Enslaved as a Urinal (a daydream without an ending yet)
by amam9000
For those curious, I haven’t given up on the Wrath of the Frat story, but these take a lot of time to write properly, and I may not get around to the next entry for awhile. That’s also part of why this is only half a story – it’s all I have time for right now. (This is also a little milder than what I usually write.)
The other reason that its only half of a story because my trip isn’t until next week, and who knows how this might turn out? :)
----
I had a little time to kill. I had a conference in San Francisco later that week, but had flown in a few days early to give myself a small break from work. And now I was wandering around taking a look through the bondage district out of curiosity. (I’m sure it wasn’t actually called that, but I’d already nicknamed it in my mind.)
I’d never been in a leather shop before—they’re not exactly common in southern Indiana—and I decided to take a look around. I’d seen a lot of these things on tumblr. Jumbled masses of locking straps, electric gadgets, masks, a million different things made out of rubber. I’ve toyed with BDSM here and there, but never really had the chance to try out anything particularly hardcore. On the rare occasions that I do hookup, it’s never more than oral (I’m sure fucking is fun for other people, but intensely painful for me), and has never been more confining than handcuffs or a little rope. But certainly I’ve seen more thorough examples online, and they occupied my sexual fascinations enough to warrant taking a peek at the real deal.
I was poking through a wall of locking human-sized boxes when a guy approached me. He was wearing tight jeans and a Henley shirt that covered his muscular chest up while still letting you know what lay beneath. “Hey man,” he said, “can I help you find anything?”
“No,” I said politely. “I’m just browsing. This is all out of my price range anyway, but I was curious about it.”
The man smiled. “You wanna try one out? Just to see?”
I thought for a minute. It sounded like fun – safe, temporary, and hell this guy was hot. “Yeah, if you’re offering to let me try one, sure I’d love to.”
He fiddled with a latch on a box and the thing swung open, revealing a padded seat inside with some straps on it. “Step on in,” he said to me. I timidly climbed into the box, taking a seat where he indicated. I could smell the soap he washed with as he leaned over and started strapping me in. Soon, I was secured inside, with my hands locked in place. “Chin up,” he said to me as he swung the box shut, snapping it closed around my neck. The surface of the top was padded too, in grey leather or vinyl, I couldn’t tell which. In any case, I was locked in place and definitely not getting out without help. He was still fidgeting with the latch, and a moment later I heard a padlock click shut.
“You like it?” he asked me.
“Yeah man, this is fun. I’ve always wondered what one of these would feel like.”
“Well there’s no hurry,” he said. “We actually sell more of these when there’s someone to show it off anyway. Why don’t I leave you in place for a little bit?”
“Yeah, I’m down for that,” I told him.
“Hold on,” he said. “Let’s complete the experience.” He stepped away for a minute, and I sat there looking around the shop. At the moment it appeared to be fairly empty.
He returned soon enough, carrying some kind of plastic thing in his hands. Approaching from my blind side, I couldn’t see much more of him than my peripheral vision allowed. “Open your mouth,” he said to me, and I complied. He pushed a thick tube into my mouth, around which there was some kind of close-fitting rubber guard. Soon he had it strapped on, and any effort to speak was severely impaired by the gag. As I looked up, I noted there was now a giant funnel strapped to the front of my face. He secured the straps in the back, and attached some tiny locks to them. “Much better,” he said. I mumbled a response through the gag that could have been anything.
“I’ll be back in a few,” he said to me. “Don’t go anywhere.” And with that, he left me alone.
The first ten minutes were exciting – I was finally experiencing some serious bondage, and it was fun. The next ten minutes were a little less exciting, and soon, the time was dragging on. I tried to call out to him a couple times to let me out, but the gag made such efforts meaningless.
Maybe an hour later, he came back to check on me. “I thought you might be getting thirsty,” he said as he undid his jeans, “so I brought you something to drink.” My eyes went wide, this was getting to be more than I had bargained for. He kicked a stepstool in front of the box to get some elevation, and pulled out his dick, aiming it down the funnel. Soon a torrent of piss was cascading down my throat, and I struggled to swallow it all. It tasted terrible, but there was no way to make it stop. I groaned as the guy kept pissing and pissing, what seemed like an unending waterfall of it. I was definitely ready to get out of this box.
He sighed as the flow tapered off. He shook his dick and put it away. “By the way,” he said to me, “sometimes we rent gear out. Not everyone can afford to buy one out-and-out, so we rent these to guys who want to use them once or twice and return them. Turns out, this one is due to be delivered in about fifteen minutes, along with that gag you’re wearing. Hope you don’t mind modeling these a little longer!” He patted my cheek as I yelled into the gag. “That’s what I thought,” he said sadistically.
I strained against the bonds inside, but they were locked and sturdy. I wore myself out and gave up after a few minutes. A few minutes after that, my captor was back again, this time with another guy. They chatted to each other as he clicked the castors on the bottom of the box, releasing the stops. The two men wheeled me through the store, and I watched helplessly as I was manouvred through a storeroom and into a back alley, where a small box truck with a ramp down was waiting. Working together, they pushed me up the ramp and into the back of the truck. Ratchet straps soon held the box in place against the wall, adding yet another layer of inescapability to this scene.
