door behind him before I could look up. As I pulled the suits off me, piss ran out into the shower tray, leaking from zips, falling out of the rubber limbs and streaming from my hair.
I rinsed the suits out and cleaned myself thoroughly. Then I hung the rubbers up on hangers just outside the cubicle. When I was completely dry I walked back out, naked, into the main part of the dungeon.
Alan lay on the bed, still in his rubber jeans and biker jacket, though he’d taken the t-shirt off. God, he was gorgeous. He looked every inch the master and I desperately wanted to suck him dry right there and then.
He held a cigarette in his right gloved hand and patted the shiny, black sheet with his left.
“Sit here, slave.” he said.
I sat naked on the rubber sheet. It felt good against my arse - all soft and horny. I looked at him - deep into his eyes as he continued to smoke and played with my hard cock and balls with his gloved hand.
“That feel good, slave?” he asked as he listened to my shallow, fast breathing.
“Yes master.”
“Want to come off now?”
“God yes, master.”
He smiled sadistically, knowing that I was at the point of just shooting my load all over his gorgeous, shiny gear.
“Well you’re going to have to do some good work with your tongue first. You can start with my boots.”
I licked those boots so hard, so lovingly. I worshipped them just like I worshipped his jeans and his jacket: his whole uniform - everything that made him look like the perfect sadistic master he was - the whole, shiny rubber uniform. I covered the jeans with my loving tongue too. The rubber tasted like sex. If I glanced up occasionally I’d see Alan looking at me, smiling. He knew just how much he controlled me - how much this training would allow him to do, just how far he could go. I knew from the smile that he was going to take me to hell and back… and he was going to get a pervy kick out of every bit of it.
He pulled me up towards him and shoved my face deep into his armpit and pulled the jacket over my head. I licked and licked while I felt his rubber gloves moving over my body, playing with my buttocks and my crack. Then I felt him pull my hands behind my back and snap handcuffs onto them.
He pulled me into a kneeling position next him and took his sweaty cock from out of the shiny, black jeans. I licked a load of pre-cum off the end of it and then felt his gloves tightening their grip on my head and him forcing my mouth deep over its length. Then he just kept pushing my head up and down, faster and faster and rougher and rougher on his cock until it shot a huge stream of hot, bitter cum down my throat.
He kept my face pressed down on it for a few minutes more as I drank up each last bit of gism that seeped from it.
“And now it’s your turn to come off slave,” he said and lay me back onto my restrained arms, wrapping his rubber-clad body around me. One glove moved over my mouth and pressed it firmly shut, while the other furiously wanked me off.
He whispered frantically into my ear between biting and kissing my neck.
“You’re going to wish you’d never signed that contract… I’m going to take you apart… experiment on your body… see what limits I can take you to… completely degrade you… torture you till you cry… I’m going to take away your identity, so you’re my nobody… my rubber slave…”
I screamed into Alan’s glove as my cum sprayed up my chest and my body arched into his. I shook with ecstacy as he continued rubbing my cock slowly and gently till it had run out of gism.
I kissed his jacket and his nipples and his cock while he undid my handcuffs, so grateful he had let me come off.
He wiped up my spilt cum with his gloved hands and pushed them into my mouth so that I ate every last bit of my own load - the beautiful taste of rubber and cum.
“Thank you master. I love you.”
“Lick my boots,” he said, ignoring me.
Straight away, I rushed down to them and licked them with all the love I could muster. After a while he pulled me back up so that I lay next to him and we shared a cigarette silently. And while I had the ciggy, his rubber fingers played gently with my nipples till I had a raging hard-on again.
He’d obviously meant for me to get that hard-on because at that point he said “Get into that suit,” and pointed to one that hung near the bed. Obediently I slipped my body into it, finding that the zip was at the back and finished down between my legs. There was no zip or panel at the front. Alan zipped it up for me and played with the huge erection that pressed up against the inside of the front of the suit.
“It’s going to be hard for you in that suit tonight isn’t it, slave” he said, grinning cruelly at me. He strapped long fist-mitts onto me as well so that I had no chance of working the erection off.
“To the box, slave,” he said and pushed me onto all fours.
I crawled over to it as he walked beside me, and then I climbed into it.
He knelt down next to me and pulled out a rubber blindfold from inside the box. As he put it on me, I made sure the last thing I could see was his beautiful, cruel eyes. Then all was darkness.
“Say goodnight to your master’s cock, slave.” he said pulling my face slowly forward into his crotch.
I kissed and licked and sucked on it until it was hard, and he began to push my face into it again and again. Finally with a huge grunt he came in my mouth. I swallowed it and licked the remains off his knob.
His gloves cupped my face as he kissed my forehead.
“This is nothing compared to what happens tomorrow. Goodnight slave.” he said after a while.
“Goodnight master.” I replied.
He pushed me down into the rubber sheeting and closed the lid of the wooden box, securing it with two heavy padlocks and leaving me in the sweaty, dark silence - alone with my fears, my anticipation and my painful hard-on.
Part 2
I was awake long before Alan came and unlocked the wooden box I’d slept in. The inside of my suit was drenched in sweat, and a huge load of pre-cum was smeared all around my cock which had refused to soften during the night. It had rubbed painfully up against my belly and the wet rubber of the suit, making it harder, making it leak more and more pre-cum as I tried to ignore it, my hands pathetically useless in the constricting, sweaty fist-mitts strapped onto my arms. It had been difficult to sleep at all in the stuffy confines of the box, my blindfolded head laid on an inflated rubber pillow and my soaking rubber-clad body curled up in a kind of foetal position. It was hot and uncomfortable and I still felt both frightened and excited by what might await me at the hands of my master now that I’d given him complete control over me.
I heard Alan undoing the padlocks that held the lid of the box shut and lifting it back. Straight away I could feel cooler, fresher air sweeping over my hot, wet body. He lifted me into a sitting position and took off my blinfold. As my eyes focused I could see him smiling at me out of a rubber hangman’s hood. The rest of his body was covered in a beautifully tight, shiny suit and gloves and waders. His gorgeous cock hung semi-hard from a small unzipped section of the suit, gleaming with pre-cum.
“Good morning, slave.”
“Good morning, master.”
“Get your mouth round my cock, slave” he said suddenly and sternly.
I quickly opened my mouth as he leaned forward over me while I still sat in the box. No sooner had my lips closed around his cock than it gushed a huge, hot wall of piss into my throat. I almost choked as it splashed around my mouth and filled it with a bitter, steamy taste. Alan’s gloves kept my head pressed firmly into his rubber crotch where he wanted it.
As I spluttered and gagged, trying to swallow as much of his juice as I could, it began pouring out of the sides of my mouth and down my suit. He pressed my head further down on his sweaty, rubbery knob as I continued drinking and choking on his piss.
He stopped and pulled his cock from my mouth, the smile back on his face, his eyes gleaming from inside the hangman’s hood. Then another burst of piss showered out, this time spraying my face and soaking my hair. Some stung my eyes, while more ran down into my mouth.
I’d never really liked the taste of piss - not unless it was pretty weak after a night on the booze - but I still worshipped it and wanted to taste it and drink it and be covered in it because it was HIS. It was like some fantastically obscene communion as I drank from his body, drank his waste - just to prove how much I loved him.
While I sat there, my head soaked in his hot piss, he picked up a hood from the floor next to him and zipped it tightly onto my head, buckling its collar roughly into place. It had no eye holes at all and fitted me perfectly - so tightly, filling my nostrils with the scent of rubber again and sealing in all that piss around my head and in my hair. It did, however, have a large open space for the mouth - much larger than the usual slits or zips.
“Are you really sweaty in that suit, slave?” he asked.
“Yes master, soaking.”
“Good… And you’re still hard from last night?”
“Yes master.”
“Let me feel…” he said and began to grope my crotch really roughly, making me squirm with pleasure and bursts of agony as he played. This went on for a few minutes till I could hardly bear it and wanted to scream for him to stop when suddenly his hand was gone. A few seconds later I felt a leash being attatched to my collar. He pulled me to my feet and walked me a few feet across the dungeon. I walked hesitantly and awkwardly, partly because of the lack of sight, partly because of the rubbing of my hard-on inside my suit.
Alan pushed me face down onto the bed while he - I think - sat down or laid down beside me, unzipping my backside and forcing a lubricated, rubber-gloved hand up into my crack.
“I want you to rub yourself off against the bed, slave.” he said, moving a finger around deep inside my arse. I moaned and whimpered and squirmed as it tingled and burned inside me.
With the fist-mitts on, it was difficult to make any kind of proper grip on the bed, but soon my tired, sweating body, cocooned in skintight rubber, was fucking the rubber sheets for all it was worth, breathing fast and shallow as I tried to reach orgasm without actually pissing myself at the same time.
Suddenly the muscles in my backside tightened round Alan’s fingers and my whole body seemed to go into spasm and I cried out loud a hoarse, wordless cry as hot cum splattered and shot up the inside of my suit. My cock seemed white hot and my limbs shook uncontrollably. My voice fell away and I was left, drenched and whimpering in the tight, wet void of my rubbers. My master slowly pulled out his fingers from my crack and gently stroked my back and my head. I could feel his rubber moving softly on mine and I loved him for putting me through such exquisite torment to pleasure the two of us.
“Good slave…” he whispered against my hood, “good slave.”
He stroked me a while longer and then turned me over onto my back. I lay there, blinded and expectant as I heard his waders creaking next to me and felt his beautiful, suited body moving somewhere above mine.
Then he knelt down right over my face, one wader jamming in on either side of my head - his calves held my useless arms down on the bed - and unzipped the arse of his suit. In no time he had settled his crack down onto the opening in my hood. Rubbery sweat from his back and his crotch poured into my mouth.
“Rim me, slave! Rim me for all you’re fuckin’ worth!” he shouted, wriggling his arse further into my face. I licked and licked, barely able to breathe underneath him, tasting his sweat and tasting his crack, thinking I was the luckiest man alive to have him - all rubbered up - shifting around on my face, lucky bastard slave that I am.
I could hear him moaning and grunting as I worked at his crack and soon his arms were reaching back and toying with my nipples - making me go at him even more frantically as my cock hardened once more.
Eventually he lifted himself off and I herad him playing with his zip.
“Mmmmm. Good slave.” he said as his body shifted somewhere above me. Then he settled down onto me again but a bit further back and I tasted a dangling strand of pre-cum that swung into my mouth.
“And now - as a reward for being so good you can have your breakfast. Do you want me to give you your breakfast, slave?”
“Please master.”
“Well here it comes…” he said viciously and rammed his cock deep into my mouth. I just lay there as he fucked my face, harder and harder and quicker and quicker. I moved my fist-mitts up behind him and stroked his buttocks as he plunged in and out of my throat.
“Aagh!” he suddenly shouted and, with a final jolt, shot a wave of hot spunk into me. I stayed still as he continued to move up and down on my face, slower and slower until he was exhausted and I had taken every last drop of his wonderful gism down.
After a while he got up off me and I heard him zipping his suit back up.
He pulled on my leash and helped move me up off the bed. I stood there completely disorientated in the blackness of the hood, still tasting his cum in my mouth as he slowly fingered my suit, playing with my nipples and running his gloves around my body, making me shudder with pleasure. Soon his hands reached the bulge of my cock and he rubbed it around, making it glide through the mess of spunk and sweat inside my suit. It was rock hard again and ached with every motion he made.
“It feels a bit messy in there, slave…” he said, taunting me.
“Yes master. It is.” I replied feebly.
He continued playing with the bulge for a while, probably studying the way my mouth twitched as he turned it on more and more.
“Come with me…” he said after a while and began to lead me across the dungeon. When we stopped he took the leash off my collar and began fixing restraints to my ankles, making sure my legs were spread slightly open. Then he lifted my arms up above me one at a time and, with them still enclosed in the fist-mitts secured them to some thick, padded restraints that were hanging from the ceiling on thick, heavy chains.
Then he unzipped my hood and took it off, putting aside on a table nearby. He came and stood in front of me, bringing a fearsome looking cat-and-nine-tails with him. He dragged its mass of rubber flails across one of his gloves, not taking his eyes off my face.
“I want to see your face while I do this…” he said, a cruel smile appearing beneath the hangmans hood and his beautiful eyes glinting at the pleasure he was about to have.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, slave…” he said, “but I’m going to give you a fucking good whipping.” He tenderly touched the side of my soaking face with his glove.
“But you’ve got to learn to take any torture I decide to give you… no matter how severe. And also I’m just going to get a big turn-on out of giving you the most extreme sensations that you never even knew existed - and that you never thought you could bear.”
He began to run the whip across my chest and then my back and my arse as he walked around me. Soon his beautiful, suited figure was back in front of me.
“And if you’re wondering why I’ve not stripped you for this, it’s because it’s going to sting even more through all the rubber and sweat. Now be brave and take this like the perfect slave you want me to turn you into…”
With that he started whipping my rubber-clad body, slowly at first, with intensely hot, stinging blows. At first I just made grunting noises and startled whimpers, but as the frequency and viciousness of the lashes increased I began to scream out loud. Not for mercy. Not for him to stop. But just because it was the only thing I could do.
He beat me all over: on my arse, up my back, on my nipples and on my crotch. Tears of agony streamed from my eyes as my body swung violently in the restraints, jumping at the explosions of pain that came with each blow. Through my tears I saw him stood in front of me in his suit and waders, swinging the lash across my hard-on, gritting his teeth, his eyes burning deep into mine.
After a while - along while - he stopped and my exhausted body hung limp in front of him as I cried uncontrollably at the washes of painful heat that spread out inside my suit. He put the whip away on the table and came back to me. I wanted him to kiss me but he just looked at the restraints and began to undo them one by one. When he’d taken them all off I just stood there. He put one of his gloved hands on top of my head and pushed me down onto my knees.
“Good slave…” he said as he undid the zip around his crotch and pulled out a huge, hard cock, streaming with pre-cum.
“Good slave…” he kept repeating as he pushed my face onto it.
I sobbed as I sucked on him, realising just how complete an experience he was going to make this for me. That pain was for real but he was doing it because I’d wanted to go through anything for him. He was just making sure I did go through everything for him.
His body jolted as he came in my mouth: warm, comforting spurts that told me he was rewarding me for the pain I’d gone through. The spunk kept coming - loads of it streaming in and rolling over my tongue and into the corners of my mouth. He kept my face pressed into his crotch for a while and then pulled me away so that I could look up at his beautiful, sadistic body and face.
The suit was skintight on him, as were the gloves, and his eyes were so intense they looked almost lit-up inside his hood. He smiled down at me.
“You did well, slave…” he said, running a glove through my sodden hair, “but you reek of piss.” He patted my head and walked away to the rail with all the suits and sleepsacks hung from it. He spoke as he rummaged through the gear.
“I’m going out shopping for a few hours so I’m going to have to leave you on your own and I don’t want you playing with yourself and trying to satisfy your own cock when you should be thinking of me…”
He walked back over to me carrying a heavy rubber straightjacket.
“Stand up, slave.”
I stood up and held out my arms, still sheathed in the tight fist-mitts, as he held up the straightjacket and put it onto me, feeding my arms deep into its long sleeves. Straight away the thickness of it heated me up even more than I already was and sweat began rolling from my hair, bringing the remains of my master’s piss with it.
He walked round behind me and zipped it up. Then before doing up all the straps, he opened the arse of my suit and pushed a heavily lubricated vibrator up it. I groaned as it made its way deep inside me and he strapped it into place with a tight crotch harness that it was attatched to. Then he fastened all the straps on the straightjacket extremely tightly, padlocking each of them shut. He did the same for the straps that went between my legs and the buckles and fastenings on the end of the sleeves. Finally he firmly locked up the stiff rubber collar of the straightjacket and walked round in front of me.
The constriction was making me ache already: this might well be a very long few hours for me, I thought.
Alan walked me over to the cage and sat me down in it, locking the door of it as he left. Then he knelt down next to me and I gazed deep into the eyes that sparkled from inside the hangmans hood as he smiled at me.
He held up a small plastic device with a button on it.
“Oh, and this is how I’m going to make sure you’re thinking of me while I’m away…” he said and pressed the button down.
The vibrator started up and my body jolted as my hard-on sprang up against the inside of my suit. I moaned. Then it stopped again.
“Now stay there, won’t you…” he said with the most cruel smile on his beautiful face. God I loved him for reducing me to this. God I loved him for having this much control over me. I nuzzled my face up to the gloved hand that held one of the bars in front of me and he watched, smiling at his pathetic and willing victim, as I kissed and licked it for minute after minute.
He leant his face into the bars and kissed me with a long, tender kiss.
Then without a word he got up, turned around and left me, switching the lights out as he closed the cellar door behind him.
I lost track of time really, totally disorientated by the dark and the silence and aching from the severity of the straightjacket’s tightness and the soreness of my whipmarks in the clammy wetness of my suit.
But after some long while I heard what I thought was the main door to the shouse shutting as he left.
The vibrator buzzed and throbbed as it burst into life, rubbing up against my prostate. I pictured Alan in his suit and waders brandishing the whip - and straight away I let out a huge, agonised moan as a fresh load of hot cum sprayed up the inside of my rubbers, my body squirming around in the cramping, padlocked security of the straightjacket.
Part 3
I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in from just being slumped there in the cage for so long. My skin felt sore and still smarted in the dampness of my suit from the vicious beating from Alan’s cat-and-nine-tails. My chest and arms ached with the constriction of the straightjacket, padlocked so tightly onto my helpless body and my arse ached from the thick vibrator strapped into it. I sat there for hour after hour, sweating in the darkness, drinking the streams that rolled down my face to try and quench my dry throat. I leant my temples against the cold steel of the cage bars to cool them down and shifted uncomfortably in my gism and all the other mess that was building up in my suit.
I thought I heard the distant noise of the front door as he returned but he didn’t come down to the dungeon for another two hours or so. I had no idea of what time it might be: there would be no daylight - only the light and dark that he decided I should have.
Finally I heard the heavy door to the dungeon being unlocked and his boots coming down the steps once he’d shut it behind him. The lights came on and I squinted for some time, trying to adjust after such a long period of total darkness. When I was eventually able to see, I found that he was stood near the cage just staring at my pathetic, hunched form. He was wearing the one-piece suit and waders again, with gloves and the rubber hangmans hood completing his outfit. He looked so severe and so powerful - I smiled weakly at his beautiful, perfect, masterful figure.
“How are you, slave?” he asked after a long silence.
“Aching, master.” I replied.
He just smiled with an obvious satisfaction.
Then he unlocked the cage and lifted me into a standing position and helped me to walk slowly towards the restraints that hung from the ceiling. This time he didn’t reach for the wrist restraints but let down some wider ankle restraints on another set of chains.
“Lie down on your back, slave.” he said, and I clumsily made my way down onto the floor, still in my suit and straightjacket.
“Put your feet up in the air…” he said sternly.
I did so, and he secured my ankles in the restraints. Then he went over to the wall and used a pulley to raise them further and further up until I was basically resting my shoulders and upper back on the floor, my legs strained and dangling from up near his chest. He walked over to the table and fetched the riding crop. He stood virtually over my face, looking into my terrified eyes as he tapped the crop against the open palm of his glove.
“I never want to hear you tell me you’re aching, slave…” he said angrily and lashed the crop across my bollocks. I screamed out loud with the intensity of the pain and my straightjacketed torso swung wildy with the shock.
“I want only to hear you worshipping me! Understand?” he said as he whipped my scrotum again. I screamed once more.
“I said do you understand, slave?” he shouted and swung the crop right across my cock.
“Yes master!” I managed to cry back before screaming with the stinging of the blow through the drenched suit on my tender flesh.
He walked around behind me and flogged my arse with all his might. My muscles clenched on the vibrator and I lurched pathetically around on my shoulders, trying to avoid the worst of the beating. He wouldn’t let me avoid it though, and just kept beating me and beating me till he could hear how hard I was crying and that my body was so exhausted it just hung limp and shook with each new blow.
He stopped and walked around to stand over my face again, pointing the crop down and rubbing my face with it.
“Are you sorry, slave?”
“Yes master, I’m sorry. I love you.” I replied, sobbing.
“Thank me for punishing you then…”
“Thank you master.” I said quietly and reverently.
“Good slave…” he said, beginning to smile again, “I punish you to teach you a lesson and you must thank me for teaching you, mustn’t you slave?”
“Yes master. Thank you.”
“Now lick my waders, slave…”
Although it was difficult to move myself in the straightjacket, I managed to lean my head over and set my tongue to work on the heavy, industrial rubber of my master’s waders. My dangling body - a shiny, black mass of straps and padlocks twiched and swung as I tried to keep my face leant into his boots.
After a while he knelt down over me and just felt me through the straightjacket, feeling how tight it was on me, rattling all the padlocks, getting turned-on at how trussed up I was and slowly moving his gloved hand up to massage my sore cock. I whimpered and shivered at the mixture of pain and relief he gave me and wanted to shout out how much I loved him - but I knew I must keep silent unless he told me to speak.
Then, still knelt over me, Alan undid the zip of his suit so that just his crack was showing and, without a word, lowered himself down onto my face.
I rimmed him deep and hard, showing how good a slave I could be - hardly able to draw breath most of the time, gasping frantically at the hot, sweaty air trapped inside his suit. My tongue flicked around inside his crack while he used his mouth to suck on - and play with - my genitals even though they were imprisoned in my skintight rubbers.
I heard him moaning as I kept on rimming him, and I kept letting out small whimpers as he gently bit on my nads through the suit.
Then he moved himself off me and walked off to the chains and pulley at the wall. As he pulled on the chains my body was slowly lifted clear of the floor altogether, and he kept working at the pulley for a while, zipped his backside up again whilst unzipping his cock and then walked back over to me.
I dangled upside-down, completely helpless in the straightjacket with his wet, hard cock dribbling a long strand of pre-cum right in front of my mouth. His rubber gloves stroked my hair for a moment and then grabbed my head tightly and plunged it down onto his shaft.
He pumped my head back and forth onto its length as I gagged and spluttered. His motions became quicker and I heard him sighing and groaning as he came closer and closer to orgasm.
He stopped suddenly as he groaned really loudly, keeping my head pressed absolutely into his suit - the whole length of his cock filling my mouth. Then it just exploded into my throat with a huge wash of hot cum. I almost choked on it and tried to struggle my way free, but he just held me there and a few seconds later another burst arrived. A third followed soon after with a final, exhausted jolt and he slowly relaxed his grip.
As I swallowed all that was left, he pulled up a chair in front of me and found a cigarette on the table by the wall. He lit it and sat down, smoking it as he calmed down - staring at the sight of me hanging upside-down in front of him in a suit and straightjacket, licking the remains of his gism from my lips.
He smiled as he smoked and we gazed at each other in complete silence: him, probably enjoying his handiwork at total restraint - and me, worshipping him for every way he could use me as his rubber slave.
He put down the cigarette in an ashtray for a moment and slowly lowered my ankles to a position where he could safely undo the restraints. He pulled me up by the heavy, steel D-ring on the front of the straighjacket’s collar and dragged me over to the chair. He made me kneel between his legs and lick his sagging, juicy cock while he continued smoking, and with his free hand he ruffled and stroked my messy, wet hair.
After a while he moved me back onto the floor so that I lay on my back in front of the chair. It was a bit uncomfortable because of the tight strapping and buckles and padlocks down the back of the straightjacket but it still felt like a resting position. Alan zipped up his suit again and sat back down, prizing my legs apart with his waders. He lit another cigarette and sat there in complete silence watching me, grinding my crotch around with both his boots. I moaned and whimpered, looking up at him occasionally to see his satisfied grin beaming from beneath the hangman’s hood.
“You’ve had that suit on since last night, haven’t you slave?”
“Yes master.”
“Are you hot in it?”
“Yes master.”
“And messy?”
“Yes master.”
“Good. I want you to get used to feeling like that.”
He continued massaging my knob and balls with his waders for a while and then lifted up the radio-control device for the vibrator that was still strapped to me.
“I think it’s about time you messed up your suit a bit more…” he said, and pressed the button down as his waders played harder and harder with my tackle.
I grunted and groaned as my arse tighted and twitched on the vibrator. I couldn’t hold it any longer: my eyes shut, my whole body arched up from the floor and hot, painful gism shot up my belly.
After I had stopped groaning and settled down into a limp, rubber body on the dungeon floor again my master stood up and turned me over. As he slowly undid all the padlocks and straps he spoke to me.
“You can go to bed in your little box now. You’ll stay in the suit till tomorrow. And you can have a lie-in tomorrow morning ’cause I’ve got some workmen in: something I organised while I was out today. But I’ll come and get you up after they’ve gone and we’ll continue your training.”
It was only once the straightjacket was pulled off me that I noticed I was still stuck in the fist-mitts. Alan slowly and delicately unstrapped and removed the vibrator and zipped the arse of my suit back up.
“Bet your arse is sore, isn’t it slave?” he asked.
“Yes master.”
“Good. I’m going to train it to take me anytime, so it’ll probably be sore a lot more times over the coming weeks. Now, let’s put you to bed…”
He made me crawl on the floor behind him as he walked over to the wooden box and opened it up. I stepped into it and laid my head on the rubber pillow.
“Sweet dreams, my slave.” he said and closed the lid, leaving me in darkness.
“I love you…” I heard him say as he snapped shut the heavy padlocks on the lid of the box. Even after all that exertion and coming-off, I was hard again. I was also drenched in sweat and cum inside my suit and my hair reeked of my master’s piss.
It was going to be another long night.
Part 4
I found it difficult to sleep that night. Not surprising given the heat inside the box and the mess of juices that seeped around me in my suit. All the places where Alan had thrashed me so hard - my cock and balls, my buttocks, my back and my tits - were hot and sore, and the inside of my arse ached after having had the vibrator up it for so long. Even my arms still ached from the time they’d spent so tightly strapped up in the straightjacket. All I could smell in the confines of this tiny, secure cell was rubber, sweat and piss.
I was exhausted though, and after a few hours desperately trying to get comfortable - shifting around in a mess of gism - I finally fell asleep.
