Kept
A story written a long time ago by rubberpigobject but which was no longer readable in its entirety on Tumblr
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Here’s a story that pig just wrote tonight. Amazing huh? Be forewarned that it’s kind of a long short story. Things finally worked out enough that pig had both the time, space and “proper motivation” to play with an idea it’s had for a while and it’s so excited about being able to write again after months of being either depressed or busy etc etc that pig is just posting it right the hell now without any further editing. It’s highly likely to be riddled with typos or grammatical nonsense but hey, sometimes art is messy!
And before pig forgets again, it wants to thank everyone for their kind words and support when pig was feeling low. It really was very much appreciated.
And now, here’s the show, er… story!
pig calls it “Kept”
The pig was covered completely in rubber, as it always was. No skin showing anywhere and its eyes were hidden by tinted goggles this day. The pig was never sure if it liked the goggles any more or less than viewing the world through the pin prick eye holes that was the other customary concealment of the pig. It was rare for the pig to be allowed to see unobstructed, it was almost always forced to see the world either through the tinted goggles, various levels of pin prick eye holes or frequently, just not at all.
Both the goggles and the pin pricks made it difficult for the pig to see without having to work for it but in different ways. The larger pin prick holes weren’t so bad but of course limited its peripheral vision and its ability to focus both eyes on anything within arm’s reach and the smaller holes were even worse. On occasion SIR would have the pig in a hood with a singular tiny hole in front of each eye which forced the pig most times to turn its head so that it could look at anything but with just one obscured eye at a time. But with the pin pricks, once the pig could find what it was looking at, it managed to work things out, but the goggles were like wearing dark sunglasses indoors most of the time and so anytime the pig found itself in less than full light, much of its world was hidden in the dark. Reading anything was just about impossible, not that the pig was allowed to read books at all but if it needed to read in order to operate even a simple knob or control, the pig often couldn’t see well enough to know what the labels were. It wasn’t entirely uncommon that the pig would struggle with a flashlight or move the object into better lighting somewhere just so it could operate it.
Today was one of those days where it knew it would be struggling to see at some point, hopefully they wouldn’t become fogged up at all. Usually that wasn’t the case but it happened enough that the pig found itself nearly blinded and useless because of it. But so far so good, everything was just a bit dark.
The pig was also subjected to a solid leather gag that filled its mouth completely and reached back far enough that occasionally the pig would actually struggle with the thing tickling the back of its throat. Naturally the gag was locked on like all the gear pig was kept in and since today’s gag was a solid one, it meant the pig wouldn’t be eating or drinking until sometime in the evening when its Owner would arrive home from work and eventually fed it. Usually after the Master had eaten Himself. The pig was often fed similar to the style of a canine, twice a day. Those were challenging days at times, depending on how hard the pig had to work those days but of course it never complained. How could it? it was always gagged and forbidden to speak except when directed to, the pig could only answer the questions its Owner put to it. Those were the only times the pig was actually able to use its voice and to form actual words, which were very rare indeed. The pig was an animal, an intelligent and unique animal, but still… an animal and SIR didn’t want to hear or need it to speak.
All morning long the rubber encased, gagged and visually obstructed pig shuffled around in the dungeon breathing heavily through its nose as it worked to clean up the space from the night before. SIR had a couple of guests that evening which resulted with a large amount of gear, toys and everything else spread out around the space. pig was usually both amused and dismayed at the gear explosions that followed a good scene and this particular gear explosion looked like the London Blitz. The pig had spent the evening locked in the smaller of the two cages it was kept in by its Owner so it was grateful to be able to move around today, even if it meant struggling with heavy shackles that held its feet so close together that it could only shuffle about two or three inches at a time.
The pig was used only as a prop for the evening, locked in a cramped and small cage that sat on top of a small platform. The platform was used so that when the pig’s head was locked through a hole in the door of the cage, its head and more importantly its mouth would be at the right height to be of use as a cock sucking machine and a urinal. But that night the pig was completely inside the cage, tucked into a fetal position on its knees until SIR finally finished with His guests and informed the pig that it could move around and relax for the night.
What that really meant though was laughable considering the fact that when the pig was in that cage, it was literally touched on all sides of its rubber encased body by the bars of the cage. “Moving around” meant a laboriously slow effort to shift itself around onto one side or the other which allowed just enough room to take the pressure off its knees and allow some blood to flow back into its feet. Try as it might, the pig could never manage to get itself onto its back in that tiny cage like it could in the larger cage. As it was, once on its side, it often chose to remain there no matter how much its body ached because the effort to get back onto its knees was so monumental. The pig would be exerting so much effort that it would find itself struggling to catch its breath since it couldn’t expand its torso enough to do so. It was just easier to stay on its side until it was released or instructed to suck it up and get on its knees again.