I had only intended to look around, and now here I was, trapped in a box with a urinal gag locked to my head, heading off to who knows where. Fuck, this was way more than I had bargained for…
by amam9000
For those curious, I haven’t given up on the Wrath of the Frat story, but these take a lot of time to write properly, and I may not get around to the next entry for awhile. That’s also part of why this is only half a story – it’s all I have time for right now. (This is also a little milder than what I usually write.)
The other reason that its only half of a story because my trip isn’t until next week, and who knows how this might turn out? :)
----
I had a little time to kill. I had a conference in San Francisco later that week, but had flown in a few days early to give myself a small break from work. And now I was wandering around taking a look through the bondage district out of curiosity. (I’m sure it wasn’t actually called that, but I’d already nicknamed it in my mind.)
I’d never been in a leather shop before—they’re not exactly common in southern Indiana—and I decided to take a look around. I’d seen a lot of these things on tumblr. Jumbled masses of locking straps, electric gadgets, masks, a million different things made out of rubber. I’ve toyed with BDSM here and there, but never really had the chance to try out anything particularly hardcore. On the rare occasions that I do hookup, it’s never more than oral (I’m sure fucking is fun for other people, but intensely painful for me), and has never been more confining than handcuffs or a little rope. But certainly I’ve seen more thorough examples online, and they occupied my sexual fascinations enough to warrant taking a peek at the real deal.
I was poking through a wall of locking human-sized boxes when a guy approached me. He was wearing tight jeans and a Henley shirt that covered his muscular chest up while still letting you know what lay beneath. “Hey man,” he said, “can I help you find anything?”
“No,” I said politely. “I’m just browsing. This is all out of my price range anyway, but I was curious about it.”
The man smiled. “You wanna try one out? Just to see?”
I thought for a minute. It sounded like fun – safe, temporary, and hell this guy was hot. “Yeah, if you’re offering to let me try one, sure I’d love to.”
He fiddled with a latch on a box and the thing swung open, revealing a padded seat inside with some straps on it. “Step on in,” he said to me. I timidly climbed into the box, taking a seat where he indicated. I could smell the soap he washed with as he leaned over and started strapping me in. Soon, I was secured inside, with my hands locked in place. “Chin up,” he said to me as he swung the box shut, snapping it closed around my neck. The surface of the top was padded too, in grey leather or vinyl, I couldn’t tell which. In any case, I was locked in place and definitely not getting out without help. He was still fidgeting with the latch, and a moment later I heard a padlock click shut.
“You like it?” he asked me.
“Yeah man, this is fun. I’ve always wondered what one of these would feel like.”
“Well there’s no hurry,” he said. “We actually sell more of these when there’s someone to show it off anyway. Why don’t I leave you in place for a little bit?”
“Yeah, I’m down for that,” I told him.
“Hold on,” he said. “Let’s complete the experience.” He stepped away for a minute, and I sat there looking around the shop. At the moment it appeared to be fairly empty.
He returned soon enough, carrying some kind of plastic thing in his hands. Approaching from my blind side, I couldn’t see much more of him than my peripheral vision allowed. “Open your mouth,” he said to me, and I complied. He pushed a thick tube into my mouth, around which there was some kind of close-fitting rubber guard. Soon he had it strapped on, and any effort to speak was severely impaired by the gag. As I looked up, I noted there was now a giant funnel strapped to the front of my face. He secured the straps in the back, and attached some tiny locks to them. “Much better,” he said. I mumbled a response through the gag that could have been anything.
“I’ll be back in a few,” he said to me. “Don’t go anywhere.” And with that, he left me alone.
The first ten minutes were exciting – I was finally experiencing some serious bondage, and it was fun. The next ten minutes were a little less exciting, and soon, the time was dragging on. I tried to call out to him a couple times to let me out, but the gag made such efforts meaningless.
Maybe an hour later, he came back to check on me. “I thought you might be getting thirsty,” he said as he undid his jeans, “so I brought you something to drink.” My eyes went wide, this was getting to be more than I had bargained for. He kicked a stepstool in front of the box to get some elevation, and pulled out his dick, aiming it down the funnel. Soon a torrent of piss was cascading down my throat, and I struggled to swallow it all. It tasted terrible, but there was no way to make it stop. I groaned as the guy kept pissing and pissing, what seemed like an unending waterfall of it. I was definitely ready to get out of this box.
He sighed as the flow tapered off. He shook his dick and put it away. “By the way,” he said to me, “sometimes we rent gear out. Not everyone can afford to buy one out-and-out, so we rent these to guys who want to use them once or twice and return them. Turns out, this one is due to be delivered in about fifteen minutes, along with that gag you’re wearing. Hope you don’t mind modeling these a little longer!” He patted my cheek as I yelled into the gag. “That’s what I thought,” he said sadistically.
I strained against the bonds inside, but they were locked and sturdy. I wore myself out and gave up after a few minutes. A few minutes after that, my captor was back again, this time with another guy. They chatted to each other as he clicked the castors on the bottom of the box, releasing the stops. The two men wheeled me through the store, and I watched helplessly as I was manouvred through a storeroom and into a back alley, where a small box truck with a ramp down was waiting. Working together, they pushed me up the ramp and into the back of the truck. Ratchet straps soon held the box in place against the wall, adding yet another layer of inescapability to this scene.
I had only intended to look around, and now here I was, trapped in a box with a urinal gag locked to my head, heading off to who knows where. Fuck, this was way more than I had bargained for…