I was woken (I don’t know how much later on) by the sounds of metal clanking, voices which I couldn’t make out, and much banging and drilling. I stayed perfectly still and silent - partly for wanting to hear what was going on and partly because I felt I’d be so embarassed if anybody knew I was shut away in the padlocked trunk in the corner.
After some time the noises stopped and I heard the sets of footsteps disappearing. All went quiet again.
But now my cock was really hard: whatever they were doing had something to do with Alan’s complete transformation of me - it must be something to do with torturing me, degrading me, humiliating me and reducing me to the anonymous, rubber nobody he wanted to serve him.
I waited again, wide awake, excited and frightened, for ages and ages.
Eventually I heard the sound of my master’s rubber riding boots coming down the steps and over to the box that I lay in. He undid the padlocks and lifted up the heavy wooden lid.
“Sit up, slave.” he said.
I sat up as he crouched in front of me in his shiny rubber biker jacket and jeans, but I was unable to see whatever had been assembled earlier and was hidden behind him. He handed me a big plastic bottle full of water.
“Drink all of that water, slave…” he said sternly.
I fumbled with the bottle in my slippery fist-mitts and swigged it all back over a period of minutes while he looked at me, smiled and stroked my hair occasionally.
“It’s time for a real endurance test, slave…” he said to me, “so you can prove just how much you want this life - so you can prove to me that you’ve got what it takes to actually live it for real.”
The words frightened me: this sounded even more serious than all the hurt and degradation he’d put me through so far. Even so, my cock reared up at the thought of being so completely in his power and being pushed to the limits by him.
“Stand up and follow me.” he said and walked away from me. I got out of the box and crawled behind him to a long metal table that had been fixed to the floor. He turned and saw me at his boots.
“Good slave… you’re learning to behave like my rubberman should.”
He roughly grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. As he unstrapped and pulled off my fist-mitts I looked at the table. It had a rubber pillow attatched to it and was clearly designed to lay down on, about fifteen sets of straps coming out of it to secure legs, arms, torso and neck onto its shiny metallic surface.
Alan walked off behind me with the fist-mitts and returned with a heavy-duty rubber dry-suit. It had feet and gloves and a hood with a gas-mask in it. There was only a dry-zip across the back of the shoulders to enter it through.
“Get into this, slave.” he said, handing the suit to me. I desperately wanted him to let me out of the hot, messy tight suit I’d been in for well over a day now, but I knew that if I so much as sounded like I was complaining I’d get a thrashing twice as hard as the one he’d given me yesterday as a ‘lesson’.
The rubber was thick and heavy and I struggled into it feet first, then my body, then feeding my arms down into the gloves and finally - with a lot of effort and perspiration - forcing my head up into the claustrophobic hood. A small tube protruded in from the front of the gas-mask and settled in my mouth. Alan began to pull the dry-zip shut across my back, making the hot, heavy suit tighten a bit on me and soon I was completely isolated in the suit listening to the deep, strange rasping sounds that my breath made as it was sucked in and blown out of the respirator.
He got me to sit on the table and then laid me out and fastened the straps all over me - ankles, lower and upper thigh, belly, upper chest, neck, wrists and elbows - until I was completely immobile on my back with my head resting on the pillow. My breathing became faster and more shallow as I realised how utterly helpless I now was: he could do anything to me - he could even walk off and leave me to die in this gear if he wanted… I had to just completely surrender to him and trust him, knowing that he loved me.
Alan, I thought to myself as I looked at him standing over me, I love you - I love you - I love you.
He fixed one end of a piece of tubing into a socket on the outside of the gas-mask and screwed the other end onto a large, transparent plastic drinking bottle full of pale yellow piss and held it in front of me.
“Over the next few days you’re going to lay there being fed nothing but my piss… I’ll come down and top up the bottle for you quite often. But you’re going to stay there, sealed up in all that lovely rubber, fixed to the bed until I’m happy that every inch of your insides - from your throat to your cock - is filled to bursting with my piss, and that your dry-suit is completely filled with your piss - made from mine. Think of it as a kind of transfusion, slave: me making sure that you contain nothing but my juices to help make you my rubberman. Does that turn you on slave?”
“Yes master.” I said in a muffled voice through the gas-mask.
He smiled and fastened the bottle up into a holder that hung nearby from one of the chains that held the sling. The piss slowly ran down the tube towards my hood.
“When you want to drink, you just suck on the tube inside your mask. Try it…”
I sucked on the tube and urine filled my mouth. It was bitter and cold - I still didn’t like the taste - but I was going to have to drink a lot of it before my master would release me from this rubber bondage.
“I’ll be back in a few hours with another bottle.” he said, and he leant over and kissed my gas-mask before walking off up the steps and locking the cellar door behind him.
I just lay there for hour after hour, occasionally shifting as far as the tight restraints would let me and looked up through the slightly misted eyes of my gas-mask at the bottle of piss that hung by me and the tube that let it into my hood. I drank - sometimes sipping, sometimes in long gulps - trying not to taste the bitter liquid too much. Then I drank more, trying hard to like the taste because it was my master’s and because I might as well at least get used to it given that he wanted to keep me suited up and filled with it for days.
I was certainly thirsty - the close, wet heat inside the heavy suit and the hot, sticky mess inside my tight suit making me uncomfortably hot. Soon the bottle-full of water that Alan had fed to me before suiting me up was ready to come out of me. My body twitched and squirmed in all the strapping and I grunted into the steamy gas-mask as my cock let it go and a vast, warm gushing filled my suit. It raced up my front and spilled down my sides and off down my legs, and soon I could feel some of it in the outer suit - clammy streams of it having seeped through the zip and begun to settle in the back of the dry-suit.
There was still about a quarter of pint of the urine left in the bottle when Alan returned with another bottle-full. I looked up at him lovingly but he just stared at me coldly, grabbed my mask and pointed me towards the remains in the bottle hanging from the sling chains. He said nothing but I knew what I had to do. I gulped on the tube and swallowed the stuff down in mouthful after mouthful of tepid bitterness. Only when I had drunk it all did he let go of my head and I let it rest back on the pillow again. He simply took off the old bottle, screwed the new one onto the end of the tube, hung it up and left me again without even a word.
I needed to urinate again and, with my limbs writhing in the straps, let my bladder go. More warm liquid flushed through my suit, all over me - sticking to me, filling the gas-mask with its rancid smell - and more still flowed out into the dry-suit. There was now a squelching sound whenever I made the slightest movement (which was all the movement I could make anyway, I was so tightly strapped down) and with the hot, wet, stinking air filling the tiny space inside my hood I began to cry.
What had I done? Could I really stand being sealed up inside this hot, filthy mess for days - unable even to move? What had I done to let him do this to me? I felt so degraded - and so perverted for having wanted this. I cried and cried, wanting for it all to be over.
I hadn’t noticed him come back into the dungeon but suddenly there he stood over my pathetic, piss-soaked body - his biker jacket and the rubber t-shirt beneath it gleamed and he just stood still, staring deep into my tear-filled eyes. I couldn’t help wondering what I looked like to him then? This rubber-clad body, strapped down on his torture table, snivelling and crying inside the thick industrial rubber of the hood with just my crying eyes visible inside the eye-pieces of the gas-mask - now dripping with the condensation of breath, sweat and piss.
And then he did something that for some reason made me love him like a god: he didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to comfort me or calm me, but just held my head again and pointed to the half-pint or so of his golden urine that still hung in the bottle above me.
He knew exactly what was going through my mind and was telling me that there was no going back - that I was already controlled by him and that I must simply carry on being transformed by him.
Through my blubbering I gulped and gulped at the piss, thinking ‘I love you - I love you’ as it went down my throat. As I sucked noisily on the tube to get the last of it, he pushed my head back onto the pillow and changed the bottles once more. Again he left without a word.
I felt elated by what he’d done - happy that tears meant nothing to him and that he was going to finish what I’d started, going to make me learn to take any amount of pain, discomfort or degradation to please him. As I began to understand that I no longer controlled my own body, no longer satisfied my own will but only his, I cried again. But tears of joy this time: I was his - and I would be his rubberman. There was no going back.
So I began to drink greedily at the piss, willing myself to love it in my mouth and in my throat. I deliberately made myself urinate again into the suit, almost laughing with pleasure as it streamed over me.
I wanted to drink more of his urine so that, like Alan had said, it would be like a transfusion and I would be filled with his piss from my throat to my cock. I would be a vessel for his waste and I would love it.
The hours did indeed turn into days and - as my master had said - I was kept strapped down on the table and had my slave body emptied of everything that was mine and had it replaced with my master’s piss. I could taste it permanently in my mouth. I could breathe it in the gas-mask. I could see it in the bottle that hung over me and I could feel it filling my bladder and my insides - as well as the growing pool of it inside the dry-suit that constantly swilled around me.
I could seem to feel it everywhere inside the suit - all down the legs, pressing on my sides, down the back of my arms, underneath me… everywhere.
I ached from the straps all over me, I’d never been so completely degraded in my life, and with every breath I could smell and taste the mess that swam all over me. I was so tired (it must have been over three days now that I’d endured this torture) and yet I was ecstatic.
Nobody else in the world could possibly know what it felt like to have the man you love put you through this. I laughed to myself, deleriously happy at the transformation Alan was working on me. I didn’t even want to cum off - I was just so happy to be here, being treated like this by my master and lover.
There was certainly no way I could sleep in all that mess and discomfort so I felt absolutely exhausted and part of me wanted to be let out - if only to get some sleep. Another part of me, though, wanted nothing more than to stay in this gear forever, feeding from my master.
I finished the last of the piss in the bottle and waited for Alan to return with another. When he did finally appear by the torture table though, he was not alone.
He wore his biker jacket and t-shirt - but with a rubber hangmans hood this time, and next to him stood someone completely encased in rubber. He wore a suit and tight gloves that went above his elbows and his head was covered by a tight hood with a collar, a zip mouth that was open, and pin-prick eyes so that he was totally anonymous.
Alan had attatched a leash to the other man’s collar and had the other end of it wrapped round his knuckles and his wrist.
“How long have you kept him like that?” asked the man on the leash.
“Very nearly four days now.”
“With only water?” asked the other man, nodding at the bottle.
“With only my piss.” replied Alan.
I could almost see the other man shudder.
“Wow… fuckin’ horny.” he said.
Alan smiled and nodded, looking into my eyes.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked the man on the leash.
“There are a few options…” said my master, “Firstly we can give him another bottle or two of piss and keep the torture going a while longer… Secondly we can unstrap him but not let him out of the suit till he’s cleaned a load of rubbers and sex-gear for us… Thirdly we can unstrap him, undo his hood, piss on him and make him blow the both of us off while we think of something to do afterwards… or fourthly you can take him to the shower, get him out of all his gear, clean him up and dress him in something you like - and then we can play with him…”
My cock was suddenly hard as fuck and shifted around inside the sodden mess of my suit. My breathing became quick and shallow in anticipation. Both of them looked at me through the dripping eye-pieces in the gas-mask as they heard my breath rattling and rasping through the respirator.
“Well…” Alan asked him, “which do you want to do?”
Part 5
“I think we should have him blow us off before he gets out of all that gear.” said the hooded man on the end of Alan’s leash.
My heart was pumping really fast as I waited for them to unstrap me.
“Okay…” said Alan and directed the rubber guy to come round the other side of me. One by one the straps were unbuckled and my body loosened up slightly, the tepid urine swilling around inside my dry-suit.
Alan unfixed the tube from my gas-mask, pushed me up into a sitting position and pulled my legs off the side of the table and all the piss poured down into the legs of the suit with a muffled splashing noise.
He stood me up and walked my unsteady, exhausted body into an open space away from the table.
“Kneel down, slave…” he said. I did and again the piss sloshed around in the hot, heavy rubbers. Alan unzipped his jeans and pulled out his semi-hard cock. He motioned for the rubber guy to undo the brass zip across my shoulders. As the stiff zip opened, I could feel cool air at last.
“Take the hood off, slave.”
I struggled to pull the tight, thick rubber over my soaking head, and eventually was knelt there with my pathetic, dishevilled head and neck poking out of the opening on the back of the dry-suit.
“You really reek of piss, slave…” he said, “but you’ve done well.”
He shook his cock and strained slightly, letting out a shower of his urine over me. It streamed through my hair, splashed over my face - I swallowed as much as I could to prove I could take more if he wanted - and it splattered and ran all over the suit and onto the floor.
I stayed there, knelt in the puddle as he shook his cock to spurt a couple of final jets into my face.
“Play with my tits…” he said to the rubber guy, who immediately pulled open Alan’s biker jacket and started rubbing and tweaking my master’s beautiful bare nipples with his shiny, gloved hands.
Alan groaned his approval as he started to wank himself off, his cock hardening inches away from my face. His flesh looked beautiful against the shiny black jeans and as he wanked harder and faster he commanded the man in the hood to play harder with his tits.
My master was recogniseable from his eyes, sparkling inside the hangman’s hood and his cheekbones, mouth and chin but the other man was so completely faceless - and I was dying to know what he looked like under his second, sweaty rubber skin. I’d noticed he wore waders, which I’d not been able to see when I was strapped to the table.
“Get on my cock, slave…” he said frantically and I opened wide and gulped his swollen shaft down into the back of my mouth.
As he kept wanking he suddenly grunted a massive “Aagh!” and filled my mouth with spunk. It tasted hot and almost sweet and I sucked desperately again and again to get every last drop out of him.
He pulled his cock from my mouth,played with it for a while as he smiled at me and then slowly zipped it back into his jeans.
“Good slave. Now you can suck him off. Just wait a moment though…”
He went over to some hooks on the wall that had masses of restraints and chains and toys hanging off them and returned with a pair of handcuffs, fixing the rubber guy’s hands behind his back. As I moved my face towards the crotch of his suit, Alan unzipped it for me and a long, hard cock - encased in a rubber sheath that also covered his balls - swung out in front of me.
Alan was stood behind him and zipped up the mouth of the man’s hood. Then he reached around his chest and began fondling the man’s tits through his suit. The guy began moaning and his head leant back as he struggled slightly in Alan’s grip.
“Okay, slave, suck him off.”
I closed my mouth around the rubber member and sucked and played with it as he struggled and shook, making muffled groans through his hood. Still sucking hard, I managed to raise my eyes up enough to catch a glimpse of Alan’s partly masked face by the man’s shoulder. He was gritting his teeth and viciously ripping at the suit around the guy’s tits. The groaning was getting louder and becoming almost like vocal spasms that accompanied the shuddering of his black, shiny body.
The sheath moved easily in my mouth, smooth and soaked with my saliva that just kept on filling my mouth at the sexy taste of the rubber.
Then the groans begame a long series of loud agonised grunts about a second apart and his cock finally jolted several times while he made a long, high-pitched moan. The feeling of the sheath suddenly went strangely sloppy around his hard cock and I knew there was a mass of cum washing around inside it. Gradually as I continued to play with it in my mouth - tasting only the rubber (it was strange not to have a mouthful of gism at a time like this) his cock began to soften.
After a few moments I pulled my head away from it and looked up.
Alan still played with the guy’s tits, but softly now and slowly, sometimes just gently rubbing his hands across them. The man’s head hung down and the anonymous hood let out slow breathing sounds.
With my hand still stuck in the glove of the dry-suit I wiped my sweaty, piss-soaked face.
Alan let go of the hooded guy’s tits and put his sheathed cock back into his suit for him and left him stood there with his hands cuffed-up behind his back.
“Good slave…” he said, smiling down at me, “You didn’t think I’d pollute my rubberman’s body with someone else’s spunk, did you?”
No, he wanted me full of his spunk, his piss, his sweat - not anybody else’s.
“Now go and have a really long shower, wash the rubbers out and hang them up, dry yourself off and come and sit on the bed.”
I crawled over to the large shower cubicle (in area it was probably as big as a large, square bath) and set the shower going on full power.
I stayed basically knelt down as I gradually struggled out of the two rubber suits. Floods of yellowy piss poured from the dry suit and a huge cloudy mess of piss and cum came out of the inner suit (the zip down its back took ages to undo by myself). I painstakingly washed out the suits as my master had commanded, getting constantly turned on by feeling the heavy, wet rubber in my hands, and then I doused myself in shower gel and scrubbed myself down several times: I really did stink completely of Alan’s and my piss. When I was done, I hung the suits up outside the cubicle to dry off and towelled myself down.
I couldn’t stop myself from dribbling pre-cum though: four days in total enclosure without a wank and then blowing off Alan and the rubber guy - it was hardly surprising really.
I wiped it off the end of my cock, hung up the towel and got on my knees to crawl round to the bed.
They were both laid back on the rubber sheets: the rubber guy was nearest, without his waders now and no longer handcuffed, but Alan on the far side still in his hangmans hood, jacket, jeans and boots.
“Come and lay between us, slave.” said Alan.
I got up and settled my naked body down between them. I laid on my back with my hands by my side, but turned my head over to look straight into Alan’s face. He smiled at me and moved the fingers of one of his gloved hands in and out of my mouth till my cock was almost flat back on my stomach ’cause it was so hard. He moved his hand away and turned my head to face the blank hood of the other guy.
“This is Tom, slave. I’ve borrowed him from his master to help me with your training. To you he is another master and tormentor and you will address him as ‘Tom sir’… understand?”
“Yes master.”
“Say hello to him then, slave…”
“Hello, Tom sir.” I said obediently.
The hood turned to me and nodded.
“Right…” said Alan, “after four days, I’d say you’re due for a wank before your training resumes. So play with yourself.”
I began wanking and as I did so, they both closed in on me, virtually covering my nakedness with their rubber bodies. The feeling was amazing as they slid up and down against me and I was soon in absolute ecstacy as Alan moved one gloved hand over my mouth and the other down to my crotch to make a tight grip behind my bollocks, and Tom put one arm around behind my head and used both hands to play gently with my nipples. I writhed on the rubber sheets as each of them pressed me down with their bodies and by wrapping their legs over mine and each of them nuzzled their hoods into the sides of my face, with Alan whispering, “I want to see you come off, slave.”
I let out a huge whimper when I shot my load moments later, half a dozen spurts of cum jolted out of my aching cock and up my chest. As I slumped back exhausted, Alan kissed me long and hard on the neck.
“Good slave…” he said and lay back, putting his arm around me.
“Feed it to him.” he said to Tom, who crouched over me and wiped up the gism in his gloves and put them to my mouth where I licked them clean, taking some of the fingers to the back of my throat to suck the cum off them.
Alan turned my body into his, curled me up a bit and pulled his jacket over my head. In the warm darkness of his rubbers I gently sucked and licked his nipples.
“That’s right…” he said, “you just do that and rest for a while.”
Tom moved in behind me - I could feel a hard-on encased in his suit as he lay with his front against my back and for an hour or two we all just lay there: two rubber guys and their naked, adoring slave totally cocooned in them.
“Kneel up, slave…” said Alan eventually, sitting up on the bed beside me. I did so and he pressed my face down onto his boots. I began licking them: the toes, the heel and way up the tall calf of each of them while he sat there smoking a cigarette and smiling at my utter devotion to my master’s boots. After a while he pulled his cock from the shiny, rippling crotch of his jeans and dragged Tom’s hand over to it. Tom started to slowly wank it for him and he continued to smoke, looking back and forth at each of us.
He took Tom’s hand off his cock after a few minutes and pushed him onto his back. Then he pulled my face from his riding boots and said, “Right slave, I want you to lay on top of him and set about rubbing yourself off.”
I knelt over Tom’s completely rubbered-up body, spread my legs open and settled down onto his suit. Straightaway my rigid cock began to ooze pre-cum out onto the warm rubber and as I lay on him, my face close to the zipped-up mouth and pin-prick eyes of his hood.
I started to pump my body up and down on his smooth, sleek rubbers and felt his arms come round my back, his rubber gloves tingling as they ran along my spine. Soon they were moved aside and my master’s well-lubricated cock began forcing itself up my crack as I plunged back and forth on the shiny, black figure beneath me. Soon my beautiful, fantastic master’s rubber-clad body was seemingly clamped to mine as we fucked in unison. Great moans came from inside Tom’s tight hood and his body stiffened and jotled as he came off once more into his sheath. His arms flew around my neck and pressed me into him as I shuddered, my climax coming ever-closer.
Then Alan came inside me - I felt a long, warm stream of his spunk settle in my arse. He lifted himself off me and I stopped my fucking to allow him to pull out.
“Okay, that’s enough slave…” he said, being deliberately cruel and pulled me away from Tom who lay with his rubber torso smeared in trails of my pre-cum and droplets of sweat.
“Lick that up, slave…” said Alan, pointing to the mess and I did so, Tom stroking my head while I drank it all back up.
When I finished, my master laid a rubber sleepsack out on the bed. It had sleeves inside it to restrain the arms, a hood on it which featured only a small zip-mouth and a few tiny holes in the nostrils, and a three-way zipper that ran down the back from the top of the hood to the ankles.
“You didn’t know about this but I’ve had this made-to-measure to fit my rubber slave perfectly, for total rubber confinement and chastity.” he said, making sure it was fully opened up for me to get into.
My cock and balls ached with the anticipation of orgasm and a long strand of pre-cum hung from the end of my sore member.
“Lay face down in it, slave.”
I lay in it with my feet together and my face in the hood while Alan manoeuvred my arms into the restraint sleeves by my sides. Then the zipping-up began. Tom closed one zip from my feet upwards and I could feel the perfect form-fitting slickness of the rubber as my legs were swallowed up in it. Alan meanwhile worked from the other end, zipping the rubber tightly down over my head and neck - sexy, sadistic bastard, it really was skintight all over - and before long the zips met somewhere in the small of my back.
“Pass me that padlock…” I could hear Alan saying. Shortly afterwards a metallic clicking sound told me I was completely imprisoned in the rubber.
I could see nothing and my hearing was a fair bit muffled. Sexiest and yet most frightening of all was the utter claustrophobia it induced. Its rubber clung almost unbearably tightly to my skin - all over my body - as if it were part of me somehow. My hot breath moved clumsily through the zip-mouth and the tiny nostril holes. I felt them rolling me over onto my back. It occured to me that I loved my master the most whenever he made me most helpless - here I was completely physically and mentally controlled by him and I worshipped him for it. Keep me in here forever, I thought (knowing full well how much the total enclosure frightened me at the same time), yeah - forever - and I’ll just live on your spunk.
I felt their hands moving across the sleepsack, deliberately settling on my genitals and tits, on my face and head as they tormented me for what seemed like an age. I suffered in silence in my confinement, shuddering with pleasure and breathing erratically as they moved me into ecstacy.
The mouth was unzipped - it was exactly the width of my own mouth and in exactly the right place - and my master began kissing me more and more passionately, forcing his tongue back towards my throat and filling my mouth with his saliva.
“You’ll spend the night in this sleepsack, slave. And maybe I’ll let you come off in the morning. You see you aren’t only going to learn about being fucked in rubber, or being humilated in it, degraded or tormented in it by your master… When you are my rubberman, you will spend most of your life in complete bondage. No torture, no degradation. Just bondage: being kept trussed up in whatever I desire, waiting to serve me. And that’s what this is about, so forget about your hard-on and concentrate on thinking about me all night, worshipping me for keeping you in this, and praying that I will keep you as my slave forever. Understand?”
“Yes master.”
“Do you love me?”
“More than anything, master.”
Once more he kissed me long and hard and his and Tom’s hands moved over every inch of the sleepsack.
“Goodnight slave” he said.
“Goodnight master. Goodnight Tom sir.” I replied, suddenly thinking I might be punished if I forgot Tom.
The zip was pulled shut across my mouth and all was total darkness and silence apart from the sound of my own warm breath condensing on the inside of the hood and the shimmering sound of the rubber clinging and moving on me.
For a while, I tried struggling, hoping to make myself more comfortable, but it was no use - I just got hotter, and after some time settled down, feeling strangely happy in my imprisonment. I thought about my master as he had told me to - getting a huge hard-on again as I dreamed of him keeping me in gear like this all the time, of being sealed up in rubber for his sadistic amusement and of only being released or partially released so that I could service his cock, worship him as my god and be tortured by him. I drifted off into a horny, sweaty, constricted sleep.
I was awake and thinking much the same thoughts when I heard approaching footsteps and felt the undoing of the mouth zip.
“Breakfast in bed…” said Alan as his hard-on moved into the hood and filled my mouth. I sucked on it as he plunged it deep into me and then virtually pulled it out again in long, drawn-out movements that were accompanied by faint moans of pleasure. My utterly restrained body shifted passively on his beautiful cock and I prayed for him to fill me with his gism. He did… a hot mouthful of the stuff that I swilled around his shaft while he let his hard-on die down inside my mouth.
“Good slave.” he said and did the zip back up, leaving me in my isolation again.
Hours passed and I lay sweating, virtually rigid in my rubber prison - turned on almost to the point of orgasm and totally unable to do anything about it. I daren’t try rubbing myself off against the rubber sheets in case he or Tom was watching and might punish me, so I just lay there praying for him to let me come off soon.
More hours passed and there was no release for my throbbing cock which smeared pre-cum all over my stomach and the inside of the sleepsack. I was on the point of tears, I was so frustrated. But I took control of myself. Alan had said that it was not about satisfying my cock, but about being in bondage to him. I began to think of the satisfaction he’d get, seeing me stuck in the skintight latex, knowing how long I’d been in it and getting turned on by my total helplessness and by his total onwership and control. Soon that became enough to keep me happy - that would be all I needed.
I was learning.
Footsteps approached again and once more the mouth was unzipped. This time it was the sheathed member that filled my mouth. So he wanted me to blow Tom off again? …fine. I sucked on it and played with it for all I was worth - they were both my masters and I was their slave, and I wanted nothing more than to be serving them in whatever pervy way they wanted. and this was pervy: not only was I tightly covered in slick, black rubber - it now completely filled my mouth too.