The pig both loved and hated that cage, often simultaneously. It was maddening. But for the moment it was glad to be free of it regardless of the work the pig was tasked with that day. It had taken hours of shuffling back and forth across the dungeon to put everything away, cleaning up the messes, wiping down the gear and all while its wrists were handcuffed in large bulky steel restraints and thin rubber fist mitts. The fist mitts were loose enough to allow the pig to manipulate its fingers enough to roughly grab objects when using both hands but not enough to fully extend its hands or fingers. On top of that (or inside actually) the pig was still wearing rubber gloves inside the fist mitts as well because as much as possible, the pig was never to feel skin touching skin, it must always feel and be trapped in rubber.
The thin rubber fist mitts allowed the pig just enough dexterity that by using both hands, it could pick up objects and handle them, but anything more detailed than that was impossible. Like using a key. SIR liked to keep the pig in a near constant state of struggling and suffering, not abuse by any means, but instead to ensure that everything the pig did had to be worked for and earned, its entire existence was designed so that it would be reminded at every opportunity that it wasn’t a human, it was a thing. A rubber encased captive, and every motion and movement of its body was to be met with resistance and bondage. Never knowing a moment of complete freedom, of just being able to move, stretch or touch anything without a layer of rubber between itself and the rest of the world. The pig was constantly reminded of its lowly state, of being an owned and controlled object with no rights, no freedom and not even any status. It all had the bizarre result of making the pig that much more devoted to its Owner. Everything that came from SIR was a gift, whether that was more bondage or just being able to simply wiggle its rubber gloved fingers independently. It all told the pig of its place in the world, where it belonged and what its purpose in life was: to serve, worship and obey its Master and Owner.
The pig didn’t have to, nor was it allowed to worry about anything else. In this most extreme bondage and captivity the pig found the ultimate freedom and even when it suffered, it was still always grateful to its Master. Even when He would leave the pig with the task of cleaning up a huge mess behind Him that the pig didn’t get to enjoy itself.
Winded and sweating heavily inside its rubberskin the pig carefully lowered itself to the floor and rested its back against the larger cage. it had finally returned the dungeon to its pristine state and needed a rest before continuing. The pig sat on the floor, even when it was alone because sitting on furniture was never allowed. Even if the dungeon wasn’t monitored with two security cameras the pig had been trained enough that if it were to break such a rule, it would feel so guilty and ashamed that it would have to confess its guilt to SIR. The hypnotic conditioning was a major part of that training and so if the pig did something it knew it shouldn’t do, it would be compelled to either find its Owner (if physically able to do so) and kneel beside Him until He eventually acknowledged the pig, or the pig would kneel in a specific corner of the dungeon to wait for SIR to find it.
Once the pig knelt in either place, it was unable to get up or otherwise move again until SIR released it. The pig became a statue through post hypnotic suggestion, trapped motionless until SIR released it and questioned it about its transgression at which time SIR would determine an appropriate consequence for the pig. This was rarely necessary as the pig only ever sought to please and obey its Owner but on extremely rare occasions the pig would have a moment of weakness which ultimately resulted in some form of correction. The last time was the worst as the pig was frozen as a kneeling statue for so long it pissed itself and when SIR released the pig, it collapsed on the floor in its own piss until it could eventually feel its feet and move its knees again. The pig hated failing its Master at all, even more so when the pig did anything it knew it shouldn’t so it did everything it could to avoid such situations. That is until it eventually succumbed to temptation in another moment of weakness starting the entire cycle all over again. At times the pig wondered if there wasn’t another post hypnotic suggestion at work that it wasn’t aware of which would eventually lead the pig down the wrong path. It wasn’t hard to imagine as the pig knew there were many post hypnotic suggestions in its head that it had no idea what they were or how many there were. SIR was deeply embedded in the both pig’s conscious thoughts and its sub-conscience firmware and the pig liked that fact. Or was it made to like it?
Once pig was ready to begin its next set of chores it climbed to its feet and shuffled over to the door of the dungeon which was locked. It was always locked unless SIR was in the dungeon Himself. Even at night when the pig was locked in its cage, or helplessly immobilizing bondage that door was locked with no other way out of the dungeon. There was so much redundancy around pig’s captivity and bondage that some people couldn’t get their heads around it, but SIR insisted and so did pig before its opinions were no longer required.