Suddenly I was being turned over onto my front… hands kept my mouth around the rubber hard-on and above the crinkling and shifting of our rubbers, I could hear the padlock on my back being undone. The zips were moved a bit until I could sense a small gap over my crack and another sheathed cock - this one well lubricated - settled deep into my arse. I just lay there, hunched and helpless as they both fucked me. Now every orifice was filled with rubber as well as my whole body being encased in it… Fucking horny rubber sex. I tried to block out the pain of Alan’s cock pumping in and out of my crack by imagining them both head to toe in rubber, fucking the rubber slave slumped between them.
It was just too much and my muscles clenched round my master’s cock as I shot my load up my stomach. It was an intense orgasm which shot through me like an electric shock, throwing my neves into some kind of spasm and making my whole body shake uncontrollably. I think both of them must have come off about the same time because when I came to my senses again they were both slowing down to a stop and rubbing me all over as the cock was pulled out of my crack. I was still whimpering when I got the biggest shock.
“How did you like having Tom fuck your arse then, slave?” asked Alan, once the cock had pulled out of my mouth.
Sly bastard. Sly, cruel, wonderful bastard.
He was playing mind games with me so that I didn’t even know who was doing what to me any more. The thought of him (of them) having that much power just turned me on even more and I was hard again in no time. They did up the zips again, padlocked the one over my arse and left me confused, claustrophobic and shuddering with excitement and pleasure as I continued to dribble pre-cum into my rubbers.
They didn’t actually go away this time though. I could hear them near me on the bed. I could hear their rubbers, their zips, their grunts and groans as they fooled around with each other. Their movements vibrated through the bed and through the rubber sheets and into my sleepsack. I couldn’t tell what they were doing, but I could tell it was fun. Occasionally I heard cuffs being snapped shut or adjusted or opened, and chains clanking and rattling. I don’t think I’ll ever know what they were doing. That was the point though: Alan wanted me to be stuck there wondering, having no choice or say in what he was doing.
More than that, I realised that he’d got me to be fucked - face and arse - by someone whose face I hadn’t even seen yet. Now that’s power.
I lay there in my tight, clinging rubber cocoon as they played roughly with each other (or rather, Alan probably played roughly with Tom) next to me on the bed. It went on for what must have been well over an hour, turning me on completely again knowing that I had to just remain completely passive, completely in slavery, locked in the rubber sleepsack till Alan decided to use me again.
After a hell of a long time of them playing together, he did.
“It’s really me this time slave…” he said unzipping my mouth, “Taste me. Taste your master’s cock.” and shoved his hard-on straight into my throat. It tasted of cum and pre-cum and of rubbery sweat. It tasted of my master. It tasted beautiful. I rolled it around with my tongue and sucked on it while he pushed my head onto it and thrust it in and out of my throat. It shot a load of hot spunk into me and I swilled it round in my mouth, worshipping my master’s cock still, with my tongue playing gently with his foreskin for ages.
“Good slave…” he said as he zipped the mouth back up, “now get some rest for an hour or so ’cause we’ve got some serious torture lined up. You’re going to be taken to the limit.” He stroked my head as he spoke and I knew it would be impossible to love anybody more than I loved him, whatever he might do to me. Who knows, maybe because of what he might do to me?
I heard him and Tom leave me and I did my best to doze off, but it was too hot and sticky inside the sleepsack. I was too turned on. Too frightened. Too excited and too in love to sleep.
Part 6
The padlock was taken off and the zips were finally undone, and the sleepsack - dripping with sweat - was prized off me.
My naked, tired body was lifted out of it by two identical figures.
Each wore a full rubber suit with tight gloves up to their elbows, and they each wore waders. Not only that but they wore identical motorcycle helmets. Black, futuristic-looking ones with a kind of grille across the front of a nozzle-like nose and mouth section. The visor of each helmet was reflecting silver.
One was my master and one, presumably, was Tom (I guess I couldn’t even really be sure of that…). they were similarly built and of similar height too. This must be Alan’s idea of a pervy torturer’s outfit: it sure as hell did the trick for me I thought, as my cock swung up against my stomach.
They said nothing. They didn’t even motion to each other. One moved the sleepsack away and the other handed me a pair of rubber shorts and a tube of KY. The shorts had a smallish butt-plug in them and a pumping tube hanging out of the back. I squeezed out some KY and pushed it into my crack. I pulled on the shorts, making sure the buttplug went up me. The figure started pumping the tube and the plug swelled inside my arse, filling my cavity, pressing up against my prostrate - causing me to close my eyes and groan. Satisfied that it was firmly in place the figure took me over to the sling and laid me back in it. As he padlocked my ankles into the restraints that hung from the chains, the other identical figure padlocked my arms into wrist restraints that hung from the chains above my head. My stomach was strapped in too and I was soon immobile. Then while one of my torturers looked on, the other fixed a thick rubber head harness onto me. It had stud fastenings around the eyes and mouth for various blindfolds, gags and so forth but for now they left the mouth and eyes open.
I gazed out at them as they stood by me, gently rubbing my bare skin with their gloves. God they looked sinister. Beautifully sinister. So mean and - for some reason, probably to do with looking anonymous and powerful in their headgear - so pervy and sexy, like they were intent on just experimenting on me, seeping gism into their suits while they did what they wanted to me, and while I couldn’t even be allowed to see their pleasure.
A massive hard-on pressed against the inside of my shorts because of how much they turned me on in their gear, but at the same time I was incredibly frightened by the thought of what pain they might put me thorugh. I wondered what it would be like to be inside one of those helmets, in its hot, confining space, with it pressing in all over the head. They would watch my suffering from inside their imposing, frightening visors - and I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other.
One of them pressed my backside and I shifted slightly, groaning as the butt-plug pushed deep into me. Then he unzipped the front of the shorts and gently pulled out my erection, while the other one pressed a mouthpiece into the stud fastenings on my head harness. The mouthpiece had an inflatable gag on the inside of it and I started to breathe slowly and deeply through my nose - trying to calm myself from the prospect of their torture - as he pumped up the gag to fill my mouth.
When they were both done they just stood and looked at me, bound up, silenced - filled - and ready to play with.
My heart was full with equal amounts of love and fear as I waited - forever it seemed - for them to begin. Making me suffer the dread of anticipation was clearly part of their plans.
Eventually the one nearest my cock snapped both ends of a set of handcuffs round the back of my cock and balls, tightening it as far as it would go. Then he started to tie thin leather cords all around the top of my scrotum, forcing my aching balls furhter and further down into a shiny, taut balloon of stretched skin. The other guy was busy working on my tits with his rubber gloves, rubbing them, gently pulling them and pinching them and twisting them. That felt quite pleasurable, but the work down below was beginning to hurt as my balls felt hot and sore and my engorged cock throbbed in front of the cold steel and the tight, unforgiving grip of the handcuffs. Then he started to tie more cords around just in front of the cuffs, intensifying the pain, the constriction, and the heat. That pain was overtaken by the sudden application of a pair of viciously tight tit-clamps. They were held together on a chain which lay on my chest, its cold metal contrasting with the heat of the sudden soreness in my nipples. I began to gasp erratic sighs of pain into the gag, where they were muffled so that my masters could carry on their work uninterrupted.
As the guy that was working on my tits slowly raised and lowered the chain, pulling my tender nipples away from me in washes of agony, the man at my crotch was beginning to tie cord up round half of the length of my rigid, red cock. I didn’t know where the pain was worse.
For a while they stopped and just watched me again as I moaned and pathetically struggled in my restraints, each move hurting through the devices they’d applied to my body. Then they both touched and rubbed me ever so gently with their soft, sleek, gloved hands in all the places where I wasn’t being tortured: my stomach, my sides, my legs and my arms and shoulders. There was a bizarre mix of the beautiful, gentle pleasure of the touching and the constant, numbing heat of the pain from the genital and tit torture.
After a while, they set to again and I tried to prepare myself for whatever they might do next.
Somewhere down by their boots they must have had a bucket of ice, as they both picked up large ice cubes and rubbed their cold, wet edges onto my tits and my cock and balls. It was almost too much and I screamed uselessly into the gag and began crying at the relentless agony that seared through my body like lightning. The man at my tits kept lifting and stretching the chain as he rubbed the ice onto my red, raw nipples. I struggled and squirmed as I cried, but they paid no heed to me as they continued to play with the unbelievably sore objects of their torture, running ice up and down my shaft, round the end of my cock and on the painful, stretched skin of my scrotum as well as around and onto my tits.
And yet I was so utterly turned on by the severe, rubber-clad figures that experimented on my helpless body: their skintight, shiny rubber suits, the soft touch of their gloves and the frighteningly sexy helmets with their metallic visors, looking down at me, working on me, taking me to the absolute threshold of what I could stand. Even though I could see that they both had massive erections swollen inside their suits, they seemed to move about and torture me as if they weren’t even slightly turned on - as if they were just doing this for he sole purpose of experimenting with my body. But their huge hard-ons said otherwise: they were loving every second of it.
I sighed and moaned pathetically into the stifling bulk of the inflated gag as I cried tears of agony and helplessness.
Then they each picked up a cat-and-nine-tails and began brushing my skin with them, the man at my cock pulling it across my knotted, stretched genitals and the guy at my tits dragging it across my entire chest and through the chain and clamps and the red, swollen nipples.
I shuddered with horror, more or less guessing what was coming next.
And I was right… Soon the strokes began, soft at first, but even then causing me to jolt in my restraints and grunt into the gag. They beat me everywhere: on my feet, legs, sides, shoulders and belly as well as my trussed-up nads, my aching cock and my clamped nipples. The blows became harder and faster - almost white hot with the intensity of the painful shocks they delivered, and I was soon screaming almost non-stop into the gag as pain was delivered onto pain and my suffering grew by the second. The two suited, helmeted figures stood there - faceless and emotionless as they flogged me through the pain barrier - and my body jolted and swung wildly in the sling as I screamed and cried into the gag that jammed my mouth.
It seemed like it might never end as I cried uselessly and my body was hurled around in the straps and restraints as the phenomenal beatings threw me to the left and right and sent my muscles bolting up into the stomach restraint. On and on it went, their beautiful rubbered figures whipping me into oblivion as I screamed and squirmed and flopped around in great spasms of agony from each new blow.
Eventually they stopped and for a while there was silence as they stood there, looking at me from inside their visors, beads of sweat falling from out of the bottom of their helmets onto the neck and shoulders of their suits. I continued to cry and shifted in the sling - as if I might somehow find some position which didn’t hurt so much. It was useless and they just stood there and let me cry for a while.
Then they reached down and picked up more ice and dipped their gloved hands in the freezing water.
My body went rigid as the hands touched me and began to apply ice and water to the red stripes that covered my body. I just whimpered - aware that I was somehow still fully erect - and shuddered as the wet, icy gloves moved softly over my flesh which felt like it was on fire.
I cried tears of love for my master - for stopping the beating, for being so tender - I worshipped him more than ever.
As I lay there, my arms and legs aching from the restraints and the rest of my body melting with the furious heat of my agony, I watched as the two torturers began playing with each other’s nipples. They became more and more frantic till they let go and grabbed each others backs and arses and rubbed themsleves off against each other, leaning their helmeted heads over each other’s shoulders as they hugged and pumped each other’s torsos.
It looked so beautiful - my two identical rubber torturers - locked in this hot, sweaty embrace. I wanted to be Tom and to have Alan doing that to me. I actually felt jealous. Even so my cock throbbed and moved about, hard and excited by what it saw.
They carried on for a while but didn’t seem to reach orgasm. When they finally stopped, they both walked off up the dungeon stairs and disappeared, turning the light off as they shut the door behind them.
I was left strapped up in the darkness for some time, the torture devices still attatched to my genitals and nipples.The pain became a numbing pain that was bearable so long as I stayed perfectly still. The butt-plug ached, still fully inflated inside my arse and the gag strained my jaws as I lay there.
When Alan returned, he switched on the lights again and walked down the steps, still in his suit and waders, but carrying both the helmets with him. He put them down on a table at the side of the dungeon and came over to me.
“Good slave…” he said, gently stroking my hair, “Good slave.”
I gazed up at him in total adoration, the pain almost disappearing as I did so.
“I’ll let you out of these devices once you’ve wanked yourself off for me.” he said as he released my arms from the padlocked restraints.
With my legs and stomach still strapped into the sling and the gag, butt-plug, nipple clamps and cords still in place, I began to play with myself. My cock was so tender and raw and my balls so tight and aching, but I worked harder and harder on my erection, gasping into the gag with a mixture of pain and pleasure I never knew existed. With a final agonising jolt, my cum sprayed up my chest and spurted out again and again as I screamed into the gag. I let go of my painful shaft and my arms fell limp by my sides. After a minute or two, Alan turned a knob on the pumping ball for the gag and it deflated. Then he pulled off the mouthpiece altogether and kissed me softly and lovingly through the head harness as he stroked my sore, striped shoulders and chest. I shuddered and whimpered as I kissed him back and let his tongue deep into my mouth. He pulled away and picked up my gism in his gloves and fed it to me, smiling as I gratefully gulped it down off his fingers.
“Right…” he said after a while, “let’s get the rest of this gear off you. Now be brave about it and I’ll reward you. Okay?”
I nodded and he slowly began to release the tit-clamps. I held my breath and gritted my teeth as they came off my skin with an electrifying stab of pain.
“Good slave…” he said and moved down to my crotch.
My lower body filled with washes of agony as he slowly undid the tight cords that encased my cock and balls and unlocked the handcuffs that squeezed my tackle out of my body. I lay still and silent, thinking only of how much I loved him to block out the hurting.
Finally he deflated the butt-plug.
“Good slave…” he said to me, smiling as he returned to stand near my face, “now how do you want me to reward you?”
I thought for a while, hoping it wasn’t some kind of trick question.
“I’d like you to put your helmet back on, dress me just like you, and for us to make love the way you and Tom were playing with each other just before he went. Please master, that’s all…”
“I think that’d be fun with you, slave…” he replied, “ but first you rest for a while. That was quite a session. Now take the shorts off and we’ll lie down for a while.”
I bent down a bit and struggled out of the shorts. When I looked up again, Alan had put his helmet back on. He came over to me and unfastened the head harness. I was now completely naked and he was completely rubbered up, his eyes hidden somewhere in the gleaming chrome of the visor. He held out his hand, and I fell to the floor and smothered it in kisses of devotion and worship. He walked off to the bed and lay down on the soft rubber sheet. I crawled on the floor behind him and got up onto the bed to lay on my back next to his warm, rubber-clad body. Silently he handed me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit a ciggy and began to smoke, the slightly dizzying effect of it after such a heavy session relaxing me and soothing my pain.
As I smoked, Alan just lay there looking so powerful and sexy in his gear with me naked and vulnerable at his side. He nuzzled up to me, leaning his helmet right up against my face and ran the ends of his rubber fingers delicately over my skin. I shivered with pleasure as they tingled all over my body and looked at the blank chrome of his visor with absolute love. I even kissed the helmet - and kissed his gloves when they came near my face. When I’d finished the cigarette, he gathered me up against his gorgeous shiny body and hugged me. We just lay there for ages.
Eventually he got up and fetched a suit, some gloves and a tight rubber hood which he put on the bed beside me. I pulled on the suit (a one-piece with all-around zip) and the hood - it had eye and mouth holes - and then put on the gloves. While I was doing that, he brought over a pair of waders and I dutifully pulled them onto me as well, getting more turned on as I began to look more and more like my master. Then he brought over the spare helmet and as I sat obediently on the edge of the bed he placed it on my head and pulled it firmly into place, securing a strap tightly under my chin. It fitted very tightly and squeezed the hot rubber hood against my face and hair. My breath was warm and excited inside it and I noticed how heavy it was to wear compared to the hoods and masks I’d been used to.
Alan took my hands and lifted me off the bed and for a while we just looked each other up and down. Then we began to gently twist and pull on each other’s nipples - mine still incredibly sore after the torture in the sling. As we played, we just looked at each other - perfect rubber bodies full of sex - and our hard-ons grew in our suits. Then we began to grope each other all over and we closed the gap between us. I felt his hot suit against mine and we rubbed and hugged, our breaths getting shorter and more excited, and still without a single word. His cock rubbed mine again and again, and pre-cum began to seep into my rubbers. I sweated with the turn-on of our helmets leaning against each other as our embrace intensified. We played with each other’s arses as we caressed.
After a long time of doing this, Alan took me and pushed me back onto the bed again. He fumbled with my zips to open up a small area around my crack, and smeared some KY onto the gleaming wet shaft that he pulled from his suit. Before I knew it, he was inside me. I lay there in all my gear with my legs around his shoulders as he knelt over me and thrust his cock deep up my arse. He pumped away at me - my rubbered, helmeted master - as I lay there, playing with his tits like the slave I was.
As he got closer and closer to orgasm his thrusts went deeper and with more force and then he seemed to stop and pressed himself tightly against me and, with his helmet leaning down right in front of mine, let out a huge grunt. I felt the wave of hot gism bursting out of him and filling my arse.
He stayed there as a couple more smaller bursts followed, draining his juices into his slave’s willing body, and then he pulled out of me. He zipped his suit up again and moved the zips round on mine till he could get at my cock. Then he pulled it out and put one of my gloved fists round it as he lay down beside me. As I started to wank it off, he put an arm around the back of my neck and used both hands to play with my sore tits.
We must have looked so beautiful laid there on the bed together - shiny rubber creatures nuzzled together in our suits and helmets, one holding the other by his nipples as he wanked.
I shot my gism all up the front of the suit and fell back against the rubber pillow, absolutely exhausted. Alan wiped up my cum with some tissue, zipped my cock away and held me tightly to him as we rested, still in our full gear, wonderfully close, wonderfully warm and totally in love. I pushed my helmet in towards his chest - as if I were his pet (which I am, I suppose) and stroked him as he held me tight and rubbed the back of my suit and my buttocks. There was no sound but the breath coming out of our helmets and the occasional rustling of our suits or the creaking of our waders.
Otherwise it was silent. Silent and heavenly.
After a long time curled up in each other, Alan got up and pulled me up from the bed to stand with him. He started feeling me all over and pushed his helmet up against mine.
“Do you think this gear’s sexy then, slave?”
“Yes master.”
Sweat filled my tight rubber hood, the pressure of the equally tight, heavy helmet fixing it to my skin.
“In that case I think you ought to spend the night in it…” he said.
He walked off and came back with the strap-on vibrator and the straighjacket with all the padlocks on it. He knelt down, his waders creaking loudly in the perfect silence of the dungeon, and unzipped the arse of my suit. Then he put some KY on the vibrator, slowly pushed it deep into me and pulled the zips back around it, and then strapped it in place with its attatched crotch harness. I moaned slightly as it shifted inside me. Then he pulled up my arms and started to push my gloved hands deep into the thick rubber sleeves. He moved round behind me, zipped the straightjacket up tightly, and set to work on all the straps: the ones down the back, the ones between my legs and the ones that fastened the arms together and held them firmly in place. It took some minutes for him to do all the straps up and padlock them shut. The heat that came out of my suit welled up in the thick rubber of the straightjacket and was kept completely in as he locked its heavy collar up around the neck of my hood.
He stood in front of me for a moment, rubbing his cock through his suit and admiring his handiwork. His helmet came right up to mine again.
“You look really shaggable like that, slave…” he said, “How does it feel?”
“Amazing, master.” was all I could reply. It felt quite wonderful - a suit, gloves, hood, waders, that sexy helmet… and on top of all that a vibrator and a padlocked straighjacket. God, I felt really shaggable in it. I was hoping he was going to prove just how shaggable, but he didn’t fuck me. He just attatched a leash to a metal D-ring on the collar and walked me around the dungeon a few times, “…so you can feel the weight of all that rubber on you - and feel the vibrator moving inside you.”
After a while he put me in the cage and settled me down into a slumped heap on the floor - still with my waders on - and took off the leash. He knelt next to me, petting me by stroking the straighjacket and the helmet (and occasionally my hard cock).
“Goodnight slave.” he said suddenly.
“Goodnight master.” I replied.
He got up, locked the cage door shut and his beautiful, masterful figure in the suit, waders and helmet walked off up the dungeon steps. The door was bolted and the lights went out.
I lay there, slumped against the bars, my suit filled with sweat from the heat of the thick waders and heavy straighjacket and the layering of hood and helmet. I felt so tired - but there was no way I was going to get much sleep in this. Alan was probably showering himself off now and sleeping naked in a comfortable bed. But he was probably thinking of me.
Then suddenly I knew he was thinking of me - the vibrator buzzed into life. My whole body stiffened and tingled as I let a high-pitched moan into the stifling confines of the helmet. I shook, hot and sweaty, in my tight layers of rubber, and thick spurts of cum shot into my suit.
Part 7
I don’t think for one minute that my master meant me to get any sleep that night. He’d simply ordered me to “spend the night” in all that rubber gear - it was far too hot and uncomfortable to sleep in.
The helmet seemed to get heavier the longer it was on me and it pressed in relentlessly on the hood, squeezing sweat all over my face. The heat of it and my breath kept me wide awake and exhausted for hours on end. The thick, tight staightjacket and the waders soon had my suit swimming in sweat, cum and pre-cum and through the night it dribbled and streamed all over me. After quite a few hours the vibrator came on again (presumably Alan switched it on when he woke up) and once more my body writhed in tightly constrained, sweaty rubber ecstasy and another painful load of spunk shot into my suit. It kept vibrating long after I’d cum off and made me hard again almost straight away. Then the numb buzzing inside my arse stopped and I was left, squirming in my mess and in total darkness for another couple of hours.
Eventually the lights were switched on and I bent my head down against the stiff rubber collar of the straightjacket so that I could turn myself on by looking once again at the gear my master had kept me secured in for so long. I saw my wader-covered legs, my huge throbbing hard-on in my suit and the beautiful rubber of the straighjacket. When I looked up, my master stood at the cage door, looking in at me.
He was in his full “master’s” rubbers: biker jacket, jeans, boots, t-shirt and gloves. His face looked beautiful with all his piercings filled with studs and sleepers. Nobody in the world ever looked so beautiful and so severe - ever.
He unlocked the cage and knelt down by me, attatching a leash to the D-ring on the front of the straightjacket’s collar and walked me - I was actually stumbling pathetically on my knees behind him, clumsy and slow in the straightjacket and waders - over to a blank area of wall. He stood me up and took off the leash. Then he found some keys and unlocked the straps that ran between my legs and completed the straighjacket’s grip on my body. I soon realised he wasn’t undoing the jacket but merely accessing the strapped-on vibrator, which he delicately removed from my sore, throbbing backside. When he’d done this, he promptly re-fastened the straps and locked them shut again.
He leant me back against the wall and brought his face up next to my helmet as he roughly groped my hard-on.
“You know I said you looked really shaggable in that?”
“Yes master…” came my muffled reply.
“Well this is how shaggable…” and he spun me round and pushed my front up against the wall. He pulled open the zip of my suit around my arse and I felt his cock pressing into my muscles.
I squirmed and writhed in my tight, secure strapping and gasped and grunted into the solid dead weight of the helmet as he fucked me long and hard against the wall. His gloved hands held my shoulders firm while his gorgeous rubber-clad body - so masterful in the boots and jeans and jacket - thrust painfully in and out of me, Alan making noisy grunts every time he plunged his cock inside me.
Vast washes of tingling feelings filled my waders, shooting up and down my legs as he brought us both to orgasm at the same time - his whole body stiffening as he tightened his grip on me even more a second or two before he filled my arse with his beautiful hot spunk, and me jerking about helplessly as nerves exploded throughout my trussed-up form, my legs nearly giving way and cum spurting agonisingly into my suit as I squealed into the helmet.
We stood there exhausted - me leaning helplessly up against the wall, Alan leaning on me as he hugged me and rubbed me - slowly getting our breath back. I could feel sweat filling my suit as I stood there - shuddering occasionally as if in some kind of aftershock, Alan’s knob slowly softening inside me.
“Good slave…” he kept whispering at the side of my helmet.
“I love you master…” was all I could say.
Eventually he cleaned his cock up, put it back in his jeans and zipped the arse of my suit up. Then he dragged me down to the floor with him and pulled out some cigarettes. He smoked a couple and stroked me, sat back against the wall on the floor, with his slave curled up in silence in his lap.
After a while he moved me aside so he could get up. Then he helped me off the floor and walked me over to the bed, sitting me down on the edge of it. He unstrapped the helmet and pulled it away from the hood, and then he reached down into the collar of the straightjacket to get hold of the hood’s neck. It was a struggle but soon he’d managed to pull the hood off me and I sat there, still totally secured in the straighjacket but with my flushed face - streaming with sweat from my hair - able to breathe in the cool air at last. Alan slowly pulled the waders off me too, and manoeuvred my body onto the bed so that I was laying on my side, facing him.
“I’m going to have to keep you in the straightjacket to make sure you don’t play with yourself slave…” he said, “but you should be comfortable enough to sleep. I want you to get some rest for a few hours ‘cause we’re going out tonight.”
I nodded and lay my head on the rubber pillow as he kissed me and filled my mouth with his tongue, making me immediately hard again.
When the lights went out and the door was locked behind him, exhaustion came over me quickly and I was soon in a deep sleep that even the discomfort of all my rubbers couldn’t stop.
I felt so warm in them - I even felt really happy padlocked up in the thick, heavy straightjacket: there was something very comforting about being kept exactly where my master wanted me, even in what position he wanted me. I slept soundly in all my gism and sweat, my arms strapped tighly round my virtually immobile body, dreaming of my master.
When - some hours later - Alan returned in rubber chaps, riding boots, gloves, hangmans hood and a tit-flasher vest, he unlocked the straps on the straightjacket and gradually unbuckled them. He pulled it off me, leaving me stood before him in just a very messy suit and gloves.
“Get showered, get naked and get back here…” he said firmly.
I went to the shower cubicle and got out of the suit and gloves, cleaning myself thoroughly and drying myself off before crawling over to the sling - in which he lay, smoking a cigarette. His legs and boots dangled off the end of the sling - his cock dangling from between them - and his head rested on a leather strap that was joined to the sets of chains at the head-end.
“Stand up, slave.”
I did and he motioned for me to move closer to him. He gave me the cigarette.
“Finish it off and put it out…” he said.
I stood there naked next to his beautiful, relaxed, semi-rubbered body while I smoked and his gloves played with my tits. I stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray on a nearby table and returned to him.
“Strap me in, but don’t bother locking the straps up.”
“Yes master.” I said and began to lift his legs so I could fix them in the restraints that hung from the chains. His eyes sparkled at me from out of the hangmans hood while I did as he said. When I’d finished strapping his ankles up, I did his wrists and then finally fixed the strap across his stomach.
“Now put on the gear that I’ve laid out on the bed.”
I walked over to the bed and found a clean one-piece suit, some more gloves and a hood with pin-prick eyes and a zip mouth. I put them on and buckled the collar of the hood tightly round my neck. Then I returned to my master’s side.
“Go up the dungeon steps and open the door…” he said.
I was wildly turned on, trying to second-guess his next moves. I certainly wouldn’t have expected to be tying him up. I did as he said and when I opened the door at the top of the steps (the nearest I’d been to actually leaving the dungeon in well over a week) I found my mirror image stood in front of me. He’d brought Tom back and he was dressed in identical gear to me, stood perfectly still with his arms at his side. His arms came up and he turned me round again and we both walked back down the steps - him locking the door behind us - and over to the sling where Alan rested in his chaps, vest, boots, gloves and hood.
“Undo your mouths…” he said and we both unzipped the mouths of our hoods, “and come, one each side of me, to worship my tits with your teeth and tongues.”
We leant over him and set to work on his nipples, while he gently swayed in the sling, making pleasure-filled moaning noises and saying “Good slaves…” from time to time. This went on for quarter of an hour or so with us not even touching him apart from with our mouths. Still he sighed and groaned.
“Keep going at my tits…” he said, “and Slave, play with my balls - and Tom, wank my cock… slowly. Now get to it…”
We did, me gently fumbling with his balls, slipping them around in my gloved fingers and squeezing them gently in my fist while Tom held my master’s shaft and slowly pumped it back and forth. This went on for another quarter of an hour or so - and whenever I sneaked a look up at Alan, his face was lost in ecstasy and his arms writhed in the restraints as he squirmed with delight at our work. It must have looked nice to him as well, having two identical rubber slaves going at his body like nothing else in the world mattered - which, of course, it didn’t.
“Okay stop…” he said eventually. We did as he said and looked up at him.
“Tom, get behind my head and lean over me to play with my tits. Slave stand between my legs and play with my cock and balls.”
We took up our new positions and I stood in my anonymous rubbers between my master’s dangling legs as my hands juggled with his balls and wanked his cock, while ahead of me Tom in his identical gear, leaning over Alan’s head and rubbing, twisting and pulling on his tits.
Alan continued to writhe and squirm in the rerstraints, his shiny vest and chaps rippling on him as he did so. His mouth hung open beneath the hangmans hood and let out satisfied moans and groans as we did our best to please him.
“Lick my chaps too, slave…” he said, and I leant into the shiny rubber and licked the insides of his rubber thighs through my hood.
“Harder, both of you…” he commanded.
His cock was throbbing and twitching more in my hands as we both did as he wished.
“Rim me, slave!” he suddenly shouted and, with my hands still working on his reddened, aching tackle, I plunged my hood down beneath him and up his crack. I rimmed him good and hard with my slave’s tongue, worshipping his arse the way it deserved to be worshipped.
His body, held tight in the restraints began to swing wildly as he let out a series of short, loud grunts, followed by an almighty shudder as he came off over his rubber vest. We both continued playing with him till he ordered us to stop and stand either side of him.
“Feed him my gism…” he said, looking at Tom - who stood opposite me. Tom swept it up off Alan’s stomach with his gloves and pushed them into my mouth repeatedly until I’d eaten it all.
We stood looking at each other’s almost featureless hoods as we waited for the next order.
Surprisingly the next order wasn’t to let him out of the restraints. Instead he stayed put in them and commanded us to wank ourselves off over him.
“Whoever comes off last has to lick it all up. Now get going…”
Tom and I looked at each other’s rubber-clad bodies and at Alan laid there strapped into the sling as we pulled out our cocks and got wanking. This time he didn’t have a sheath on and I could see a mass of dark pubic hair at the back of his cock and round his scrotum. It struck me that this was the most of him I’d ever seen even though he’d already not only seen me but fucked my face and my arse. We wanked faster and faster, almost unable to wait to see the mess we’d make on Alan’s vest. I came first in a sudden - almost unexpected burst of orgasm, shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum out onto the shiny black rubber. Tom threw his head back and shot his virtually straight afterwards. Alan looked at him while he caught his breath. Then he looked at me.
“Make him drink it up then, slave…” he said.
I reached over and took Tom’s hooded skull in my hands and pushed it down onto my master’s stomach. I could hear him slurping at our cum and I moved his face around in the mess for a good long time to make sure he got to all of it. Alan was smiling at me as I did so, and even though he couldn’t see my face, I think he knew I was smiling too.
“Do your suits back up - and your mouth zips, and then unstrap me.” he said.
Once we’d released him he got up and fetched two leashes, attatching one to Tom’s collar and one to mine. He slipped the other ends of the leashes round one of his wrists and tugged downwards so that we both knelt before him. Then he walked across the dungeon - us following behind on our hands and knees - and sat down on the bed while we knelt next to it, still kept on the leashes. He smoked a cigarette and then tied the leashes round one of the black iron bedposts and lay back for a rest. We continued to kneel there obediently, still and silent by him, while he slept.
Part 8
When Alan finally woke up, he looked down at us on the floor next to the bed - our leashes still tied to the bed frame. He leant over and stroked the side of each of our hooded faces with his warm gloves.
He knew which of us was Tom and untied his leash.
“Come on…” he said, as if to a dog, and walked him away. I heard them going up the steps and the door closing behind them. I remained knelt there, facing the bed for about half an hour before my master returned alone.
He was still in his chaps, boots, vest and gloves - but he’d taken off the hangmans hood. He lay down on the bed and untied my leash from the bed frame, pulling on it till I climbed up onto the bed beside him.
“How is my slave then?” he asked as he unzipped my mouth, put his arms round me and held me close to him.
“Fine, thank you master. I love you.”
“Good. Enjoying your training?”
“Yes master - loving it. Thank you for training me.”
“Even the really sordid stuff?”
“Yes master. Have I proved how much I want this life? That I have it in me to live it for real?”
“Yes, I think so: you’ve done well. I’ve not even had to punish you much. Tomorrow I’ll draw up a new contract to replace your training contract. It’ll say what you are to wear as your slave uniform, give you new sleeping arrangements, stuff like that…”
“Thank you master.”
“We’ll go out a bit later to celebrate your becoming my rubberman. Okay?”
“Yes master. Thank you master.”
“For now though, you can lick my boots, chaps and tits and then go down on my cock.”
With that he unbuckled the collar of my hood and unzipped it’s back, pulling it from my sweaty scalp.
“Get to work, slave…”
I started with his boots, giving them long, hard licks with my eager tongue while he lay back on the rubber sheets and pillow, smiling as he watched me. I crouched into his beautiful body which smelt of rubber and worked my way up his shiny chaps, making the taste of the latex fill my mouth, getting hornier and harder in my service of his rubbers. Then I shuffled up to his chest and found his gorgeous nipples just clear of the cut of his rubber vest. I licked, tongued and bit each of them in turn, smiling inside as I heard him saying, “Good slave” occasionally.
Then he pulled my face off his chest and started to play with them himself through his soft gloves.
“Okay, finish me off slave…” he said, and I went down to his crotch and sucked him really hard as my gloves played with his balls and the skin between them and his crack. His body jolted on the bed as he launched a stream of gism into the back of my throat - gasping as he did so. I stayed down there working on his cock, draining it of every last bit of his gift to me as it softened.
“Good slave…” he said, pulling my head up next to his.
I lay down by him and started licking his tits again in absolute adoration of my perfect, sadistic, all-powerful rubber master.
I was so happy. He now owned me completely - just as I’d wanted - he’d said as much earlier. And he’d trained me enough to take whatever he did to me in the future. I was owned - body and mind - completely controlled, everything from my clothes to my sleep to my bodily functions. Owned by the man I loved and worshipped. I could now lose myself in serving him and his desires: nothing else mattered.
He rubbed my throbbing cock through my suit as our tongues filled each other’s mouths. I couldn’t look away from his beautiful, intense, masterful eyes. There was nobody - nothing - in the world I could worship more, and to be kept in the most cruel and severe rubber bondage for his pleasure was more than I could ever hope for… but it was mine. My imprisonment by him, my torture by him, my degradation by him… all mine for as long as his sadistic heart wanted them.
My master had let me into heaven and I wanted him to lock me in forever.
“Right…” he said, taking his hands off my crotch, “we’ll celebrate properly with a real messy cumfest when we get back, but for now we’d better get ready to go out. You first…”
He motioned for me to stand up, and he went over to the rail with all the suits and rubbers hanging from it. He came back over to me with a thick latex dry suit which had boots on it but no gloves - just tight wrist-seals and a dry-zip across the back of the shoulders.
“Get into it, slave…” he said, handing me the heavy rubber. He’d said nothing about removing the suit I was already in, so I kept it on.
I stepped into the dry suit and wriggled it up my body, pushing my gloved hands out through the wrist-seals and pulled my head through the hole in the rubber collar. He walked round behind me and pulled the brass zip across my shoulderblades.
“You’re starting to look really pervy…” he said and kissed me while he groped my crotch. Then he walked off again, returning with a frighteningly heavy set of iron shackles.
“This is so that you and everybody else is in no doubt that you’re owned…” he said, holding them up in front of me.
It was a complete set of shackles made from thick, polished iron. A heavy chain ran down from the front of the collar to meet another chain that joined a manacle for each ankle. About halfway up the main chain was another that went from either side of it to the wrist manacles.
“Sit on the bed, slave…” he said firmly.
I sat down and he fixed manacles around each of the boots of the dry suit, locking them on with some kind of special screw-key. Already I could feel the weight of them, getting really turned on by such severe restraint (and the thought of my master parading me in public in it).
Next he locked the upper set of manacles onto my wrists, the various chains shuffling and rattling with deep, heavy metallic noises.
Finally he placed the hinged collar around my neck and closed it. It rested on my shoulders, comfortably tight - but very heavily - around the base of my neck. As with all the other shackles, once he’d got the hinges closed, he used the screw-key device to lock it shut.
“Stand up and let me see you…” he said.
I stood before him, the weight of all the shackles a completely new thing to me - but feeling fucking sexy clamped onto my thick rubbers. He smiled and fondled his cock which was getting rapidly hard again.
“Right…” he said, “I’m off to get changed. Sit on the bed and wait for your master.”
I did so and watched his beautiful buns moving between the shiny chaps as he walked off out of the dungeon.
Alan was gone for ages - probably having a bath and/or resting before changing into whatever outfit he’d decided on for the night.
I just sat there enjoying the feeling of drizzles of sweat and pre-cum moving around inside my two suits and of the utter pervy, sexy feel of the irons that my master had so carefully locked me into.
When he returned he was wearing his beautifully shiny rubber jeans - and I was imagining tasting the juicy, sweaty cock that was stuck inside them. He had the tit-flasher vest on again, and his riding boots, thin rubber gloves and biker jacket. I’d expected him to have the hangmans hood on, but he didn’t. Instead he’d got got all his studs, rings and sleepers in his nose and ears. He looked so horny, so severe and pervy and I felt perfect knowing that I now belonged to him - to that gorgeous rubber sadist. He carried what at first appeared to be a small sheet of rubber, but as he held it up in front of me I saw that it was a rubber bag-hood with a drawstring round the bottom that had a small padlock hanging from a fixing on it.
“Right, we’d better put this on you slave, our lift’s here.”
He placed the bag over my head, and I was enveloped in warm, latex darkness. He pulled the drawstring and it all shuffled tightly round my neck. Then I heard him snap the padlock into place and put the key away in one of his pockets.
Without a word, he helped me to my feet and walked my blind, sluggish, weighted body across the dungeon and up the steps. The chain between my ankles wasn’t very long and forced me to take short, awkward steps. My suits rippled on my hot, wet skin and my warm breath began to condense on the inside of the bag-hood. I suddenly felt the cold air of outside and - completely disorientated - I was slowly sat down in a car with my master stroking me and whispering “I love you” to me.
We were in the car for some time and I was cooking inside my suits and dripping sweat onto my face inside the confines of the hood. It was the kind of disorientation and movement and heat that could make you carsick, but I was just too turned on to notice. I kept my hands down by my lap - where my master would want them to be - while he rubbed and flicked the bulge in the crotch of my rubbers.
Eventually we arrived, and he lifted me from the car and slowly walked me into the club. I could hear music and people as we walked deep into the building - my heavy shackles and the short chain between the ankles making me slow and hesitant - until we were in the centre of the noise. Alan sat me down.
“Wait here while I get some drinks, slave…” he said and left me - almost frightened in my isolation.
When he eventually came back, he sat next to me and brought his face next to the bag-hood to talk to me.
“Well, there’s quite a few people looking at you…” he said, “They’re probably wondering what I do to you when we’re alone. If I keep you in that all the time… Which I might from now on ’cause you look sexy and helpless in it, and that’s how I like you to look.”
He kept me in the bag-hood for quite some time while he drank and smoked and chatted to people that stopped by him. He was turned away from me when he was talking - and the other people weren’t near enough for me to make out what they were saying - so all I could hear was the muffled buzz of conversation. Was it about me? Was he fixing up other slaves to play with us in the dungeon? Was he even going to loan me to another master? I could only guess - and get an even more rigid hard-on. The iron manacles and collar weighed heavily on me, turning me on by what serious bits of bondage gear they were - I was truly Alan’s prisoner (though there could never be another prisoner this willing).
Eventually he unlocked the bag-hood and slowly pulled it from my sweaty face and sodden hair. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked around to see a crowd of rubber and leather-clad men and women. Some wore catsuits, some gasmasks, some hoods, some jeans or chaps, some waders, some tall docs, some harnesses and collars, some virtually nothing at all. The light wasn’t too bright, but I could see all the beautiful rubber and leather and the people enjoying being in it.
Alan kissed me, forcing his tongue way into my mouth while he felt all over my dry suit, noisily shifting the chains around.
“You look lovely, my slave…” he said, smiling at me, “now have some beer and help yourself to a ciggie.”
There was a bottle of beer ready for me and I lifted it with my heavy arms and drank the cool liquid gratefully. Alan kept an arm hung round me, alternately drinking and smoking with the other, while I lifted my drink and cigarette with my gloved hands - the clumsy iron weight of my shackles and the thick, heavy layers of sweaty rubber ever-present.
I felt so special being shown off like this, in such utter bondage to my beautiful, pierced rubber master.
A guy was standing nearby, making sure Alan could see him. He smiled occasionally at my master and eventually Alan got up and went to talk to him. He was really cute: his head was completely shaved apart from a narrow shock of long, jet black hair that was tied back into a short ponytail and his ears were covered in rings and studs - he had several rings in his eyebrows too, and one in the side of his nose. His face was sculpted and his eyes were dark. He wore glossy PVC jeans and big, black, strapped scrambler boots. His chest was bare and his pierced tits were joined by a delicate metal chain. On his arms he wore long rubber gloves, but with the fingers cut off them and partly covered with bangles and studded wriststraps - a cigarette in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. His long neck had a chain round it, secured with a padlock. Alan talked with him for a while - he was smiling and they occasionally glanced at me, Alan even tugged on the chain between his tits a couple of times - and then he came back and sat down by the heavy rubber and iron mass of his slave.
“His name’s Richard and he wants to know if he can piss in your suit.”
“What did you say?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“I told him I’d think about it. Anyway, I’ve got his phone number for another time. ‘Bet you wouldn’t mind me letting him torture you, would you slut?”
“Yes master.” I admitted. He clearly knew as much anyway.
We talked for a while - not as master and slave, but as Alan and Gareth for the first time since my training had begun. It was strange not to be feeling like a slave in all my gear or to respond to him as anything other than some kind of rubber-clad god, but there in our gear, horny as hell, we just chatted and kissed and hugged. My shackles and the rubbery mess that filled my inner suit always reminded me of what I really was, but it was nice just to be there with him as we talked and cruised the night away.
After a while he got up and became my master again.
“Come with me, slave…” he said, and I lifted myself and the weight of my gear and restraints to follow him slowly across the crowded bar. As we passed Richard, Alan asked him, “Coming?” and he smiled and walked ahead of me with my master. We went into the toilets and Alan directed us into a large cubicle, closed off floor to ceiling from the rest of the room.
“Kneel before your master…” said Alan. I did, and he leant me forward to get at the dry-zip across the back of my shoulders. He opened it and then said to Richard, “Feel free…”
I felt him moving himself over the hole and suddenly he gushed a thick, hard jet of hot piss down into my suit. It lasted for ages and my cock went rigid against my stomach as I felt it splashing down my spine. When Richard had finished, Alan told him to thank me, and so he came round in front of me and knelt down and kissed me while my master added his own long flow of steaming, beery urine to the mess in my dry suit. When he’d finished he pulled the heavy brass zip shut again and said, “And now you can thank both of us slave…”
Their piss sloshed around in the suit as I virtually lay on the floor and licked Richard’s and Alan’s boots, going back and forth for minute after minute.
“Okay, that’s enough… Good slave.” said Alan, and helped me to my feet again, now even heavier and clumsier with their piss swilling around in my legs. He turned to Richard.
“I’ll give you a ring, yeah?”
“Please…” he said.
Then we walked back out again and Richard disappeared into the crowd. We sat down again and Alan looked at me.
“You love being controlled by me, don’t you slave?”
“God yes, master.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Yes master. A lot.”
“Good…” he said, and put the bag-hood on me again. Soon it was tightened and padlocked into place and I waited in obedient silence under the crushing weight of the ironwork and the thick heat of my suits for half an hour or so till Alan said, “Let’s go home.”
Once more my awkward, slow figure was walked through the crowd by my master, and after a while we were outside - the cold air sending a strange but wonderful shiver through the wetness of my rubbers. I was carefully put in the car again and my master stroked me in silence as the long journey passed. As the car invisibly bumped and sped and swung it’s way home, my bladder finally gave way and a hot, pulsing flood of my own piss rushed up my belly and round my legs, filling my suit with yet more steamy, sexy mess. He helped me out of the car when it finally stopped and the doors opened, and walked me back down into the dungeon. I was taken slowly over to the bed, where he sat me on the edge of it. The bag-hood was unlocked, loosened and lifted off my head and I looked into my master’s eyes.
“You really do look sexy in that, slave…” he said.
“Thank you master. I love you.”
“I know I promised you a cum-fest when we got back, but now I’d kind of like you to sleep in those suits and the manacles all night first… To really get you going.”
“I am your slave: I will do whatever you wish.”
“I know. How do you fancy some more piss in there before you go to sleep?”
“Whatever you wish, master…”
“The thing is, I don’t actually need a piss…”
Then a figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the dungeon.
“…How about you, Richard?”
His body jewellery and glossy jeans glinted as his menacing figure moved into the light.
“I’m fuckin’ bursting, Alan sir…” he said with a wicked smile, as my master began to undo the dry-zip.
THE END OF "TRAINING"
Part 1
I followed Alan down the steps into the dungeon. We both wore jeans and t-shirts and I began to feel nervous as I saw the various rubber suits and restraints hanging from the walls, and the cage and sling and rubber bed in the semi-darkness of the room.
“This is where you’ll live for the next month or so - or however long it takes me to train you as my rubberman” he said slowly and deliberately.
I was beginning to have misgivings. Should I have really signed that piece of paper that gave him complete control over my body and mind? Would there be any way of going back on it if things became too hard?
“Take off your clothes” he said.
I pulled off the t-shirt and jeans and sneakers and he put them in a cardboard box.
“You won’t be needing them for a long, long time…” he said with a grin, “so I’ll keep them for you.”
I could tell from that grin that he was getting off on the power I’d given him. I’d always begged him to completely strip me of my identity and to make me serve him as a total rubberman. Now I was going to find out what it would be like.
I stood there naked in front of him - not cold though, as the dungeon seemed comfortably warm. He gave my semi-hard cock a gentle tug and his grin disappeared.
“Get into the gear I’ve laid out for you,” he said, pointing at a pile of folded rubbers on a table at the side of the dungeon, “and wait for your master.”
With that he turned and carried the box up the stairs and shut the heavy door behind him.
I walked over to the table and unfolded the rubbers. There was a suit with an all-round zip, a pair of gloves and a hood with eye-holes and a zip mouth. I pulled on the suit, already feeling turned on by the soft, clinging feeling. Then I slipped the hood on, zipping it tightly down the back of my head and fastening the collar. Finally I stretched the gloves back up my forearms.
I knelt down on the floor with my hands behind my back and waited for Alan to return.
I waited for ages. It seemed like over an hour, though it was difficult to tell in the warm silence of the room. I began to feel the moistness of sweat in my gloves and from the warm breath inside the hood.
Still I waited. I wanted to feel my cock - now hot and very hard - through the rubber. But I knew I mustn’t.
Then I heard the door. I heard the slow footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t look up. I knew he’d want me to be completely subservient and that was the best way I could think of showing it right then.
I saw his boots on the floor in front of me: gleaming, tall, rubber riding boots that almost reached his knees and the rubber jeans that came out of the top of them.
“Look up at me, slave.”
I looked up and saw him. My beautiful rubber master. My perfect rubber master. Tucked into his jeans was a shiny, tight rubber t-shirt and over that was a rubber biker jacket. His eyes gleamed lovingly - yet almost viciously down at mine - and his face was completely without expression.
“Have you anything to say, slave?”
“I love you master.”
“How much?”
“More than anything in the world master.”
“Will you let me do anything I want to you?”
“Yes master.”
“Whether it’s to turn me on, to service me, or even just because I get a kick out of it?”
“Yes master.”
He paused. As I looked at him he stared back and unzipped the mouth of my hood. It was only then that I noticed he was wearing tight rubber gloves too. He pushed one of them into my mouth - a couple of fingers first - and then nearly the whole fist till I almost gagged on it. But I just sucked on it for all I was worth. Tasting the strange taste of the rubber and loving the fact that he was already - in a small way - inside me.
With his other hand he unzipped the jeans and pulled out his big, hard cock. The end gleamed with pre-cum and he slowly pulled my hood onto it. It filled my mouth. It tasted beautiful. I worshipped it with my tongue and my lips.
As I played with it, my face being pressed hard into his shiny jeans by him, he began to speak.
“I am going to change you from the half-decent slave you are into my complete rubber slave. You will be perfect by the time I’ve finished training you. You will have no life, no face, no personality - but you will be perfect. You will live here in the dungeon encased in rubber and you will exist to serve my cock, to take my piss and to do anything that turns me on, no matter how degrading. I will dress you in whatever rubber gear I want - as many layers of it as I want - and you will be sealed into it, completely turned on by it and by your discomfort and you will be unable to do anything about it.”
I sucked harder on his gorgeous cock. It was getting harder (just as mine was) as he talked and thought about what he could do to me and I wanted it to just explode and fill my throat with white hot spunk.
Then he pulled my head away from it and pointed my face up towards his.
“Understand slave?”
“Yes master.”
He attatched a leash to the collar on my hood and pushed me down onto all fours. I followed him as he showed me round the dungeon. First he pointed to the sling with loads of restraints and chain and rope hanging off it.
“I will fuck you in this sling. I will keep you restrained in it. I will lay back in it and have you rim me and suck me off in it.”
Then he pointed at restraints hanging from the beams and coming out the walls by the floor.
“I will fix you in these and use you as I want. I will leave you stuck in them for hours while I go clubbing and I will fuck you senseless in them when I get back…”
He looked down at me, smiling wickedly. Then he pointed to the bed with the rubber sheets on it.
“Sometimes I will let you sleep on this bed…” then he pointed to a small wooden box nearby, “though mostly you will sleep padlocked inside that. You will of course sleep in full rubbers, possibly with a butt plug up you and your cock and balls trussed up. You will wear fist mitts too so that you can’t get at yourself. Understood?”
I nodded, turned on and frightened in equal amounts.
Alan pointed to a small cage that was just high enough to stand in.
“I will keep you in there much of the time…” he said. Finally he tugged on my leash and pulled me over to a large kind of a shower cubicle in the far corner.
“And this is where you will clean up whenever I tell you.”
He slowly walked back across the dungeon to the sling. I crawled behind him, dying for him to let me lick those boots. God, I thought. I love my master. How could I want anything but to be completely reinvented as his rubberman.
“Stand up” he said pulling on the leash. I slowly got up and we stared into each others eyes.
“We’ll start with something gentle - and then your torment begins.”
He manouvered me back into the sling and tied the loose end of the leash to one of the chains that it hung from. He fastened my wrists and ankles tightly into the straps that hung from the chains and padlocked chains around my body and through the rings in my collar until I was securely fastened into the sling. He smiled as he pulled open the zip of my suit around my arse. He pulled his cock out again and smeared it with KY. I shuddered and groaned as he slowly pressed it into my crack, the muffled noises from my hood making Alan smile. Soon his cock was completely in and the intense, almost painful feeling made me heat up inside my suit. Alan leant forward slightly, put his hands over my shoulders and gently, ever so slowly, rocked my helpless, shiny rubber body full of tingling nerves back and forth onto him. He kept it slow for ages and ages as I sweated and whimpered and gazed out of my hood into his stern, beautiful eyes.
As he got faster and faster I looked at the sweat breaking out on him, my gorgeous, perfect rubber sadist. He let out a huge grunt as he finally shot his load into me and I shook violently with him. My cock was pressed hard against the inside of my clinging, wet rubbers and felt like it might just explode at any moment. I whimpered with anticipation.