There was a doorbell next to the door, a small black box with a singular button that had an illuminated glowing blue ring around it. pig carefully lined up its knuckle inside one of the fist mitts and pressed the button which caused the blue ring to turn white indicating that the doorbell was contacting SIR. It was a smart doorbell which would send SIR an alert to His smartphone where He could view the pig through the doorbell’s camera and communicate with it. The doorbell was used as more than a doorbell though as the pig was instructed to use it to contact its Owner either if there were any problems or when the pig was ready for whatever next step there might be for its day or just training in general.
The pig stood waiting and simply stared at the glowing white ring waiting for it to turn blue again which indicated SIR was about to answer. It seemed to take a while before SIR answered which wasn’t unexpected since He was at work and couldn’t always take the time or the privacy required to talk to His animal through a smart doorbell app. Once the pig stood waiting at that doorbell for half an hour, later learning that SIR had been stuck in a meeting and once pig rang the doorbell it wasn’t allowed to stray, it had to wait for its Master.
Finally the ring around the doorbell changed from white to blue and SIR’S voice came through a small speaker which often excited the pig. “Ready to get on with the rest of your chores pig?” SIR asked.
The pig leaned in close to the doorbell (just to be safe) and grunted once, nice and loud to make sure He could hear it. The substantial gag locked in its pig mouth really did a good job at muffling the pig’s noises.
“Excellent pig” replied SIR “Pup made sure to get all the laundry done before it left for work so there should be plenty for the pig to work on. SIR has an event at work this evening so SIR won’t be home until late, and pup has a night out as well so pig should have plenty of time to finish its chores. Alright pig?”
“Mmph!”
A few moments later there was a small high pitched beep which the pig was only able to hear through its rubber hood by holding its breath and it watched as the electronic smart deadbolt turned in place, unlocking the door. The pig raised its manacled and rubbered paws and pushed the door open to reveal the stairs that led up to the rest of the house. The entire basement which spanned the breadth of the house had been converted to a dungeon and play space and all that was left outside the dungeon’s door was the staircase.
The pig shuffled to the bottommost stair and sighed a heavy breath, going up the stairs like this was a major effort. Down was easier as the pig could just sit on the stairs and slide its butt down to the next step, going up though required more effort, especially since its hands were closely handcuffed together, the pig couldn’t easily lift its butt up to the next step. The pig had learned that the only way it could effectively climb the stairs and not either kill or over exert itself, was to sit down basically side-saddle so that it could put its rubber fist-fitted and shackled hands on a step in order to lift its butt to the next step, bring its shackled feet up and start the process again. It wasn’t unusual for it to take the pig up to five minutes just to get to the top, it couldn’t remember the last time it was ever able to climb the stairs like a normal person. At best the chain between its ankles would only allow the pig to carefully put one foot on a step and bring the other one up to the same step before continuing to the next step. It was all just one of the hundreds of ways the pig’s life was structured to keep it submissive.
The sad thing though about this whole ordeal was that the washer and dryer were all the way up on the second floor in the Master bedroom. The pig had yet another, and longer set of stairs to contend with long before it could ever even start the process of folding the laundry and the pig always arrived at the top of those stairs winded and sweating. Since everything the pig did always required more effort, it wasn’t hard for the pig to break into a sweat inside its rubber skin and since today was going to be a long one with no food or water until sometime in the evening, the pig did its best to “climb” the stairs slowly enough that it didn’t overwork itself too much.
The entire time it was slowly and pathetically making its way up the stairs its mind bounced between ridiculous images and thoughts of being found dead on the stairs and what the police or others might think, and wondering just how much laundry was waiting for it. It had been a while since the pig needed to fold and put it away and it had no idea if pup had been taking care of it until now or if they were deliberately letting it pile up. When SIR would put the pig to chores or a task during the day while He was at work, SIR wasn’t usually concerned with the pig doing anything quickly. It was actually more important that the pig had to struggle and negotiate with it in order to do it well for its Master. The computer work wasn’t always treated the same way but most of the physically oriented tasks were. Sometimes the struggles like climbing the stairs to fold and put away the laundry would make pig grateful for the days that pig would be either left in the cage or even rigidly immobilized in the bondage chair for the ten or twelve hours its Owner would be at work. And then after a grueling bondage session of immobility like that, the pig was more than ready to start another struggling task for SIR. The pig basically lived in a never-ending bondage predicament.