Alan cleaned his cock off on a towel and put it back in his jeans. Then he zipped my suit back up and stood next to me, running his gloved hands all over my body while studying the way he could make me shudder with delight at the slightest touch.
“Did you enjoy that, slave?” he asked eventually.
“Yes master. Thank you.”
“And what do you want now? Tell me honestly…”
“I want to come off, master.”
“Well you can’t. Not yet. You’re going to have to learn that the satisfaction of your cock means nothing. When you are finally my rubberman, you’ll want nothing more than to exist - sealed up in rubber - to serve my cock. You’ll forget that you’ve even got a cock of your own. Just as you’ll forget what it’s like not to wear rubber. What it’s like not to sleep in a box. What it’s like not to have a hood covering your head.”
“Yes master.”
“So what shall I do with you?” he said to himself after a pause, and continued feeling his way all over my suit, making sure he kept returning to my crotch so that I’d repeatedly arch up into all my restraints with a massive groan.
“I think we ought to start your training with some piss confinement, slave. What do you think?”
“Whatever pleases you master.”
“That’s better.” he said, pleased with my response.
One by one he took off the straps and chains and told me to stand up.
“Take the hood off” he said as he walked across to a rail with loads of suits, sleepsacks and straightjackets hanging from it.
As I pulled off the hood, streams of sweat ran from my hair and down my face. I looked at Alan. He held up a suit in front of me. It was made from heavy rubber and had feet and gloves as part of it. It also had a hood on it which had no eye-holes or mouth, but a number of tubes running from a raised area where the face should have been. A couple of them were small, thin tubes, another was a thick, corrugated one. There was a long dry-zip running up the back of the suit and I realised that it would be completely watertight.
“Shall I take this suit off first master?” I asked, as it was fairly hot just wearing the one layer.
“No,” he said, “and never speak unless I tell you to. Okay?”
I nodded meekly. Clearly I wouldn’t be allowed to suggest ways of making things easier on me in future.
“Get into it, slave.” he said, putting it on the floor.
I stepped into its feet and pulled the legs up. Then I found the arms and pushed my gloved hands deep down into them till they found the fingers at the end. It was a heavy suit, much thicker than the one I already had on and straight away I began to feel hot in it. Finally I pulled the head section back over my sweating scalp and everything disappeared into blackness. I could hear my breathing inside the small hollow space where all the tubes came in. The sound of the outside world was muffled and distant. I could hear Alan beginning to close the stiff, brass zip on the back of the suit.
I suddenly felt really claustrophobic and helpless. He really did have total control over me. There was nothing I could do. Although I felt frightened, my cock became rigid with excitement at being sealed up in a suit that was clearly designed to have people piss into it. I was surrendering to my master every last shred of dignity so that he could use me as some kind of human urinal. Presumably he needed a piss now, I thought. When the zip was fully shut and I was properly enclosed in my hot, heavy, rubber prison, Alan began to rub me all over again.
“You look beautiful, my slave. I might keep you in this a lot.”
It turned me on just knowing that it was turning him on doing such a degrading, sadistic thing to me.
“Come with me, slave.” he said and began to walk my unsteady body over to another part of the dungeon.
He pushed me down onto the floor and secured my feet with a pair of ankle-cuffs. Then I realised I was in the cage, because he pulled my arms between the bars and handcuffed them on the other side. Then he shut the cage door and I heard the metallic click of a padlock.
His voice was right next to the total blackness of my hood.
“I don’t need to piss right now,” he said, “but I probably will later. So you’ll be ready. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Good slave. You’d better get used to this kind of thing too, because this is how you’ll spend most of your waking hours: trussed up in rubber, waiting to serve me - either as my urinal, my cocksucker or my fuckpiece.”
And then he was gone.
For hours there was just silence around me. All I could hear was the noises my suits made rubbing against each other and the slick rippling of the inner suit on my drenched body. My breathing sounded loud, filling the hot, heavy hood with its wetness. Although it was fairly comfortable to be sat down, my arms and legs ached with the positions they’d been secured in. More hours passed. God knows how many - maybe four or five.
Then I heard the the door again and the boots coming down the steps. They seemed to take forever to cross the dungeon to me. My heart raced at the idea of being stuck in all this rubber and Alan filling it with his piss. My cock pressed itself against the suit.
Alan said nothing. I heard his jeans unzipping though and felt the thick, corrugated tube being lifted slightly.
There was a sudden rushing noise and then my master’s steaming hot piss gushed into my hood. Some poured into my open mouth, more splashed all over my face, neck and the shoulders of my inner suit. Some of it ran down inside against my skin, some outside over the shiny rubber. All of it showered into the heavy suit though: the rubber container that Alan had chained to the inside of the cage.
This was wonderful. Being put in total rubber enclosure (that I couldn’t possibly get out of) by the man I worshipped and having him fill up my suit with his piss. I almost came off as it rushed over me and into me.
Soon - and without a word - he was gone again and I was left in the silence once more. As well the sounds of my rubbers, I could now sense the atmosphere of this enclosed world. It reeked of piss and of sweat and of rubber. It filled the hood and my nostrils. I would have to learn to love this smell, I thought, as Alan would imprison me with it again and again.
After another hour or so - I think - he came back again. Once more he took a mighty piss down the tube. I almost laughed with pleasure at how good it made me feel to be showered by his fluids and to be contained in them like this. I wondered what I must look like to my master; this pathetic rubber figure chained up at his boots - totally faceless - with this tube that runs into the hood of his victim.
God, I loved him for doing this to me.
When he’d finished, I heard his rubber jeans creak softly as he crouched down beside me. He stroked my head.
“Good slave,” he said.
“You really are a good slave. You’ve been in that suit for quite a few hours now: you’re doing well. Now do you want me to let you out now or shall I shall I keep you in it for a while longer and do whatever I want for the rest of the evening?”
“Whatever you want, master” I said weakly into the hood.
“Good slave.” he said, stroking my head again and left me.
Soon after he’d gone, I found I couldn’t hold my own bladder any longer and pissed myself. Hot urine gushed up the inside of my suit, adding to the mess of sweat and pre-cum that already stuck it to my skin. Suddenly I felt like I wanted to cry. How could I do this to myself? Did I really want to live like this? Forever?
But I’d wanted this. Desperately. I’d wanted to become someone else - to become Alan’s rubberman. It was the greatest gift I could give him. It was the way I wanted to show how complete my love for him - my worship of him - was. To lose myself and become his object.
When he came back some time later he didn’t piss into my suit again, which I was expecting him to. He unchained me and led me to the shower cubicle. I stayed knelt down as he stood behind me and unzipped the suit.
“Wash and get naked” he said and shut the frosted glass door behind him before I could look up. As I pulled the suits off me, piss ran out into the shower tray, leaking from zips, falling out of the rubber limbs and streaming from my hair.
I rinsed the suits out and cleaned myself thoroughly. Then I hung the rubbers up on hangers just outside the cubicle. When I was completely dry I walked back out, naked, into the main part of the dungeon.
Alan lay on the bed, still in his rubber jeans and biker jacket, though he’d taken the t-shirt off. God, he was gorgeous. He looked every inch the master and I desperately wanted to suck him dry right there and then.
He held a cigarette in his right gloved hand and patted the shiny, black sheet with his left.
“Sit here, slave.” he said.
I sat naked on the rubber sheet. It felt good against my arse - all soft and horny. I looked at him - deep into his eyes as he continued to smoke and played with my hard cock and balls with his gloved hand.
“That feel good, slave?” he asked as he listened to my shallow, fast breathing.
“Yes master.”
“Want to come off now?”
“God yes, master.”
He smiled sadistically, knowing that I was at the point of just shooting my load all over his gorgeous, shiny gear.
“Well you’re going to have to do some good work with your tongue first. You can start with my boots.”
I licked those boots so hard, so lovingly. I worshipped them just like I worshipped his jeans and his jacket: his whole uniform - everything that made him look like the perfect sadistic master he was - the whole, shiny rubber uniform. I covered the jeans with my loving tongue too. The rubber tasted like sex. If I glanced up occasionally I’d see Alan looking at me, smiling. He knew just how much he controlled me - how much this training would allow him to do, just how far he could go. I knew from the smile that he was going to take me to hell and back… and he was going to get a pervy kick out of every bit of it.
He pulled me up towards him and shoved my face deep into his armpit and pulled the jacket over my head. I licked and licked while I felt his rubber gloves moving over my body, playing with my buttocks and my crack. Then I felt him pull my hands behind my back and snap handcuffs onto them.
He pulled me into a kneeling position next him and took his sweaty cock from out of the shiny, black jeans. I licked a load of pre-cum off the end of it and then felt his gloves tightening their grip on my head and him forcing my mouth deep over its length. Then he just kept pushing my head up and down, faster and faster and rougher and rougher on his cock until it shot a huge stream of hot, bitter cum down my throat.
He kept my face pressed down on it for a few minutes more as I drank up each last bit of gism that seeped from it.
“And now it’s your turn to come off slave,” he said and lay me back onto my restrained arms, wrapping his rubber-clad body around me. One glove moved over my mouth and pressed it firmly shut, while the other furiously wanked me off.
He whispered frantically into my ear between biting and kissing my neck.
“You’re going to wish you’d never signed that contract… I’m going to take you apart… experiment on your body… see what limits I can take you to… completely degrade you… torture you till you cry… I’m going to take away your identity, so you’re my nobody… my rubber slave…”
I screamed into Alan’s glove as my cum sprayed up my chest and my body arched into his. I shook with ecstacy as he continued rubbing my cock slowly and gently till it had run out of gism.
I kissed his jacket and his nipples and his cock while he undid my handcuffs, so grateful he had let me come off.
He wiped up my spilt cum with his gloved hands and pushed them into my mouth so that I ate every last bit of my own load - the beautiful taste of rubber and cum.
“Thank you master. I love you.”
“Lick my boots,” he said, ignoring me.
Straight away, I rushed down to them and licked them with all the love I could muster. After a while he pulled me back up so that I lay next to him and we shared a cigarette silently. And while I had the ciggy, his rubber fingers played gently with my nipples till I had a raging hard-on again.
He’d obviously meant for me to get that hard-on because at that point he said “Get into that suit,” and pointed to one that hung near the bed. Obediently I slipped my body into it, finding that the zip was at the back and finished down between my legs. There was no zip or panel at the front. Alan zipped it up for me and played with the huge erection that pressed up against the inside of the front of the suit.
“It’s going to be hard for you in that suit tonight isn’t it, slave” he said, grinning cruelly at me. He strapped long fist-mitts onto me as well so that I had no chance of working the erection off.
“To the box, slave,” he said and pushed me onto all fours.
I crawled over to it as he walked beside me, and then I climbed into it.
He knelt down next to me and pulled out a rubber blindfold from inside the box. As he put it on me, I made sure the last thing I could see was his beautiful, cruel eyes. Then all was darkness.
“Say goodnight to your master’s cock, slave.” he said pulling my face slowly forward into his crotch.
I kissed and licked and sucked on it until it was hard, and he began to push my face into it again and again. Finally with a huge grunt he came in my mouth. I swallowed it and licked the remains off his knob.
His gloves cupped my face as he kissed my forehead.
“This is nothing compared to what happens tomorrow. Goodnight slave.” he said after a while.
“Goodnight master.” I replied.
He pushed me down into the rubber sheeting and closed the lid of the wooden box, securing it with two heavy padlocks and leaving me in the sweaty, dark silence - alone with my fears, my anticipation and my painful hard-on.
Part 2
I was awake long before Alan came and unlocked the wooden box I’d slept in. The inside of my suit was drenched in sweat, and a huge load of pre-cum was smeared all around my cock which had refused to soften during the night. It had rubbed painfully up against my belly and the wet rubber of the suit, making it harder, making it leak more and more pre-cum as I tried to ignore it, my hands pathetically useless in the constricting, sweaty fist-mitts strapped onto my arms. It had been difficult to sleep at all in the stuffy confines of the box, my blindfolded head laid on an inflated rubber pillow and my soaking rubber-clad body curled up in a kind of foetal position. It was hot and uncomfortable and I still felt both frightened and excited by what might await me at the hands of my master now that I’d given him complete control over me.
I heard Alan undoing the padlocks that held the lid of the box shut and lifting it back. Straight away I could feel cooler, fresher air sweeping over my hot, wet body. He lifted me into a sitting position and took off my blinfold. As my eyes focused I could see him smiling at me out of a rubber hangman’s hood. The rest of his body was covered in a beautifully tight, shiny suit and gloves and waders. His gorgeous cock hung semi-hard from a small unzipped section of the suit, gleaming with pre-cum.
“Good morning, slave.”
“Good morning, master.”
“Get your mouth round my cock, slave” he said suddenly and sternly.
I quickly opened my mouth as he leaned forward over me while I still sat in the box. No sooner had my lips closed around his cock than it gushed a huge, hot wall of piss into my throat. I almost choked as it splashed around my mouth and filled it with a bitter, steamy taste. Alan’s gloves kept my head pressed firmly into his rubber crotch where he wanted it.
As I spluttered and gagged, trying to swallow as much of his juice as I could, it began pouring out of the sides of my mouth and down my suit. He pressed my head further down on his sweaty, rubbery knob as I continued drinking and choking on his piss.
He stopped and pulled his cock from my mouth, the smile back on his face, his eyes gleaming from inside the hangman’s hood. Then another burst of piss showered out, this time spraying my face and soaking my hair. Some stung my eyes, while more ran down into my mouth.
I’d never really liked the taste of piss - not unless it was pretty weak after a night on the booze - but I still worshipped it and wanted to taste it and drink it and be covered in it because it was HIS. It was like some fantastically obscene communion as I drank from his body, drank his waste - just to prove how much I loved him.
While I sat there, my head soaked in his hot piss, he picked up a hood from the floor next to him and zipped it tightly onto my head, buckling its collar roughly into place. It had no eye holes at all and fitted me perfectly - so tightly, filling my nostrils with the scent of rubber again and sealing in all that piss around my head and in my hair. It did, however, have a large open space for the mouth - much larger than the usual slits or zips.
“Are you really sweaty in that suit, slave?” he asked.
“Yes master, soaking.”
“Good… And you’re still hard from last night?”
“Yes master.”
“Let me feel…” he said and began to grope my crotch really roughly, making me squirm with pleasure and bursts of agony as he played. This went on for a few minutes till I could hardly bear it and wanted to scream for him to stop when suddenly his hand was gone. A few seconds later I felt a leash being attatched to my collar. He pulled me to my feet and walked me a few feet across the dungeon. I walked hesitantly and awkwardly, partly because of the lack of sight, partly because of the rubbing of my hard-on inside my suit.
Alan pushed me face down onto the bed while he - I think - sat down or laid down beside me, unzipping my backside and forcing a lubricated, rubber-gloved hand up into my crack.
“I want you to rub yourself off against the bed, slave.” he said, moving a finger around deep inside my arse. I moaned and whimpered and squirmed as it tingled and burned inside me.
With the fist-mitts on, it was difficult to make any kind of proper grip on the bed, but soon my tired, sweating body, cocooned in skintight rubber, was fucking the rubber sheets for all it was worth, breathing fast and shallow as I tried to reach orgasm without actually pissing myself at the same time.
Suddenly the muscles in my backside tightened round Alan’s fingers and my whole body seemed to go into spasm and I cried out loud a hoarse, wordless cry as hot cum splattered and shot up the inside of my suit. My cock seemed white hot and my limbs shook uncontrollably. My voice fell away and I was left, drenched and whimpering in the tight, wet void of my rubbers. My master slowly pulled out his fingers from my crack and gently stroked my back and my head. I could feel his rubber moving softly on mine and I loved him for putting me through such exquisite torment to pleasure the two of us.
“Good slave…” he whispered against my hood, “good slave.”
He stroked me a while longer and then turned me over onto my back. I lay there, blinded and expectant as I heard his waders creaking next to me and felt his beautiful, suited body moving somewhere above mine.
Then he knelt down right over my face, one wader jamming in on either side of my head - his calves held my useless arms down on the bed - and unzipped the arse of his suit. In no time he had settled his crack down onto the opening in my hood. Rubbery sweat from his back and his crotch poured into my mouth.
“Rim me, slave! Rim me for all you’re fuckin’ worth!” he shouted, wriggling his arse further into my face. I licked and licked, barely able to breathe underneath him, tasting his sweat and tasting his crack, thinking I was the luckiest man alive to have him - all rubbered up - shifting around on my face, lucky bastard slave that I am.
I could hear him moaning and grunting as I worked at his crack and soon his arms were reaching back and toying with my nipples - making me go at him even more frantically as my cock hardened once more.
Eventually he lifted himself off and I herad him playing with his zip.
“Mmmmm. Good slave.” he said as his body shifted somewhere above me. Then he settled down onto me again but a bit further back and I tasted a dangling strand of pre-cum that swung into my mouth.
“And now - as a reward for being so good you can have your breakfast. Do you want me to give you your breakfast, slave?”
“Please master.”
“Well here it comes…” he said viciously and rammed his cock deep into my mouth. I just lay there as he fucked my face, harder and harder and quicker and quicker. I moved my fist-mitts up behind him and stroked his buttocks as he plunged in and out of my throat.
“Aagh!” he suddenly shouted and, with a final jolt, shot a wave of hot spunk into me. I stayed still as he continued to move up and down on my face, slower and slower until he was exhausted and I had taken every last drop of his wonderful gism down.
After a while he got up off me and I heard him zipping his suit back up.
He pulled on my leash and helped move me up off the bed. I stood there completely disorientated in the blackness of the hood, still tasting his cum in my mouth as he slowly fingered my suit, playing with my nipples and running his gloves around my body, making me shudder with pleasure. Soon his hands reached the bulge of my cock and he rubbed it around, making it glide through the mess of spunk and sweat inside my suit. It was rock hard again and ached with every motion he made.
“It feels a bit messy in there, slave…” he said, taunting me.
“Yes master. It is.” I replied feebly.
He continued playing with the bulge for a while, probably studying the way my mouth twitched as he turned it on more and more.
“Come with me…” he said after a while and began to lead me across the dungeon. When we stopped he took the leash off my collar and began fixing restraints to my ankles, making sure my legs were spread slightly open. Then he lifted my arms up above me one at a time and, with them still enclosed in the fist-mitts secured them to some thick, padded restraints that were hanging from the ceiling on thick, heavy chains.
Then he unzipped my hood and took it off, putting aside on a table nearby. He came and stood in front of me, bringing a fearsome looking cat-and-nine-tails with him. He dragged its mass of rubber flails across one of his gloves, not taking his eyes off my face.
“I want to see your face while I do this…” he said, a cruel smile appearing beneath the hangmans hood and his beautiful eyes glinting at the pleasure he was about to have.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, slave…” he said, “but I’m going to give you a fucking good whipping.” He tenderly touched the side of my soaking face with his glove.
“But you’ve got to learn to take any torture I decide to give you… no matter how severe. And also I’m just going to get a big turn-on out of giving you the most extreme sensations that you never even knew existed - and that you never thought you could bear.”
He began to run the whip across my chest and then my back and my arse as he walked around me. Soon his beautiful, suited figure was back in front of me.
“And if you’re wondering why I’ve not stripped you for this, it’s because it’s going to sting even more through all the rubber and sweat. Now be brave and take this like the perfect slave you want me to turn you into…”
With that he started whipping my rubber-clad body, slowly at first, with intensely hot, stinging blows. At first I just made grunting noises and startled whimpers, but as the frequency and viciousness of the lashes increased I began to scream out loud. Not for mercy. Not for him to stop. But just because it was the only thing I could do.
He beat me all over: on my arse, up my back, on my nipples and on my crotch. Tears of agony streamed from my eyes as my body swung violently in the restraints, jumping at the explosions of pain that came with each blow. Through my tears I saw him stood in front of me in his suit and waders, swinging the lash across my hard-on, gritting his teeth, his eyes burning deep into mine.
After a while - along while - he stopped and my exhausted body hung limp in front of him as I cried uncontrollably at the washes of painful heat that spread out inside my suit. He put the whip away on the table and came back to me. I wanted him to kiss me but he just looked at the restraints and began to undo them one by one. When he’d taken them all off I just stood there. He put one of his gloved hands on top of my head and pushed me down onto my knees.
“Good slave…” he said as he undid the zip around his crotch and pulled out a huge, hard cock, streaming with pre-cum.
“Good slave…” he kept repeating as he pushed my face onto it.
I sobbed as I sucked on him, realising just how complete an experience he was going to make this for me. That pain was for real but he was doing it because I’d wanted to go through anything for him. He was just making sure I did go through everything for him.
His body jolted as he came in my mouth: warm, comforting spurts that told me he was rewarding me for the pain I’d gone through. The spunk kept coming - loads of it streaming in and rolling over my tongue and into the corners of my mouth. He kept my face pressed into his crotch for a while and then pulled me away so that I could look up at his beautiful, sadistic body and face.
The suit was skintight on him, as were the gloves, and his eyes were so intense they looked almost lit-up inside his hood. He smiled down at me.
“You did well, slave…” he said, running a glove through my sodden hair, “but you reek of piss.” He patted my head and walked away to the rail with all the suits and sleepsacks hung from it. He spoke as he rummaged through the gear.
“I’m going out shopping for a few hours so I’m going to have to leave you on your own and I don’t want you playing with yourself and trying to satisfy your own cock when you should be thinking of me…”
He walked back over to me carrying a heavy rubber straightjacket.
“Stand up, slave.”
I stood up and held out my arms, still sheathed in the tight fist-mitts, as he held up the straightjacket and put it onto me, feeding my arms deep into its long sleeves. Straight away the thickness of it heated me up even more than I already was and sweat began rolling from my hair, bringing the remains of my master’s piss with it.
He walked round behind me and zipped it up. Then before doing up all the straps, he opened the arse of my suit and pushed a heavily lubricated vibrator up it. I groaned as it made its way deep inside me and he strapped it into place with a tight crotch harness that it was attatched to. Then he fastened all the straps on the straightjacket extremely tightly, padlocking each of them shut. He did the same for the straps that went between my legs and the buckles and fastenings on the end of the sleeves. Finally he firmly locked up the stiff rubber collar of the straightjacket and walked round in front of me.
The constriction was making me ache already: this might well be a very long few hours for me, I thought.
Alan walked me over to the cage and sat me down in it, locking the door of it as he left. Then he knelt down next to me and I gazed deep into the eyes that sparkled from inside the hangmans hood as he smiled at me.
He held up a small plastic device with a button on it.
“Oh, and this is how I’m going to make sure you’re thinking of me while I’m away…” he said and pressed the button down.
The vibrator started up and my body jolted as my hard-on sprang up against the inside of my suit. I moaned. Then it stopped again.
“Now stay there, won’t you…” he said with the most cruel smile on his beautiful face. God I loved him for reducing me to this. God I loved him for having this much control over me. I nuzzled my face up to the gloved hand that held one of the bars in front of me and he watched, smiling at his pathetic and willing victim, as I kissed and licked it for minute after minute.
He leant his face into the bars and kissed me with a long, tender kiss.
Then without a word he got up, turned around and left me, switching the lights out as he closed the cellar door behind him.
I lost track of time really, totally disorientated by the dark and the silence and aching from the severity of the straightjacket’s tightness and the soreness of my whipmarks in the clammy wetness of my suit.
But after some long while I heard what I thought was the main door to the shouse shutting as he left.
The vibrator buzzed and throbbed as it burst into life, rubbing up against my prostate. I pictured Alan in his suit and waders brandishing the whip - and straight away I let out a huge, agonised moan as a fresh load of hot cum sprayed up the inside of my rubbers, my body squirming around in the cramping, padlocked security of the straightjacket.
Part 3
I couldn’t believe how much pain I was in from just being slumped there in the cage for so long. My skin felt sore and still smarted in the dampness of my suit from the vicious beating from Alan’s cat-and-nine-tails. My chest and arms ached with the constriction of the straightjacket, padlocked so tightly onto my helpless body and my arse ached from the thick vibrator strapped into it. I sat there for hour after hour, sweating in the darkness, drinking the streams that rolled down my face to try and quench my dry throat. I leant my temples against the cold steel of the cage bars to cool them down and shifted uncomfortably in my gism and all the other mess that was building up in my suit.
I thought I heard the distant noise of the front door as he returned but he didn’t come down to the dungeon for another two hours or so. I had no idea of what time it might be: there would be no daylight - only the light and dark that he decided I should have.
Finally I heard the heavy door to the dungeon being unlocked and his boots coming down the steps once he’d shut it behind him. The lights came on and I squinted for some time, trying to adjust after such a long period of total darkness. When I was eventually able to see, I found that he was stood near the cage just staring at my pathetic, hunched form. He was wearing the one-piece suit and waders again, with gloves and the rubber hangmans hood completing his outfit. He looked so severe and so powerful - I smiled weakly at his beautiful, perfect, masterful figure.
“How are you, slave?” he asked after a long silence.
“Aching, master.” I replied.
He just smiled with an obvious satisfaction.
Then he unlocked the cage and lifted me into a standing position and helped me to walk slowly towards the restraints that hung from the ceiling. This time he didn’t reach for the wrist restraints but let down some wider ankle restraints on another set of chains.
“Lie down on your back, slave.” he said, and I clumsily made my way down onto the floor, still in my suit and straightjacket.
“Put your feet up in the air…” he said sternly.
I did so, and he secured my ankles in the restraints. Then he went over to the wall and used a pulley to raise them further and further up until I was basically resting my shoulders and upper back on the floor, my legs strained and dangling from up near his chest. He walked over to the table and fetched the riding crop. He stood virtually over my face, looking into my terrified eyes as he tapped the crop against the open palm of his glove.
“I never want to hear you tell me you’re aching, slave…” he said angrily and lashed the crop across my bollocks. I screamed out loud with the intensity of the pain and my straightjacketed torso swung wildy with the shock.
“I want only to hear you worshipping me! Understand?” he said as he whipped my scrotum again. I screamed once more.
“I said do you understand, slave?” he shouted and swung the crop right across my cock.
“Yes master!” I managed to cry back before screaming with the stinging of the blow through the drenched suit on my tender flesh.
He walked around behind me and flogged my arse with all his might. My muscles clenched on the vibrator and I lurched pathetically around on my shoulders, trying to avoid the worst of the beating. He wouldn’t let me avoid it though, and just kept beating me and beating me till he could hear how hard I was crying and that my body was so exhausted it just hung limp and shook with each new blow.
He stopped and walked around to stand over my face again, pointing the crop down and rubbing my face with it.
“Are you sorry, slave?”
“Yes master, I’m sorry. I love you.” I replied, sobbing.
“Thank me for punishing you then…”
“Thank you master.” I said quietly and reverently.
“Good slave…” he said, beginning to smile again, “I punish you to teach you a lesson and you must thank me for teaching you, mustn’t you slave?”
“Yes master. Thank you.”
“Now lick my waders, slave…”
Although it was difficult to move myself in the straightjacket, I managed to lean my head over and set my tongue to work on the heavy, industrial rubber of my master’s waders. My dangling body - a shiny, black mass of straps and padlocks twiched and swung as I tried to keep my face leant into his boots.
After a while he knelt down over me and just felt me through the straightjacket, feeling how tight it was on me, rattling all the padlocks, getting turned-on at how trussed up I was and slowly moving his gloved hand up to massage my sore cock. I whimpered and shivered at the mixture of pain and relief he gave me and wanted to shout out how much I loved him - but I knew I must keep silent unless he told me to speak.
Then, still knelt over me, Alan undid the zip of his suit so that just his crack was showing and, without a word, lowered himself down onto my face.
I rimmed him deep and hard, showing how good a slave I could be - hardly able to draw breath most of the time, gasping frantically at the hot, sweaty air trapped inside his suit. My tongue flicked around inside his crack while he used his mouth to suck on - and play with - my genitals even though they were imprisoned in my skintight rubbers.
I heard him moaning as I kept on rimming him, and I kept letting out small whimpers as he gently bit on my nads through the suit.
Then he moved himself off me and walked off to the chains and pulley at the wall. As he pulled on the chains my body was slowly lifted clear of the floor altogether, and he kept working at the pulley for a while, zipped his backside up again whilst unzipping his cock and then walked back over to me.
I dangled upside-down, completely helpless in the straightjacket with his wet, hard cock dribbling a long strand of pre-cum right in front of my mouth. His rubber gloves stroked my hair for a moment and then grabbed my head tightly and plunged it down onto his shaft.
He pumped my head back and forth onto its length as I gagged and spluttered. His motions became quicker and I heard him sighing and groaning as he came closer and closer to orgasm.
He stopped suddenly as he groaned really loudly, keeping my head pressed absolutely into his suit - the whole length of his cock filling my mouth. Then it just exploded into my throat with a huge wash of hot cum. I almost choked on it and tried to struggle my way free, but he just held me there and a few seconds later another burst arrived. A third followed soon after with a final, exhausted jolt and he slowly relaxed his grip.
As I swallowed all that was left, he pulled up a chair in front of me and found a cigarette on the table by the wall. He lit it and sat down, smoking it as he calmed down - staring at the sight of me hanging upside-down in front of him in a suit and straightjacket, licking the remains of his gism from my lips.
He smiled as he smoked and we gazed at each other in complete silence: him, probably enjoying his handiwork at total restraint - and me, worshipping him for every way he could use me as his rubber slave.
He put down the cigarette in an ashtray for a moment and slowly lowered my ankles to a position where he could safely undo the restraints. He pulled me up by the heavy, steel D-ring on the front of the straighjacket’s collar and dragged me over to the chair. He made me kneel between his legs and lick his sagging, juicy cock while he continued smoking, and with his free hand he ruffled and stroked my messy, wet hair.
After a while he moved me back onto the floor so that I lay on my back in front of the chair. It was a bit uncomfortable because of the tight strapping and buckles and padlocks down the back of the straightjacket but it still felt like a resting position. Alan zipped up his suit again and sat back down, prizing my legs apart with his waders. He lit another cigarette and sat there in complete silence watching me, grinding my crotch around with both his boots. I moaned and whimpered, looking up at him occasionally to see his satisfied grin beaming from beneath the hangman’s hood.
“You’ve had that suit on since last night, haven’t you slave?”
“Yes master.”
“Are you hot in it?”
“Yes master.”
“And messy?”
“Yes master.”
“Good. I want you to get used to feeling like that.”
He continued massaging my knob and balls with his waders for a while and then lifted up the radio-control device for the vibrator that was still strapped to me.
“I think it’s about time you messed up your suit a bit more…” he said, and pressed the button down as his waders played harder and harder with my tackle.
I grunted and groaned as my arse tighted and twitched on the vibrator. I couldn’t hold it any longer: my eyes shut, my whole body arched up from the floor and hot, painful gism shot up my belly.
After I had stopped groaning and settled down into a limp, rubber body on the dungeon floor again my master stood up and turned me over. As he slowly undid all the padlocks and straps he spoke to me.
“You can go to bed in your little box now. You’ll stay in the suit till tomorrow. And you can have a lie-in tomorrow morning ’cause I’ve got some workmen in: something I organised while I was out today. But I’ll come and get you up after they’ve gone and we’ll continue your training.”
It was only once the straightjacket was pulled off me that I noticed I was still stuck in the fist-mitts. Alan slowly and delicately unstrapped and removed the vibrator and zipped the arse of my suit back up.
“Bet your arse is sore, isn’t it slave?” he asked.
“Yes master.”
“Good. I’m going to train it to take me anytime, so it’ll probably be sore a lot more times over the coming weeks. Now, let’s put you to bed…”
He made me crawl on the floor behind him as he walked over to the wooden box and opened it up. I stepped into it and laid my head on the rubber pillow.
“Sweet dreams, my slave.” he said and closed the lid, leaving me in darkness.
“I love you…” I heard him say as he snapped shut the heavy padlocks on the lid of the box. Even after all that exertion and coming-off, I was hard again. I was also drenched in sweat and cum inside my suit and my hair reeked of my master’s piss.
It was going to be another long night.
Part 4
I found it difficult to sleep that night. Not surprising given the heat inside the box and the mess of juices that seeped around me in my suit. All the places where Alan had thrashed me so hard - my cock and balls, my buttocks, my back and my tits - were hot and sore, and the inside of my arse ached after having had the vibrator up it for so long. Even my arms still ached from the time they’d spent so tightly strapped up in the straightjacket. All I could smell in the confines of this tiny, secure cell was rubber, sweat and piss.
I was exhausted though, and after a few hours desperately trying to get comfortable - shifting around in a mess of gism - I finally fell asleep.
I was woken (I don’t know how much later on) by the sounds of metal clanking, voices which I couldn’t make out, and much banging and drilling. I stayed perfectly still and silent - partly for wanting to hear what was going on and partly because I felt I’d be so embarassed if anybody knew I was shut away in the padlocked trunk in the corner.
After some time the noises stopped and I heard the sets of footsteps disappearing. All went quiet again.
But now my cock was really hard: whatever they were doing had something to do with Alan’s complete transformation of me - it must be something to do with torturing me, degrading me, humiliating me and reducing me to the anonymous, rubber nobody he wanted to serve him.
I waited again, wide awake, excited and frightened, for ages and ages.
Eventually I heard the sound of my master’s rubber riding boots coming down the steps and over to the box that I lay in. He undid the padlocks and lifted up the heavy wooden lid.
“Sit up, slave.” he said.
I sat up as he crouched in front of me in his shiny rubber biker jacket and jeans, but I was unable to see whatever had been assembled earlier and was hidden behind him. He handed me a big plastic bottle full of water.
“Drink all of that water, slave…” he said sternly.
I fumbled with the bottle in my slippery fist-mitts and swigged it all back over a period of minutes while he looked at me, smiled and stroked my hair occasionally.
“It’s time for a real endurance test, slave…” he said to me, “so you can prove just how much you want this life - so you can prove to me that you’ve got what it takes to actually live it for real.”
The words frightened me: this sounded even more serious than all the hurt and degradation he’d put me through so far. Even so, my cock reared up at the thought of being so completely in his power and being pushed to the limits by him.
“Stand up and follow me.” he said and walked away from me. I got out of the box and crawled behind him to a long metal table that had been fixed to the floor. He turned and saw me at his boots.
“Good slave… you’re learning to behave like my rubberman should.”
He roughly grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. As he unstrapped and pulled off my fist-mitts I looked at the table. It had a rubber pillow attatched to it and was clearly designed to lay down on, about fifteen sets of straps coming out of it to secure legs, arms, torso and neck onto its shiny metallic surface.
Alan walked off behind me with the fist-mitts and returned with a heavy-duty rubber dry-suit. It had feet and gloves and a hood with a gas-mask in it. There was only a dry-zip across the back of the shoulders to enter it through.
“Get into this, slave.” he said, handing the suit to me. I desperately wanted him to let me out of the hot, messy tight suit I’d been in for well over a day now, but I knew that if I so much as sounded like I was complaining I’d get a thrashing twice as hard as the one he’d given me yesterday as a ‘lesson’.
The rubber was thick and heavy and I struggled into it feet first, then my body, then feeding my arms down into the gloves and finally - with a lot of effort and perspiration - forcing my head up into the claustrophobic hood. A small tube protruded in from the front of the gas-mask and settled in my mouth. Alan began to pull the dry-zip shut across my back, making the hot, heavy suit tighten a bit on me and soon I was completely isolated in the suit listening to the deep, strange rasping sounds that my breath made as it was sucked in and blown out of the respirator.
He got me to sit on the table and then laid me out and fastened the straps all over me - ankles, lower and upper thigh, belly, upper chest, neck, wrists and elbows - until I was completely immobile on my back with my head resting on the pillow. My breathing became faster and more shallow as I realised how utterly helpless I now was: he could do anything to me - he could even walk off and leave me to die in this gear if he wanted… I had to just completely surrender to him and trust him, knowing that he loved me.
Alan, I thought to myself as I looked at him standing over me, I love you - I love you - I love you.
He fixed one end of a piece of tubing into a socket on the outside of the gas-mask and screwed the other end onto a large, transparent plastic drinking bottle full of pale yellow piss and held it in front of me.
“Over the next few days you’re going to lay there being fed nothing but my piss… I’ll come down and top up the bottle for you quite often. But you’re going to stay there, sealed up in all that lovely rubber, fixed to the bed until I’m happy that every inch of your insides - from your throat to your cock - is filled to bursting with my piss, and that your dry-suit is completely filled with your piss - made from mine. Think of it as a kind of transfusion, slave: me making sure that you contain nothing but my juices to help make you my rubberman. Does that turn you on slave?”
“Yes master.” I said in a muffled voice through the gas-mask.
He smiled and fastened the bottle up into a holder that hung nearby from one of the chains that held the sling. The piss slowly ran down the tube towards my hood.
“When you want to drink, you just suck on the tube inside your mask. Try it…”
I sucked on the tube and urine filled my mouth. It was bitter and cold - I still didn’t like the taste - but I was going to have to drink a lot of it before my master would release me from this rubber bondage.
“I’ll be back in a few hours with another bottle.” he said, and he leant over and kissed my gas-mask before walking off up the steps and locking the cellar door behind him.
I just lay there for hour after hour, occasionally shifting as far as the tight restraints would let me and looked up through the slightly misted eyes of my gas-mask at the bottle of piss that hung by me and the tube that let it into my hood. I drank - sometimes sipping, sometimes in long gulps - trying not to taste the bitter liquid too much. Then I drank more, trying hard to like the taste because it was my master’s and because I might as well at least get used to it given that he wanted to keep me suited up and filled with it for days.
I was certainly thirsty - the close, wet heat inside the heavy suit and the hot, sticky mess inside my tight suit making me uncomfortably hot. Soon the bottle-full of water that Alan had fed to me before suiting me up was ready to come out of me. My body twitched and squirmed in all the strapping and I grunted into the steamy gas-mask as my cock let it go and a vast, warm gushing filled my suit. It raced up my front and spilled down my sides and off down my legs, and soon I could feel some of it in the outer suit - clammy streams of it having seeped through the zip and begun to settle in the back of the dry-suit.
There was still about a quarter of pint of the urine left in the bottle when Alan returned with another bottle-full. I looked up at him lovingly but he just stared at me coldly, grabbed my mask and pointed me towards the remains in the bottle hanging from the sling chains. He said nothing but I knew what I had to do. I gulped on the tube and swallowed the stuff down in mouthful after mouthful of tepid bitterness. Only when I had drunk it all did he let go of my head and I let it rest back on the pillow again. He simply took off the old bottle, screwed the new one onto the end of the tube, hung it up and left me again without even a word.
I needed to urinate again and, with my limbs writhing in the straps, let my bladder go. More warm liquid flushed through my suit, all over me - sticking to me, filling the gas-mask with its rancid smell - and more still flowed out into the dry-suit. There was now a squelching sound whenever I made the slightest movement (which was all the movement I could make anyway, I was so tightly strapped down) and with the hot, wet, stinking air filling the tiny space inside my hood I began to cry.
What had I done? Could I really stand being sealed up inside this hot, filthy mess for days - unable even to move? What had I done to let him do this to me? I felt so degraded - and so perverted for having wanted this. I cried and cried, wanting for it all to be over.
I hadn’t noticed him come back into the dungeon but suddenly there he stood over my pathetic, piss-soaked body - his biker jacket and the rubber t-shirt beneath it gleamed and he just stood still, staring deep into my tear-filled eyes. I couldn’t help wondering what I looked like to him then? This rubber-clad body, strapped down on his torture table, snivelling and crying inside the thick industrial rubber of the hood with just my crying eyes visible inside the eye-pieces of the gas-mask - now dripping with the condensation of breath, sweat and piss.
And then he did something that for some reason made me love him like a god: he didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to comfort me or calm me, but just held my head again and pointed to the half-pint or so of his golden urine that still hung in the bottle above me.
He knew exactly what was going through my mind and was telling me that there was no going back - that I was already controlled by him and that I must simply carry on being transformed by him.
Through my blubbering I gulped and gulped at the piss, thinking ‘I love you - I love you’ as it went down my throat. As I sucked noisily on the tube to get the last of it, he pushed my head back onto the pillow and changed the bottles once more. Again he left without a word.
I felt elated by what he’d done - happy that tears meant nothing to him and that he was going to finish what I’d started, going to make me learn to take any amount of pain, discomfort or degradation to please him. As I began to understand that I no longer controlled my own body, no longer satisfied my own will but only his, I cried again. But tears of joy this time: I was his - and I would be his rubberman. There was no going back.
So I began to drink greedily at the piss, willing myself to love it in my mouth and in my throat. I deliberately made myself urinate again into the suit, almost laughing with pleasure as it streamed over me.
I wanted to drink more of his urine so that, like Alan had said, it would be like a transfusion and I would be filled with his piss from my throat to my cock. I would be a vessel for his waste and I would love it.
The hours did indeed turn into days and - as my master had said - I was kept strapped down on the table and had my slave body emptied of everything that was mine and had it replaced with my master’s piss. I could taste it permanently in my mouth. I could breathe it in the gas-mask. I could see it in the bottle that hung over me and I could feel it filling my bladder and my insides - as well as the growing pool of it inside the dry-suit that constantly swilled around me.
I could seem to feel it everywhere inside the suit - all down the legs, pressing on my sides, down the back of my arms, underneath me… everywhere.
I ached from the straps all over me, I’d never been so completely degraded in my life, and with every breath I could smell and taste the mess that swam all over me. I was so tired (it must have been over three days now that I’d endured this torture) and yet I was ecstatic.
Nobody else in the world could possibly know what it felt like to have the man you love put you through this. I laughed to myself, deleriously happy at the transformation Alan was working on me. I didn’t even want to cum off - I was just so happy to be here, being treated like this by my master and lover.
There was certainly no way I could sleep in all that mess and discomfort so I felt absolutely exhausted and part of me wanted to be let out - if only to get some sleep. Another part of me, though, wanted nothing more than to stay in this gear forever, feeding from my master.
I finished the last of the piss in the bottle and waited for Alan to return with another. When he did finally appear by the torture table though, he was not alone.
He wore his biker jacket and t-shirt - but with a rubber hangmans hood this time, and next to him stood someone completely encased in rubber. He wore a suit and tight gloves that went above his elbows and his head was covered by a tight hood with a collar, a zip mouth that was open, and pin-prick eyes so that he was totally anonymous.
Alan had attatched a leash to the other man’s collar and had the other end of it wrapped round his knuckles and his wrist.
“How long have you kept him like that?” asked the man on the leash.
“Very nearly four days now.”
“With only water?” asked the other man, nodding at the bottle.
“With only my piss.” replied Alan.
I could almost see the other man shudder.
“Wow… fuckin’ horny.” he said.
Alan smiled and nodded, looking into my eyes.
“What are we going to do with him?” asked the man on the leash.
“There are a few options…” said my master, “Firstly we can give him another bottle or two of piss and keep the torture going a while longer… Secondly we can unstrap him but not let him out of the suit till he’s cleaned a load of rubbers and sex-gear for us… Thirdly we can unstrap him, undo his hood, piss on him and make him blow the both of us off while we think of something to do afterwards… or fourthly you can take him to the shower, get him out of all his gear, clean him up and dress him in something you like - and then we can play with him…”
My cock was suddenly hard as fuck and shifted around inside the sodden mess of my suit. My breathing became quick and shallow in anticipation. Both of them looked at me through the dripping eye-pieces in the gas-mask as they heard my breath rattling and rasping through the respirator.
“Well…” Alan asked him, “which do you want to do?”
Part 5
“I think we should have him blow us off before he gets out of all that gear.” said the hooded man on the end of Alan’s leash.
My heart was pumping really fast as I waited for them to unstrap me.
“Okay…” said Alan and directed the rubber guy to come round the other side of me. One by one the straps were unbuckled and my body loosened up slightly, the tepid urine swilling around inside my dry-suit.
Alan unfixed the tube from my gas-mask, pushed me up into a sitting position and pulled my legs off the side of the table and all the piss poured down into the legs of the suit with a muffled splashing noise.
He stood me up and walked my unsteady, exhausted body into an open space away from the table.
“Kneel down, slave…” he said. I did and again the piss sloshed around in the hot, heavy rubbers. Alan unzipped his jeans and pulled out his semi-hard cock. He motioned for the rubber guy to undo the brass zip across my shoulders. As the stiff zip opened, I could feel cool air at last.
“Take the hood off, slave.”
I struggled to pull the tight, thick rubber over my soaking head, and eventually was knelt there with my pathetic, dishevilled head and neck poking out of the opening on the back of the dry-suit.
“You really reek of piss, slave…” he said, “but you’ve done well.”
He shook his cock and strained slightly, letting out a shower of his urine over me. It streamed through my hair, splashed over my face - I swallowed as much as I could to prove I could take more if he wanted - and it splattered and ran all over the suit and onto the floor.
I stayed there, knelt in the puddle as he shook his cock to spurt a couple of final jets into my face.
“Play with my tits…” he said to the rubber guy, who immediately pulled open Alan’s biker jacket and started rubbing and tweaking my master’s beautiful bare nipples with his shiny, gloved hands.
Alan groaned his approval as he started to wank himself off, his cock hardening inches away from my face. His flesh looked beautiful against the shiny black jeans and as he wanked harder and faster he commanded the man in the hood to play harder with his tits.
My master was recogniseable from his eyes, sparkling inside the hangman’s hood and his cheekbones, mouth and chin but the other man was so completely faceless - and I was dying to know what he looked like under his second, sweaty rubber skin. I’d noticed he wore waders, which I’d not been able to see when I was strapped to the table.
“Get on my cock, slave…” he said frantically and I opened wide and gulped his swollen shaft down into the back of my mouth.
As he kept wanking he suddenly grunted a massive “Aagh!” and filled my mouth with spunk. It tasted hot and almost sweet and I sucked desperately again and again to get every last drop out of him.
He pulled his cock from my mouth,played with it for a while as he smiled at me and then slowly zipped it back into his jeans.
“Good slave. Now you can suck him off. Just wait a moment though…”
He went over to some hooks on the wall that had masses of restraints and chains and toys hanging off them and returned with a pair of handcuffs, fixing the rubber guy’s hands behind his back. As I moved my face towards the crotch of his suit, Alan unzipped it for me and a long, hard cock - encased in a rubber sheath that also covered his balls - swung out in front of me.
Alan was stood behind him and zipped up the mouth of the man’s hood. Then he reached around his chest and began fondling the man’s tits through his suit. The guy began moaning and his head leant back as he struggled slightly in Alan’s grip.
“Okay, slave, suck him off.”
I closed my mouth around the rubber member and sucked and played with it as he struggled and shook, making muffled groans through his hood. Still sucking hard, I managed to raise my eyes up enough to catch a glimpse of Alan’s partly masked face by the man’s shoulder. He was gritting his teeth and viciously ripping at the suit around the guy’s tits. The groaning was getting louder and becoming almost like vocal spasms that accompanied the shuddering of his black, shiny body.
The sheath moved easily in my mouth, smooth and soaked with my saliva that just kept on filling my mouth at the sexy taste of the rubber.
Then the groans begame a long series of loud agonised grunts about a second apart and his cock finally jolted several times while he made a long, high-pitched moan. The feeling of the sheath suddenly went strangely sloppy around his hard cock and I knew there was a mass of cum washing around inside it. Gradually as I continued to play with it in my mouth - tasting only the rubber (it was strange not to have a mouthful of gism at a time like this) his cock began to soften.
After a few moments I pulled my head away from it and looked up.
Alan still played with the guy’s tits, but softly now and slowly, sometimes just gently rubbing his hands across them. The man’s head hung down and the anonymous hood let out slow breathing sounds.
With my hand still stuck in the glove of the dry-suit I wiped my sweaty, piss-soaked face.
Alan let go of the hooded guy’s tits and put his sheathed cock back into his suit for him and left him stood there with his hands cuffed-up behind his back.
“Good slave…” he said, smiling down at me, “You didn’t think I’d pollute my rubberman’s body with someone else’s spunk, did you?”
No, he wanted me full of his spunk, his piss, his sweat - not anybody else’s.
“Now go and have a really long shower, wash the rubbers out and hang them up, dry yourself off and come and sit on the bed.”
I crawled over to the large shower cubicle (in area it was probably as big as a large, square bath) and set the shower going on full power.
I stayed basically knelt down as I gradually struggled out of the two rubber suits. Floods of yellowy piss poured from the dry suit and a huge cloudy mess of piss and cum came out of the inner suit (the zip down its back took ages to undo by myself). I painstakingly washed out the suits as my master had commanded, getting constantly turned on by feeling the heavy, wet rubber in my hands, and then I doused myself in shower gel and scrubbed myself down several times: I really did stink completely of Alan’s and my piss. When I was done, I hung the suits up outside the cubicle to dry off and towelled myself down.
I couldn’t stop myself from dribbling pre-cum though: four days in total enclosure without a wank and then blowing off Alan and the rubber guy - it was hardly surprising really.
I wiped it off the end of my cock, hung up the towel and got on my knees to crawl round to the bed.
They were both laid back on the rubber sheets: the rubber guy was nearest, without his waders now and no longer handcuffed, but Alan on the far side still in his hangmans hood, jacket, jeans and boots.
“Come and lay between us, slave.” said Alan.
I got up and settled my naked body down between them. I laid on my back with my hands by my side, but turned my head over to look straight into Alan’s face. He smiled at me and moved the fingers of one of his gloved hands in and out of my mouth till my cock was almost flat back on my stomach ’cause it was so hard. He moved his hand away and turned my head to face the blank hood of the other guy.
“This is Tom, slave. I’ve borrowed him from his master to help me with your training. To you he is another master and tormentor and you will address him as ‘Tom sir’… understand?”
“Yes master.”
“Say hello to him then, slave…”
“Hello, Tom sir.” I said obediently.
The hood turned to me and nodded.
“Right…” said Alan, “after four days, I’d say you’re due for a wank before your training resumes. So play with yourself.”
I began wanking and as I did so, they both closed in on me, virtually covering my nakedness with their rubber bodies. The feeling was amazing as they slid up and down against me and I was soon in absolute ecstacy as Alan moved one gloved hand over my mouth and the other down to my crotch to make a tight grip behind my bollocks, and Tom put one arm around behind my head and used both hands to play gently with my nipples. I writhed on the rubber sheets as each of them pressed me down with their bodies and by wrapping their legs over mine and each of them nuzzled their hoods into the sides of my face, with Alan whispering, “I want to see you come off, slave.”
I let out a huge whimper when I shot my load moments later, half a dozen spurts of cum jolted out of my aching cock and up my chest. As I slumped back exhausted, Alan kissed me long and hard on the neck.
“Good slave…” he said and lay back, putting his arm around me.
“Feed it to him.” he said to Tom, who crouched over me and wiped up the gism in his gloves and put them to my mouth where I licked them clean, taking some of the fingers to the back of my throat to suck the cum off them.
Alan turned my body into his, curled me up a bit and pulled his jacket over my head. In the warm darkness of his rubbers I gently sucked and licked his nipples.
“That’s right…” he said, “you just do that and rest for a while.”
Tom moved in behind me - I could feel a hard-on encased in his suit as he lay with his front against my back and for an hour or two we all just lay there: two rubber guys and their naked, adoring slave totally cocooned in them.
“Kneel up, slave…” said Alan eventually, sitting up on the bed beside me. I did so and he pressed my face down onto his boots. I began licking them: the toes, the heel and way up the tall calf of each of them while he sat there smoking a cigarette and smiling at my utter devotion to my master’s boots. After a while he pulled his cock from the shiny, rippling crotch of his jeans and dragged Tom’s hand over to it. Tom started to slowly wank it for him and he continued to smoke, looking back and forth at each of us.
He took Tom’s hand off his cock after a few minutes and pushed him onto his back. Then he pulled my face from his riding boots and said, “Right slave, I want you to lay on top of him and set about rubbing yourself off.”
I knelt over Tom’s completely rubbered-up body, spread my legs open and settled down onto his suit. Straightaway my rigid cock began to ooze pre-cum out onto the warm rubber and as I lay on him, my face close to the zipped-up mouth and pin-prick eyes of his hood.
I started to pump my body up and down on his smooth, sleek rubbers and felt his arms come round my back, his rubber gloves tingling as they ran along my spine. Soon they were moved aside and my master’s well-lubricated cock began forcing itself up my crack as I plunged back and forth on the shiny, black figure beneath me. Soon my beautiful, fantastic master’s rubber-clad body was seemingly clamped to mine as we fucked in unison. Great moans came from inside Tom’s tight hood and his body stiffened and jotled as he came off once more into his sheath. His arms flew around my neck and pressed me into him as I shuddered, my climax coming ever-closer.
Then Alan came inside me - I felt a long, warm stream of his spunk settle in my arse. He lifted himself off me and I stopped my fucking to allow him to pull out.
“Okay, that’s enough slave…” he said, being deliberately cruel and pulled me away from Tom who lay with his rubber torso smeared in trails of my pre-cum and droplets of sweat.
“Lick that up, slave…” said Alan, pointing to the mess and I did so, Tom stroking my head while I drank it all back up.
When I finished, my master laid a rubber sleepsack out on the bed. It had sleeves inside it to restrain the arms, a hood on it which featured only a small zip-mouth and a few tiny holes in the nostrils, and a three-way zipper that ran down the back from the top of the hood to the ankles.
“You didn’t know about this but I’ve had this made-to-measure to fit my rubber slave perfectly, for total rubber confinement and chastity.” he said, making sure it was fully opened up for me to get into.
My cock and balls ached with the anticipation of orgasm and a long strand of pre-cum hung from the end of my sore member.
“Lay face down in it, slave.”
I lay in it with my feet together and my face in the hood while Alan manoeuvred my arms into the restraint sleeves by my sides. Then the zipping-up began. Tom closed one zip from my feet upwards and I could feel the perfect form-fitting slickness of the rubber as my legs were swallowed up in it. Alan meanwhile worked from the other end, zipping the rubber tightly down over my head and neck - sexy, sadistic bastard, it really was skintight all over - and before long the zips met somewhere in the small of my back.
“Pass me that padlock…” I could hear Alan saying. Shortly afterwards a metallic clicking sound told me I was completely imprisoned in the rubber.
I could see nothing and my hearing was a fair bit muffled. Sexiest and yet most frightening of all was the utter claustrophobia it induced. Its rubber clung almost unbearably tightly to my skin - all over my body - as if it were part of me somehow. My hot breath moved clumsily through the zip-mouth and the tiny nostril holes. I felt them rolling me over onto my back. It occured to me that I loved my master the most whenever he made me most helpless - here I was completely physically and mentally controlled by him and I worshipped him for it. Keep me in here forever, I thought (knowing full well how much the total enclosure frightened me at the same time), yeah - forever - and I’ll just live on your spunk.
I felt their hands moving across the sleepsack, deliberately settling on my genitals and tits, on my face and head as they tormented me for what seemed like an age. I suffered in silence in my confinement, shuddering with pleasure and breathing erratically as they moved me into ecstacy.
The mouth was unzipped - it was exactly the width of my own mouth and in exactly the right place - and my master began kissing me more and more passionately, forcing his tongue back towards my throat and filling my mouth with his saliva.
“You’ll spend the night in this sleepsack, slave. And maybe I’ll let you come off in the morning. You see you aren’t only going to learn about being fucked in rubber, or being humilated in it, degraded or tormented in it by your master… When you are my rubberman, you will spend most of your life in complete bondage. No torture, no degradation. Just bondage: being kept trussed up in whatever I desire, waiting to serve me. And that’s what this is about, so forget about your hard-on and concentrate on thinking about me all night, worshipping me for keeping you in this, and praying that I will keep you as my slave forever. Understand?”
“Yes master.”
“Do you love me?”
“More than anything, master.”
Once more he kissed me long and hard and his and Tom’s hands moved over every inch of the sleepsack.
“Goodnight slave” he said.
“Goodnight master. Goodnight Tom sir.” I replied, suddenly thinking I might be punished if I forgot Tom.
The zip was pulled shut across my mouth and all was total darkness and silence apart from the sound of my own warm breath condensing on the inside of the hood and the shimmering sound of the rubber clinging and moving on me.
For a while, I tried struggling, hoping to make myself more comfortable, but it was no use - I just got hotter, and after some time settled down, feeling strangely happy in my imprisonment. I thought about my master as he had told me to - getting a huge hard-on again as I dreamed of him keeping me in gear like this all the time, of being sealed up in rubber for his sadistic amusement and of only being released or partially released so that I could service his cock, worship him as my god and be tortured by him. I drifted off into a horny, sweaty, constricted sleep.
I was awake and thinking much the same thoughts when I heard approaching footsteps and felt the undoing of the mouth zip.
“Breakfast in bed…” said Alan as his hard-on moved into the hood and filled my mouth. I sucked on it as he plunged it deep into me and then virtually pulled it out again in long, drawn-out movements that were accompanied by faint moans of pleasure. My utterly restrained body shifted passively on his beautiful cock and I prayed for him to fill me with his gism. He did… a hot mouthful of the stuff that I swilled around his shaft while he let his hard-on die down inside my mouth.
“Good slave.” he said and did the zip back up, leaving me in my isolation again.
Hours passed and I lay sweating, virtually rigid in my rubber prison - turned on almost to the point of orgasm and totally unable to do anything about it. I daren’t try rubbing myself off against the rubber sheets in case he or Tom was watching and might punish me, so I just lay there praying for him to let me come off soon.
More hours passed and there was no release for my throbbing cock which smeared pre-cum all over my stomach and the inside of the sleepsack. I was on the point of tears, I was so frustrated. But I took control of myself. Alan had said that it was not about satisfying my cock, but about being in bondage to him. I began to think of the satisfaction he’d get, seeing me stuck in the skintight latex, knowing how long I’d been in it and getting turned on by my total helplessness and by his total onwership and control. Soon that became enough to keep me happy - that would be all I needed.
I was learning.
Footsteps approached again and once more the mouth was unzipped. This time it was the sheathed member that filled my mouth. So he wanted me to blow Tom off again? …fine. I sucked on it and played with it for all I was worth - they were both my masters and I was their slave, and I wanted nothing more than to be serving them in whatever pervy way they wanted. and this was pervy: not only was I tightly covered in slick, black rubber - it now completely filled my mouth too.
Suddenly I was being turned over onto my front… hands kept my mouth around the rubber hard-on and above the crinkling and shifting of our rubbers, I could hear the padlock on my back being undone. The zips were moved a bit until I could sense a small gap over my crack and another sheathed cock - this one well lubricated - settled deep into my arse. I just lay there, hunched and helpless as they both fucked me. Now every orifice was filled with rubber as well as my whole body being encased in it… Fucking horny rubber sex. I tried to block out the pain of Alan’s cock pumping in and out of my crack by imagining them both head to toe in rubber, fucking the rubber slave slumped between them.
It was just too much and my muscles clenched round my master’s cock as I shot my load up my stomach. It was an intense orgasm which shot through me like an electric shock, throwing my neves into some kind of spasm and making my whole body shake uncontrollably. I think both of them must have come off about the same time because when I came to my senses again they were both slowing down to a stop and rubbing me all over as the cock was pulled out of my crack. I was still whimpering when I got the biggest shock.
“How did you like having Tom fuck your arse then, slave?” asked Alan, once the cock had pulled out of my mouth.
Sly bastard. Sly, cruel, wonderful bastard.
He was playing mind games with me so that I didn’t even know who was doing what to me any more. The thought of him (of them) having that much power just turned me on even more and I was hard again in no time. They did up the zips again, padlocked the one over my arse and left me confused, claustrophobic and shuddering with excitement and pleasure as I continued to dribble pre-cum into my rubbers.
They didn’t actually go away this time though. I could hear them near me on the bed. I could hear their rubbers, their zips, their grunts and groans as they fooled around with each other. Their movements vibrated through the bed and through the rubber sheets and into my sleepsack. I couldn’t tell what they were doing, but I could tell it was fun. Occasionally I heard cuffs being snapped shut or adjusted or opened, and chains clanking and rattling. I don’t think I’ll ever know what they were doing. That was the point though: Alan wanted me to be stuck there wondering, having no choice or say in what he was doing.
More than that, I realised that he’d got me to be fucked - face and arse - by someone whose face I hadn’t even seen yet. Now that’s power.
I lay there in my tight, clinging rubber cocoon as they played roughly with each other (or rather, Alan probably played roughly with Tom) next to me on the bed. It went on for what must have been well over an hour, turning me on completely again knowing that I had to just remain completely passive, completely in slavery, locked in the rubber sleepsack till Alan decided to use me again.
After a hell of a long time of them playing together, he did.
“It’s really me this time slave…” he said unzipping my mouth, “Taste me. Taste your master’s cock.” and shoved his hard-on straight into my throat. It tasted of cum and pre-cum and of rubbery sweat. It tasted of my master. It tasted beautiful. I rolled it around with my tongue and sucked on it while he pushed my head onto it and thrust it in and out of my throat. It shot a load of hot spunk into me and I swilled it round in my mouth, worshipping my master’s cock still, with my tongue playing gently with his foreskin for ages.
“Good slave…” he said as he zipped the mouth back up, “now get some rest for an hour or so ’cause we’ve got some serious torture lined up. You’re going to be taken to the limit.” He stroked my head as he spoke and I knew it would be impossible to love anybody more than I loved him, whatever he might do to me. Who knows, maybe because of what he might do to me?
I heard him and Tom leave me and I did my best to doze off, but it was too hot and sticky inside the sleepsack. I was too turned on. Too frightened. Too excited and too in love to sleep.
Part 6
The padlock was taken off and the zips were finally undone, and the sleepsack - dripping with sweat - was prized off me.
My naked, tired body was lifted out of it by two identical figures.
Each wore a full rubber suit with tight gloves up to their elbows, and they each wore waders. Not only that but they wore identical motorcycle helmets. Black, futuristic-looking ones with a kind of grille across the front of a nozzle-like nose and mouth section. The visor of each helmet was reflecting silver.
One was my master and one, presumably, was Tom (I guess I couldn’t even really be sure of that…). they were similarly built and of similar height too. This must be Alan’s idea of a pervy torturer’s outfit: it sure as hell did the trick for me I thought, as my cock swung up against my stomach.
They said nothing. They didn’t even motion to each other. One moved the sleepsack away and the other handed me a pair of rubber shorts and a tube of KY. The shorts had a smallish butt-plug in them and a pumping tube hanging out of the back. I squeezed out some KY and pushed it into my crack. I pulled on the shorts, making sure the buttplug went up me. The figure started pumping the tube and the plug swelled inside my arse, filling my cavity, pressing up against my prostrate - causing me to close my eyes and groan. Satisfied that it was firmly in place the figure took me over to the sling and laid me back in it. As he padlocked my ankles into the restraints that hung from the chains, the other identical figure padlocked my arms into wrist restraints that hung from the chains above my head. My stomach was strapped in too and I was soon immobile. Then while one of my torturers looked on, the other fixed a thick rubber head harness onto me. It had stud fastenings around the eyes and mouth for various blindfolds, gags and so forth but for now they left the mouth and eyes open.
I gazed out at them as they stood by me, gently rubbing my bare skin with their gloves. God they looked sinister. Beautifully sinister. So mean and - for some reason, probably to do with looking anonymous and powerful in their headgear - so pervy and sexy, like they were intent on just experimenting on me, seeping gism into their suits while they did what they wanted to me, and while I couldn’t even be allowed to see their pleasure.
A massive hard-on pressed against the inside of my shorts because of how much they turned me on in their gear, but at the same time I was incredibly frightened by the thought of what pain they might put me thorugh. I wondered what it would be like to be inside one of those helmets, in its hot, confining space, with it pressing in all over the head. They would watch my suffering from inside their imposing, frightening visors - and I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other.
One of them pressed my backside and I shifted slightly, groaning as the butt-plug pushed deep into me. Then he unzipped the front of the shorts and gently pulled out my erection, while the other one pressed a mouthpiece into the stud fastenings on my head harness. The mouthpiece had an inflatable gag on the inside of it and I started to breathe slowly and deeply through my nose - trying to calm myself from the prospect of their torture - as he pumped up the gag to fill my mouth.
When they were both done they just stood and looked at me, bound up, silenced - filled - and ready to play with.
My heart was full with equal amounts of love and fear as I waited - forever it seemed - for them to begin. Making me suffer the dread of anticipation was clearly part of their plans.
Eventually the one nearest my cock snapped both ends of a set of handcuffs round the back of my cock and balls, tightening it as far as it would go. Then he started to tie thin leather cords all around the top of my scrotum, forcing my aching balls furhter and further down into a shiny, taut balloon of stretched skin. The other guy was busy working on my tits with his rubber gloves, rubbing them, gently pulling them and pinching them and twisting them. That felt quite pleasurable, but the work down below was beginning to hurt as my balls felt hot and sore and my engorged cock throbbed in front of the cold steel and the tight, unforgiving grip of the handcuffs. Then he started to tie more cords around just in front of the cuffs, intensifying the pain, the constriction, and the heat. That pain was overtaken by the sudden application of a pair of viciously tight tit-clamps. They were held together on a chain which lay on my chest, its cold metal contrasting with the heat of the sudden soreness in my nipples. I began to gasp erratic sighs of pain into the gag, where they were muffled so that my masters could carry on their work uninterrupted.
As the guy that was working on my tits slowly raised and lowered the chain, pulling my tender nipples away from me in washes of agony, the man at my crotch was beginning to tie cord up round half of the length of my rigid, red cock. I didn’t know where the pain was worse.
For a while they stopped and just watched me again as I moaned and pathetically struggled in my restraints, each move hurting through the devices they’d applied to my body. Then they both touched and rubbed me ever so gently with their soft, sleek, gloved hands in all the places where I wasn’t being tortured: my stomach, my sides, my legs and my arms and shoulders. There was a bizarre mix of the beautiful, gentle pleasure of the touching and the constant, numbing heat of the pain from the genital and tit torture.
After a while, they set to again and I tried to prepare myself for whatever they might do next.
Somewhere down by their boots they must have had a bucket of ice, as they both picked up large ice cubes and rubbed their cold, wet edges onto my tits and my cock and balls. It was almost too much and I screamed uselessly into the gag and began crying at the relentless agony that seared through my body like lightning. The man at my tits kept lifting and stretching the chain as he rubbed the ice onto my red, raw nipples. I struggled and squirmed as I cried, but they paid no heed to me as they continued to play with the unbelievably sore objects of their torture, running ice up and down my shaft, round the end of my cock and on the painful, stretched skin of my scrotum as well as around and onto my tits.
And yet I was so utterly turned on by the severe, rubber-clad figures that experimented on my helpless body: their skintight, shiny rubber suits, the soft touch of their gloves and the frighteningly sexy helmets with their metallic visors, looking down at me, working on me, taking me to the absolute threshold of what I could stand. Even though I could see that they both had massive erections swollen inside their suits, they seemed to move about and torture me as if they weren’t even slightly turned on - as if they were just doing this for he sole purpose of experimenting with my body. But their huge hard-ons said otherwise: they were loving every second of it.
I sighed and moaned pathetically into the stifling bulk of the inflated gag as I cried tears of agony and helplessness.
Then they each picked up a cat-and-nine-tails and began brushing my skin with them, the man at my cock pulling it across my knotted, stretched genitals and the guy at my tits dragging it across my entire chest and through the chain and clamps and the red, swollen nipples.
I shuddered with horror, more or less guessing what was coming next.
And I was right… Soon the strokes began, soft at first, but even then causing me to jolt in my restraints and grunt into the gag. They beat me everywhere: on my feet, legs, sides, shoulders and belly as well as my trussed-up nads, my aching cock and my clamped nipples. The blows became harder and faster - almost white hot with the intensity of the painful shocks they delivered, and I was soon screaming almost non-stop into the gag as pain was delivered onto pain and my suffering grew by the second. The two suited, helmeted figures stood there - faceless and emotionless as they flogged me through the pain barrier - and my body jolted and swung wildly in the sling as I screamed and cried into the gag that jammed my mouth.
It seemed like it might never end as I cried uselessly and my body was hurled around in the straps and restraints as the phenomenal beatings threw me to the left and right and sent my muscles bolting up into the stomach restraint. On and on it went, their beautiful rubbered figures whipping me into oblivion as I screamed and squirmed and flopped around in great spasms of agony from each new blow.
Eventually they stopped and for a while there was silence as they stood there, looking at me from inside their visors, beads of sweat falling from out of the bottom of their helmets onto the neck and shoulders of their suits. I continued to cry and shifted in the sling - as if I might somehow find some position which didn’t hurt so much. It was useless and they just stood there and let me cry for a while.
Then they reached down and picked up more ice and dipped their gloved hands in the freezing water.
My body went rigid as the hands touched me and began to apply ice and water to the red stripes that covered my body. I just whimpered - aware that I was somehow still fully erect - and shuddered as the wet, icy gloves moved softly over my flesh which felt like it was on fire.
I cried tears of love for my master - for stopping the beating, for being so tender - I worshipped him more than ever.
As I lay there, my arms and legs aching from the restraints and the rest of my body melting with the furious heat of my agony, I watched as the two torturers began playing with each other’s nipples. They became more and more frantic till they let go and grabbed each others backs and arses and rubbed themsleves off against each other, leaning their helmeted heads over each other’s shoulders as they hugged and pumped each other’s torsos.
It looked so beautiful - my two identical rubber torturers - locked in this hot, sweaty embrace. I wanted to be Tom and to have Alan doing that to me. I actually felt jealous. Even so my cock throbbed and moved about, hard and excited by what it saw.
They carried on for a while but didn’t seem to reach orgasm. When they finally stopped, they both walked off up the dungeon stairs and disappeared, turning the light off as they shut the door behind them.
I was left strapped up in the darkness for some time, the torture devices still attatched to my genitals and nipples.The pain became a numbing pain that was bearable so long as I stayed perfectly still. The butt-plug ached, still fully inflated inside my arse and the gag strained my jaws as I lay there.
When Alan returned, he switched on the lights again and walked down the steps, still in his suit and waders, but carrying both the helmets with him. He put them down on a table at the side of the dungeon and came over to me.
“Good slave…” he said, gently stroking my hair, “Good slave.”
I gazed up at him in total adoration, the pain almost disappearing as I did so.
“I’ll let you out of these devices once you’ve wanked yourself off for me.” he said as he released my arms from the padlocked restraints.
With my legs and stomach still strapped into the sling and the gag, butt-plug, nipple clamps and cords still in place, I began to play with myself. My cock was so tender and raw and my balls so tight and aching, but I worked harder and harder on my erection, gasping into the gag with a mixture of pain and pleasure I never knew existed. With a final agonising jolt, my cum sprayed up my chest and spurted out again and again as I screamed into the gag. I let go of my painful shaft and my arms fell limp by my sides. After a minute or two, Alan turned a knob on the pumping ball for the gag and it deflated. Then he pulled off the mouthpiece altogether and kissed me softly and lovingly through the head harness as he stroked my sore, striped shoulders and chest. I shuddered and whimpered as I kissed him back and let his tongue deep into my mouth. He pulled away and picked up my gism in his gloves and fed it to me, smiling as I gratefully gulped it down off his fingers.
“Right…” he said after a while, “let’s get the rest of this gear off you. Now be brave about it and I’ll reward you. Okay?”
I nodded and he slowly began to release the tit-clamps. I held my breath and gritted my teeth as they came off my skin with an electrifying stab of pain.
“Good slave…” he said and moved down to my crotch.
My lower body filled with washes of agony as he slowly undid the tight cords that encased my cock and balls and unlocked the handcuffs that squeezed my tackle out of my body. I lay still and silent, thinking only of how much I loved him to block out the hurting.
Finally he deflated the butt-plug.
“Good slave…” he said to me, smiling as he returned to stand near my face, “now how do you want me to reward you?”
I thought for a while, hoping it wasn’t some kind of trick question.
“I’d like you to put your helmet back on, dress me just like you, and for us to make love the way you and Tom were playing with each other just before he went. Please master, that’s all…”
“I think that’d be fun with you, slave…” he replied, “ but first you rest for a while. That was quite a session. Now take the shorts off and we’ll lie down for a while.”
I bent down a bit and struggled out of the shorts. When I looked up again, Alan had put his helmet back on. He came over to me and unfastened the head harness. I was now completely naked and he was completely rubbered up, his eyes hidden somewhere in the gleaming chrome of the visor. He held out his hand, and I fell to the floor and smothered it in kisses of devotion and worship. He walked off to the bed and lay down on the soft rubber sheet. I crawled on the floor behind him and got up onto the bed to lay on my back next to his warm, rubber-clad body. Silently he handed me a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit a ciggy and began to smoke, the slightly dizzying effect of it after such a heavy session relaxing me and soothing my pain.
As I smoked, Alan just lay there looking so powerful and sexy in his gear with me naked and vulnerable at his side. He nuzzled up to me, leaning his helmet right up against my face and ran the ends of his rubber fingers delicately over my skin. I shivered with pleasure as they tingled all over my body and looked at the blank chrome of his visor with absolute love. I even kissed the helmet - and kissed his gloves when they came near my face. When I’d finished the cigarette, he gathered me up against his gorgeous shiny body and hugged me. We just lay there for ages.
Eventually he got up and fetched a suit, some gloves and a tight rubber hood which he put on the bed beside me. I pulled on the suit (a one-piece with all-around zip) and the hood - it had eye and mouth holes - and then put on the gloves. While I was doing that, he brought over a pair of waders and I dutifully pulled them onto me as well, getting more turned on as I began to look more and more like my master. Then he brought over the spare helmet and as I sat obediently on the edge of the bed he placed it on my head and pulled it firmly into place, securing a strap tightly under my chin. It fitted very tightly and squeezed the hot rubber hood against my face and hair. My breath was warm and excited inside it and I noticed how heavy it was to wear compared to the hoods and masks I’d been used to.
Alan took my hands and lifted me off the bed and for a while we just looked each other up and down. Then we began to gently twist and pull on each other’s nipples - mine still incredibly sore after the torture in the sling. As we played, we just looked at each other - perfect rubber bodies full of sex - and our hard-ons grew in our suits. Then we began to grope each other all over and we closed the gap between us. I felt his hot suit against mine and we rubbed and hugged, our breaths getting shorter and more excited, and still without a single word. His cock rubbed mine again and again, and pre-cum began to seep into my rubbers. I sweated with the turn-on of our helmets leaning against each other as our embrace intensified. We played with each other’s arses as we caressed.
After a long time of doing this, Alan took me and pushed me back onto the bed again. He fumbled with my zips to open up a small area around my crack, and smeared some KY onto the gleaming wet shaft that he pulled from his suit. Before I knew it, he was inside me. I lay there in all my gear with my legs around his shoulders as he knelt over me and thrust his cock deep up my arse. He pumped away at me - my rubbered, helmeted master - as I lay there, playing with his tits like the slave I was.
As he got closer and closer to orgasm his thrusts went deeper and with more force and then he seemed to stop and pressed himself tightly against me and, with his helmet leaning down right in front of mine, let out a huge grunt. I felt the wave of hot gism bursting out of him and filling my arse.
He stayed there as a couple more smaller bursts followed, draining his juices into his slave’s willing body, and then he pulled out of me. He zipped his suit up again and moved the zips round on mine till he could get at my cock. Then he pulled it out and put one of my gloved fists round it as he lay down beside me. As I started to wank it off, he put an arm around the back of my neck and used both hands to play with my sore tits.
We must have looked so beautiful laid there on the bed together - shiny rubber creatures nuzzled together in our suits and helmets, one holding the other by his nipples as he wanked.
I shot my gism all up the front of the suit and fell back against the rubber pillow, absolutely exhausted. Alan wiped up my cum with some tissue, zipped my cock away and held me tightly to him as we rested, still in our full gear, wonderfully close, wonderfully warm and totally in love. I pushed my helmet in towards his chest - as if I were his pet (which I am, I suppose) and stroked him as he held me tight and rubbed the back of my suit and my buttocks. There was no sound but the breath coming out of our helmets and the occasional rustling of our suits or the creaking of our waders.
Otherwise it was silent. Silent and heavenly.
After a long time curled up in each other, Alan got up and pulled me up from the bed to stand with him. He started feeling me all over and pushed his helmet up against mine.
“Do you think this gear’s sexy then, slave?”
“Yes master.”
Sweat filled my tight rubber hood, the pressure of the equally tight, heavy helmet fixing it to my skin.
“In that case I think you ought to spend the night in it…” he said.
He walked off and came back with the strap-on vibrator and the straighjacket with all the padlocks on it. He knelt down, his waders creaking loudly in the perfect silence of the dungeon, and unzipped the arse of my suit. Then he put some KY on the vibrator, slowly pushed it deep into me and pulled the zips back around it, and then strapped it in place with its attatched crotch harness. I moaned slightly as it shifted inside me. Then he pulled up my arms and started to push my gloved hands deep into the thick rubber sleeves. He moved round behind me, zipped the straightjacket up tightly, and set to work on all the straps: the ones down the back, the ones between my legs and the ones that fastened the arms together and held them firmly in place. It took some minutes for him to do all the straps up and padlock them shut. The heat that came out of my suit welled up in the thick rubber of the straightjacket and was kept completely in as he locked its heavy collar up around the neck of my hood.
He stood in front of me for a moment, rubbing his cock through his suit and admiring his handiwork. His helmet came right up to mine again.
“You look really shaggable like that, slave…” he said, “How does it feel?”
“Amazing, master.” was all I could reply. It felt quite wonderful - a suit, gloves, hood, waders, that sexy helmet… and on top of all that a vibrator and a padlocked straighjacket. God, I felt really shaggable in it. I was hoping he was going to prove just how shaggable, but he didn’t fuck me. He just attatched a leash to a metal D-ring on the collar and walked me around the dungeon a few times, “…so you can feel the weight of all that rubber on you - and feel the vibrator moving inside you.”
After a while he put me in the cage and settled me down into a slumped heap on the floor - still with my waders on - and took off the leash. He knelt next to me, petting me by stroking the straighjacket and the helmet (and occasionally my hard cock).
“Goodnight slave.” he said suddenly.
“Goodnight master.” I replied.
He got up, locked the cage door shut and his beautiful, masterful figure in the suit, waders and helmet walked off up the dungeon steps. The door was bolted and the lights went out.
I lay there, slumped against the bars, my suit filled with sweat from the heat of the thick waders and heavy straighjacket and the layering of hood and helmet. I felt so tired - but there was no way I was going to get much sleep in this. Alan was probably showering himself off now and sleeping naked in a comfortable bed. But he was probably thinking of me.
Then suddenly I knew he was thinking of me - the vibrator buzzed into life. My whole body stiffened and tingled as I let a high-pitched moan into the stifling confines of the helmet. I shook, hot and sweaty, in my tight layers of rubber, and thick spurts of cum shot into my suit.
Part 7
I don’t think for one minute that my master meant me to get any sleep that night. He’d simply ordered me to “spend the night” in all that rubber gear - it was far too hot and uncomfortable to sleep in.
The helmet seemed to get heavier the longer it was on me and it pressed in relentlessly on the hood, squeezing sweat all over my face. The heat of it and my breath kept me wide awake and exhausted for hours on end. The thick, tight staightjacket and the waders soon had my suit swimming in sweat, cum and pre-cum and through the night it dribbled and streamed all over me. After quite a few hours the vibrator came on again (presumably Alan switched it on when he woke up) and once more my body writhed in tightly constrained, sweaty rubber ecstasy and another painful load of spunk shot into my suit. It kept vibrating long after I’d cum off and made me hard again almost straight away. Then the numb buzzing inside my arse stopped and I was left, squirming in my mess and in total darkness for another couple of hours.
Eventually the lights were switched on and I bent my head down against the stiff rubber collar of the straightjacket so that I could turn myself on by looking once again at the gear my master had kept me secured in for so long. I saw my wader-covered legs, my huge throbbing hard-on in my suit and the beautiful rubber of the straighjacket. When I looked up, my master stood at the cage door, looking in at me.
He was in his full “master’s” rubbers: biker jacket, jeans, boots, t-shirt and gloves. His face looked beautiful with all his piercings filled with studs and sleepers. Nobody in the world ever looked so beautiful and so severe - ever.
He unlocked the cage and knelt down by me, attatching a leash to the D-ring on the front of the straightjacket’s collar and walked me - I was actually stumbling pathetically on my knees behind him, clumsy and slow in the straightjacket and waders - over to a blank area of wall. He stood me up and took off the leash. Then he found some keys and unlocked the straps that ran between my legs and completed the straighjacket’s grip on my body. I soon realised he wasn’t undoing the jacket but merely accessing the strapped-on vibrator, which he delicately removed from my sore, throbbing backside. When he’d done this, he promptly re-fastened the straps and locked them shut again.
He leant me back against the wall and brought his face up next to my helmet as he roughly groped my hard-on.
“You know I said you looked really shaggable in that?”
“Yes master…” came my muffled reply.
“Well this is how shaggable…” and he spun me round and pushed my front up against the wall. He pulled open the zip of my suit around my arse and I felt his cock pressing into my muscles.
I squirmed and writhed in my tight, secure strapping and gasped and grunted into the solid dead weight of the helmet as he fucked me long and hard against the wall. His gloved hands held my shoulders firm while his gorgeous rubber-clad body - so masterful in the boots and jeans and jacket - thrust painfully in and out of me, Alan making noisy grunts every time he plunged his cock inside me.
Vast washes of tingling feelings filled my waders, shooting up and down my legs as he brought us both to orgasm at the same time - his whole body stiffening as he tightened his grip on me even more a second or two before he filled my arse with his beautiful hot spunk, and me jerking about helplessly as nerves exploded throughout my trussed-up form, my legs nearly giving way and cum spurting agonisingly into my suit as I squealed into the helmet.
We stood there exhausted - me leaning helplessly up against the wall, Alan leaning on me as he hugged me and rubbed me - slowly getting our breath back. I could feel sweat filling my suit as I stood there - shuddering occasionally as if in some kind of aftershock, Alan’s knob slowly softening inside me.
“Good slave…” he kept whispering at the side of my helmet.
“I love you master…” was all I could say.
Eventually he cleaned his cock up, put it back in his jeans and zipped the arse of my suit up. Then he dragged me down to the floor with him and pulled out some cigarettes. He smoked a couple and stroked me, sat back against the wall on the floor, with his slave curled up in silence in his lap.
After a while he moved me aside so he could get up. Then he helped me off the floor and walked me over to the bed, sitting me down on the edge of it. He unstrapped the helmet and pulled it away from the hood, and then he reached down into the collar of the straightjacket to get hold of the hood’s neck. It was a struggle but soon he’d managed to pull the hood off me and I sat there, still totally secured in the straighjacket but with my flushed face - streaming with sweat from my hair - able to breathe in the cool air at last. Alan slowly pulled the waders off me too, and manoeuvred my body onto the bed so that I was laying on my side, facing him.
“I’m going to have to keep you in the straightjacket to make sure you don’t play with yourself slave…” he said, “but you should be comfortable enough to sleep. I want you to get some rest for a few hours ‘cause we’re going out tonight.”
I nodded and lay my head on the rubber pillow as he kissed me and filled my mouth with his tongue, making me immediately hard again.
When the lights went out and the door was locked behind him, exhaustion came over me quickly and I was soon in a deep sleep that even the discomfort of all my rubbers couldn’t stop.
I felt so warm in them - I even felt really happy padlocked up in the thick, heavy straightjacket: there was something very comforting about being kept exactly where my master wanted me, even in what position he wanted me. I slept soundly in all my gism and sweat, my arms strapped tighly round my virtually immobile body, dreaming of my master.
When - some hours later - Alan returned in rubber chaps, riding boots, gloves, hangmans hood and a tit-flasher vest, he unlocked the straps on the straightjacket and gradually unbuckled them. He pulled it off me, leaving me stood before him in just a very messy suit and gloves.
“Get showered, get naked and get back here…” he said firmly.
I went to the shower cubicle and got out of the suit and gloves, cleaning myself thoroughly and drying myself off before crawling over to the sling - in which he lay, smoking a cigarette. His legs and boots dangled off the end of the sling - his cock dangling from between them - and his head rested on a leather strap that was joined to the sets of chains at the head-end.
“Stand up, slave.”
I did and he motioned for me to move closer to him. He gave me the cigarette.
“Finish it off and put it out…” he said.
I stood there naked next to his beautiful, relaxed, semi-rubbered body while I smoked and his gloves played with my tits. I stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray on a nearby table and returned to him.
“Strap me in, but don’t bother locking the straps up.”
“Yes master.” I said and began to lift his legs so I could fix them in the restraints that hung from the chains. His eyes sparkled at me from out of the hangmans hood while I did as he said. When I’d finished strapping his ankles up, I did his wrists and then finally fixed the strap across his stomach.
“Now put on the gear that I’ve laid out on the bed.”
I walked over to the bed and found a clean one-piece suit, some more gloves and a hood with pin-prick eyes and a zip mouth. I put them on and buckled the collar of the hood tightly round my neck. Then I returned to my master’s side.
“Go up the dungeon steps and open the door…” he said.
I was wildly turned on, trying to second-guess his next moves. I certainly wouldn’t have expected to be tying him up. I did as he said and when I opened the door at the top of the steps (the nearest I’d been to actually leaving the dungeon in well over a week) I found my mirror image stood in front of me. He’d brought Tom back and he was dressed in identical gear to me, stood perfectly still with his arms at his side. His arms came up and he turned me round again and we both walked back down the steps - him locking the door behind us - and over to the sling where Alan rested in his chaps, vest, boots, gloves and hood.
“Undo your mouths…” he said and we both unzipped the mouths of our hoods, “and come, one each side of me, to worship my tits with your teeth and tongues.”
We leant over him and set to work on his nipples, while he gently swayed in the sling, making pleasure-filled moaning noises and saying “Good slaves…” from time to time. This went on for quarter of an hour or so with us not even touching him apart from with our mouths. Still he sighed and groaned.
“Keep going at my tits…” he said, “and Slave, play with my balls - and Tom, wank my cock… slowly. Now get to it…”
We did, me gently fumbling with his balls, slipping them around in my gloved fingers and squeezing them gently in my fist while Tom held my master’s shaft and slowly pumped it back and forth. This went on for another quarter of an hour or so - and whenever I sneaked a look up at Alan, his face was lost in ecstasy and his arms writhed in the restraints as he squirmed with delight at our work. It must have looked nice to him as well, having two identical rubber slaves going at his body like nothing else in the world mattered - which, of course, it didn’t.
“Okay stop…” he said eventually. We did as he said and looked up at him.
“Tom, get behind my head and lean over me to play with my tits. Slave stand between my legs and play with my cock and balls.”
We took up our new positions and I stood in my anonymous rubbers between my master’s dangling legs as my hands juggled with his balls and wanked his cock, while ahead of me Tom in his identical gear, leaning over Alan’s head and rubbing, twisting and pulling on his tits.
Alan continued to writhe and squirm in the rerstraints, his shiny vest and chaps rippling on him as he did so. His mouth hung open beneath the hangmans hood and let out satisfied moans and groans as we did our best to please him.
“Lick my chaps too, slave…” he said, and I leant into the shiny rubber and licked the insides of his rubber thighs through my hood.
“Harder, both of you…” he commanded.
His cock was throbbing and twitching more in my hands as we both did as he wished.
“Rim me, slave!” he suddenly shouted and, with my hands still working on his reddened, aching tackle, I plunged my hood down beneath him and up his crack. I rimmed him good and hard with my slave’s tongue, worshipping his arse the way it deserved to be worshipped.
His body, held tight in the restraints began to swing wildly as he let out a series of short, loud grunts, followed by an almighty shudder as he came off over his rubber vest. We both continued playing with him till he ordered us to stop and stand either side of him.
“Feed him my gism…” he said, looking at Tom - who stood opposite me. Tom swept it up off Alan’s stomach with his gloves and pushed them into my mouth repeatedly until I’d eaten it all.
We stood looking at each other’s almost featureless hoods as we waited for the next order.
Surprisingly the next order wasn’t to let him out of the restraints. Instead he stayed put in them and commanded us to wank ourselves off over him.
“Whoever comes off last has to lick it all up. Now get going…”
Tom and I looked at each other’s rubber-clad bodies and at Alan laid there strapped into the sling as we pulled out our cocks and got wanking. This time he didn’t have a sheath on and I could see a mass of dark pubic hair at the back of his cock and round his scrotum. It struck me that this was the most of him I’d ever seen even though he’d already not only seen me but fucked my face and my arse. We wanked faster and faster, almost unable to wait to see the mess we’d make on Alan’s vest. I came first in a sudden - almost unexpected burst of orgasm, shooting spurt after spurt of hot cum out onto the shiny black rubber. Tom threw his head back and shot his virtually straight afterwards. Alan looked at him while he caught his breath. Then he looked at me.
“Make him drink it up then, slave…” he said.
I reached over and took Tom’s hooded skull in my hands and pushed it down onto my master’s stomach. I could hear him slurping at our cum and I moved his face around in the mess for a good long time to make sure he got to all of it. Alan was smiling at me as I did so, and even though he couldn’t see my face, I think he knew I was smiling too.
“Do your suits back up - and your mouth zips, and then unstrap me.” he said.
Once we’d released him he got up and fetched two leashes, attatching one to Tom’s collar and one to mine. He slipped the other ends of the leashes round one of his wrists and tugged downwards so that we both knelt before him. Then he walked across the dungeon - us following behind on our hands and knees - and sat down on the bed while we knelt next to it, still kept on the leashes. He smoked a cigarette and then tied the leashes round one of the black iron bedposts and lay back for a rest. We continued to kneel there obediently, still and silent by him, while he slept.
Part 8
When Alan finally woke up, he looked down at us on the floor next to the bed - our leashes still tied to the bed frame. He leant over and stroked the side of each of our hooded faces with his warm gloves.
He knew which of us was Tom and untied his leash.
“Come on…” he said, as if to a dog, and walked him away. I heard them going up the steps and the door closing behind them. I remained knelt there, facing the bed for about half an hour before my master returned alone.
He was still in his chaps, boots, vest and gloves - but he’d taken off the hangmans hood. He lay down on the bed and untied my leash from the bed frame, pulling on it till I climbed up onto the bed beside him.
“How is my slave then?” he asked as he unzipped my mouth, put his arms round me and held me close to him.
“Fine, thank you master. I love you.”
“Good. Enjoying your training?”
“Yes master - loving it. Thank you for training me.”
“Even the really sordid stuff?”
“Yes master. Have I proved how much I want this life? That I have it in me to live it for real?”
“Yes, I think so: you’ve done well. I’ve not even had to punish you much. Tomorrow I’ll draw up a new contract to replace your training contract. It’ll say what you are to wear as your slave uniform, give you new sleeping arrangements, stuff like that…”
“Thank you master.”
“We’ll go out a bit later to celebrate your becoming my rubberman. Okay?”
“Yes master. Thank you master.”
“For now though, you can lick my boots, chaps and tits and then go down on my cock.”
With that he unbuckled the collar of my hood and unzipped it’s back, pulling it from my sweaty scalp.
“Get to work, slave…”
I started with his boots, giving them long, hard licks with my eager tongue while he lay back on the rubber sheets and pillow, smiling as he watched me. I crouched into his beautiful body which smelt of rubber and worked my way up his shiny chaps, making the taste of the latex fill my mouth, getting hornier and harder in my service of his rubbers. Then I shuffled up to his chest and found his gorgeous nipples just clear of the cut of his rubber vest. I licked, tongued and bit each of them in turn, smiling inside as I heard him saying, “Good slave” occasionally.
Then he pulled my face off his chest and started to play with them himself through his soft gloves.
“Okay, finish me off slave…” he said, and I went down to his crotch and sucked him really hard as my gloves played with his balls and the skin between them and his crack. His body jolted on the bed as he launched a stream of gism into the back of my throat - gasping as he did so. I stayed down there working on his cock, draining it of every last bit of his gift to me as it softened.
“Good slave…” he said, pulling my head up next to his.
I lay down by him and started licking his tits again in absolute adoration of my perfect, sadistic, all-powerful rubber master.
I was so happy. He now owned me completely - just as I’d wanted - he’d said as much earlier. And he’d trained me enough to take whatever he did to me in the future. I was owned - body and mind - completely controlled, everything from my clothes to my sleep to my bodily functions. Owned by the man I loved and worshipped. I could now lose myself in serving him and his desires: nothing else mattered.
He rubbed my throbbing cock through my suit as our tongues filled each other’s mouths. I couldn’t look away from his beautiful, intense, masterful eyes. There was nobody - nothing - in the world I could worship more, and to be kept in the most cruel and severe rubber bondage for his pleasure was more than I could ever hope for… but it was mine. My imprisonment by him, my torture by him, my degradation by him… all mine for as long as his sadistic heart wanted them.
My master had let me into heaven and I wanted him to lock me in forever.
“Right…” he said, taking his hands off my crotch, “we’ll celebrate properly with a real messy cumfest when we get back, but for now we’d better get ready to go out. You first…”
He motioned for me to stand up, and he went over to the rail with all the suits and rubbers hanging from it. He came back over to me with a thick latex dry suit which had boots on it but no gloves - just tight wrist-seals and a dry-zip across the back of the shoulders.
“Get into it, slave…” he said, handing me the heavy rubber. He’d said nothing about removing the suit I was already in, so I kept it on.
I stepped into the dry suit and wriggled it up my body, pushing my gloved hands out through the wrist-seals and pulled my head through the hole in the rubber collar. He walked round behind me and pulled the brass zip across my shoulderblades.
“You’re starting to look really pervy…” he said and kissed me while he groped my crotch. Then he walked off again, returning with a frighteningly heavy set of iron shackles.
“This is so that you and everybody else is in no doubt that you’re owned…” he said, holding them up in front of me.
It was a complete set of shackles made from thick, polished iron. A heavy chain ran down from the front of the collar to meet another chain that joined a manacle for each ankle. About halfway up the main chain was another that went from either side of it to the wrist manacles.
“Sit on the bed, slave…” he said firmly.
I sat down and he fixed manacles around each of the boots of the dry suit, locking them on with some kind of special screw-key. Already I could feel the weight of them, getting really turned on by such severe restraint (and the thought of my master parading me in public in it).
Next he locked the upper set of manacles onto my wrists, the various chains shuffling and rattling with deep, heavy metallic noises.
Finally he placed the hinged collar around my neck and closed it. It rested on my shoulders, comfortably tight - but very heavily - around the base of my neck. As with all the other shackles, once he’d got the hinges closed, he used the screw-key device to lock it shut.
“Stand up and let me see you…” he said.
I stood before him, the weight of all the shackles a completely new thing to me - but feeling fucking sexy clamped onto my thick rubbers. He smiled and fondled his cock which was getting rapidly hard again.
“Right…” he said, “I’m off to get changed. Sit on the bed and wait for your master.”
I did so and watched his beautiful buns moving between the shiny chaps as he walked off out of the dungeon.
Alan was gone for ages - probably having a bath and/or resting before changing into whatever outfit he’d decided on for the night.
I just sat there enjoying the feeling of drizzles of sweat and pre-cum moving around inside my two suits and of the utter pervy, sexy feel of the irons that my master had so carefully locked me into.
When he returned he was wearing his beautifully shiny rubber jeans - and I was imagining tasting the juicy, sweaty cock that was stuck inside them. He had the tit-flasher vest on again, and his riding boots, thin rubber gloves and biker jacket. I’d expected him to have the hangmans hood on, but he didn’t. Instead he’d got got all his studs, rings and sleepers in his nose and ears. He looked so horny, so severe and pervy and I felt perfect knowing that I now belonged to him - to that gorgeous rubber sadist. He carried what at first appeared to be a small sheet of rubber, but as he held it up in front of me I saw that it was a rubber bag-hood with a drawstring round the bottom that had a small padlock hanging from a fixing on it.
“Right, we’d better put this on you slave, our lift’s here.”
He placed the bag over my head, and I was enveloped in warm, latex darkness. He pulled the drawstring and it all shuffled tightly round my neck. Then I heard him snap the padlock into place and put the key away in one of his pockets.
Without a word, he helped me to my feet and walked my blind, sluggish, weighted body across the dungeon and up the steps. The chain between my ankles wasn’t very long and forced me to take short, awkward steps. My suits rippled on my hot, wet skin and my warm breath began to condense on the inside of the bag-hood. I suddenly felt the cold air of outside and - completely disorientated - I was slowly sat down in a car with my master stroking me and whispering “I love you” to me.
We were in the car for some time and I was cooking inside my suits and dripping sweat onto my face inside the confines of the hood. It was the kind of disorientation and movement and heat that could make you carsick, but I was just too turned on to notice. I kept my hands down by my lap - where my master would want them to be - while he rubbed and flicked the bulge in the crotch of my rubbers.
Eventually we arrived, and he lifted me from the car and slowly walked me into the club. I could hear music and people as we walked deep into the building - my heavy shackles and the short chain between the ankles making me slow and hesitant - until we were in the centre of the noise. Alan sat me down.
“Wait here while I get some drinks, slave…” he said and left me - almost frightened in my isolation.
When he eventually came back, he sat next to me and brought his face next to the bag-hood to talk to me.
“Well, there’s quite a few people looking at you…” he said, “They’re probably wondering what I do to you when we’re alone. If I keep you in that all the time… Which I might from now on ’cause you look sexy and helpless in it, and that’s how I like you to look.”
He kept me in the bag-hood for quite some time while he drank and smoked and chatted to people that stopped by him. He was turned away from me when he was talking - and the other people weren’t near enough for me to make out what they were saying - so all I could hear was the muffled buzz of conversation. Was it about me? Was he fixing up other slaves to play with us in the dungeon? Was he even going to loan me to another master? I could only guess - and get an even more rigid hard-on. The iron manacles and collar weighed heavily on me, turning me on by what serious bits of bondage gear they were - I was truly Alan’s prisoner (though there could never be another prisoner this willing).
Eventually he unlocked the bag-hood and slowly pulled it from my sweaty face and sodden hair. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked around to see a crowd of rubber and leather-clad men and women. Some wore catsuits, some gasmasks, some hoods, some jeans or chaps, some waders, some tall docs, some harnesses and collars, some virtually nothing at all. The light wasn’t too bright, but I could see all the beautiful rubber and leather and the people enjoying being in it.
Alan kissed me, forcing his tongue way into my mouth while he felt all over my dry suit, noisily shifting the chains around.
“You look lovely, my slave…” he said, smiling at me, “now have some beer and help yourself to a ciggie.”
There was a bottle of beer ready for me and I lifted it with my heavy arms and drank the cool liquid gratefully. Alan kept an arm hung round me, alternately drinking and smoking with the other, while I lifted my drink and cigarette with my gloved hands - the clumsy iron weight of my shackles and the thick, heavy layers of sweaty rubber ever-present.
I felt so special being shown off like this, in such utter bondage to my beautiful, pierced rubber master.
A guy was standing nearby, making sure Alan could see him. He smiled occasionally at my master and eventually Alan got up and went to talk to him. He was really cute: his head was completely shaved apart from a narrow shock of long, jet black hair that was tied back into a short ponytail and his ears were covered in rings and studs - he had several rings in his eyebrows too, and one in the side of his nose. His face was sculpted and his eyes were dark. He wore glossy PVC jeans and big, black, strapped scrambler boots. His chest was bare and his pierced tits were joined by a delicate metal chain. On his arms he wore long rubber gloves, but with the fingers cut off them and partly covered with bangles and studded wriststraps - a cigarette in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. His long neck had a chain round it, secured with a padlock. Alan talked with him for a while - he was smiling and they occasionally glanced at me, Alan even tugged on the chain between his tits a couple of times - and then he came back and sat down by the heavy rubber and iron mass of his slave.
“His name’s Richard and he wants to know if he can piss in your suit.”
“What did you say?” I asked, trying to sound calm.
“I told him I’d think about it. Anyway, I’ve got his phone number for another time. ‘Bet you wouldn’t mind me letting him torture you, would you slut?”
“Yes master.” I admitted. He clearly knew as much anyway.
We talked for a while - not as master and slave, but as Alan and Gareth for the first time since my training had begun. It was strange not to be feeling like a slave in all my gear or to respond to him as anything other than some kind of rubber-clad god, but there in our gear, horny as hell, we just chatted and kissed and hugged. My shackles and the rubbery mess that filled my inner suit always reminded me of what I really was, but it was nice just to be there with him as we talked and cruised the night away.
After a while he got up and became my master again.
“Come with me, slave…” he said, and I lifted myself and the weight of my gear and restraints to follow him slowly across the crowded bar. As we passed Richard, Alan asked him, “Coming?” and he smiled and walked ahead of me with my master. We went into the toilets and Alan directed us into a large cubicle, closed off floor to ceiling from the rest of the room.
“Kneel before your master…” said Alan. I did, and he leant me forward to get at the dry-zip across the back of my shoulders. He opened it and then said to Richard, “Feel free…”
I felt him moving himself over the hole and suddenly he gushed a thick, hard jet of hot piss down into my suit. It lasted for ages and my cock went rigid against my stomach as I felt it splashing down my spine. When Richard had finished, Alan told him to thank me, and so he came round in front of me and knelt down and kissed me while my master added his own long flow of steaming, beery urine to the mess in my dry suit. When he’d finished he pulled the heavy brass zip shut again and said, “And now you can thank both of us slave…”
Their piss sloshed around in the suit as I virtually lay on the floor and licked Richard’s and Alan’s boots, going back and forth for minute after minute.
“Okay, that’s enough… Good slave.” said Alan, and helped me to my feet again, now even heavier and clumsier with their piss swilling around in my legs. He turned to Richard.
“I’ll give you a ring, yeah?”
“Please…” he said.
Then we walked back out again and Richard disappeared into the crowd. We sat down again and Alan looked at me.
“You love being controlled by me, don’t you slave?”
“God yes, master.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Yes master. A lot.”
“Good…” he said, and put the bag-hood on me again. Soon it was tightened and padlocked into place and I waited in obedient silence under the crushing weight of the ironwork and the thick heat of my suits for half an hour or so till Alan said, “Let’s go home.”
Once more my awkward, slow figure was walked through the crowd by my master, and after a while we were outside - the cold air sending a strange but wonderful shiver through the wetness of my rubbers. I was carefully put in the car again and my master stroked me in silence as the long journey passed. As the car invisibly bumped and sped and swung it’s way home, my bladder finally gave way and a hot, pulsing flood of my own piss rushed up my belly and round my legs, filling my suit with yet more steamy, sexy mess. He helped me out of the car when it finally stopped and the doors opened, and walked me back down into the dungeon. I was taken slowly over to the bed, where he sat me on the edge of it. The bag-hood was unlocked, loosened and lifted off my head and I looked into my master’s eyes.
“You really do look sexy in that, slave…” he said.
“Thank you master. I love you.”
“I know I promised you a cum-fest when we got back, but now I’d kind of like you to sleep in those suits and the manacles all night first… To really get you going.”
“I am your slave: I will do whatever you wish.”
“I know. How do you fancy some more piss in there before you go to sleep?”
“Whatever you wish, master…”
“The thing is, I don’t actually need a piss…”
Then a figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the dungeon.
“…How about you, Richard?”
His body jewellery and glossy jeans glinted as his menacing figure moved into the light.
“I’m fuckin’ bursting, Alan sir…” he said with a wicked smile, as my master began to undo the dry-zip.
THE END OF "TRAINING"