Finally, after a ridiculously long time the pig finally made it up to the second floor and across the house to the Master bedroom and into the walk-in closet where the laundry was kept and the pig’s heart just sank. Not only did it look like practically every stitch of clothing had been washed and piled up, but there were also big items like towels and bedsheets. All this while the pig’s rubber gloved hands were locked inside thin rubber fist mitts and shackled together like handcuffs in thick heavy metal restraints. This was truly going to take all day. The pig shuffled far enough back to the bedroom to take a peek at the clock and saw that it was already past two o’clock and its heart sank even more. SIR usually left for work around ten and it took the pig longer than it realized to clean the basement and get upstairs. it tried telling itself that the silver lining of it all was that SIR said there was an event at His work in the evening which would keep Him later than usual, giving pig more time. Hopefully.
Nearly defeated before it even began, pig shuffled back into the walk-in closet and began to fumble with setting up a lightweight folding table that was kept in there for well… folding laundry.
The pig couldn’t help itself though. As it pinched a pair of pants between both hands and started laying them out on the table, the pig couldn’t remember the last time it had felt any fabric other than its own bath towel roughy every two weeks, and it often worried that the pig was never able to tell if any of it was still damp or not. pig couldn’t feel it one way or the other.
It was a laboriously slow process to fold laundry with just fist mitts on, needing to paw the fabric between both hands and contorting its entire body for each fold, but then to have its wrists shackled together with the heavy cuffs meant (from experience) that the pig’s back was going to be aching fiercely long before it finished folding just the clothes. Much less the despair-inducing sheets and towels. It all didn’t need to be perfect but a best effort still needed to be made. The only real saving grace was that when the pig was locked in fist mitts, it was forbidden to even try to iron SIR’S shirts.
Since the pig’s hands were cuffed together, it also meant that the pig wasn’t able to stack the laundry as it folded it because it would never be able to pick up the stack and get it to where it needed to go. That meant that once something was folded, pig had to slide it off the table in order to get its hands around it, and shuffle each individual item to where it needed to go. One round trip for every single piece of clothing. It was enough to make the pig want to cry but it knew if it gave in to pity and despair that the only thing would happen would be that its goggles would fog up and it wouldn’t be able to see well enough to finish this “one simple task”.
Try as it might to pace itself, the pig in its rubberskin was panting and sweating heavily and so nearly exhausted that it was beginning to stumble and lose its balance at times. The sun had gone down hours ago and the pig was so focused on its job that it never stopped to check the time. It’s legs were shaking and its back ached fiercely from its neck down but it had finally managed to get even the sheets folded. It didn’t all look very pretty and it bothered the pig that it couldn’t make it as nice as it would like but it was all done and in its place. The pig put the table away and began its journey back down to the front door after a quick pit stop to relive itself.
The most commonly required thing for the pig to do whenever it had completed its chores, and when it was mobile, was to then make sure it was kneeling and waiting in the entrance for SIR to arrive home. While the pig wasn’t required to be there immediately after completing its chores, there was little else for the pig to do to fill the time since it wasn’t allowed (nor able) to use anything like the computer or stereo and television was permanently off limits. If it was able and willing, the pig could volunteer more working but only just as long as that as well, was completed before SIR came home and the pig was kneeling waiting for SIR. The only time pig was never to be waiting for SIR at the front door in SOME kind of bondage, either self-imposed or just from what SIR left it in, was if the pig was physically unable to make it to the door, such as when it was locked in a cage or immobilized somewhere. So far pig had never missed that mark and it was one of the mistakes that pig was actually somewhat terrified to make, so usually if the pig had extra time, it would still just go and wait, kneeling at the door for its Owner to appear.
Since the time was so variable between when pig would start kneeling and SIR would come home, there was a specially designed kneeling seat for the pig to mount. It was on a small platform with wheels so that when the pig was confined to the seat, it could be easily relocated as often time SIR wouldn’t want to release it just to have it walk to SIR’S chair and begin kneeling again. The pig could just be rolled into place as needed. The seat was just a simple, padded seat about four inches deep and just wide enough for the pig’s butt. It was raised enough that the pig could slide its feet underneath the seat then sit back onto it. It had the effect of not blocking the blood flow to its feet and there was padding beneath the knees. At the point where the feet rested behind the pig, its ankles would be locked into place so that once seated and locked, the pig was unable to get up again until SIR unlocked it. Quite often, SIR would arrive home, look down at the pig, maybe smile and if the pig was very lucky SIR might pat it on the head before leaving the pig where it was while SIR settled in at home. Sometimes the pig would remain there staring at the door while SIR ate His dinner in the kitchen, other times the pig might be fortunate enough to be wheeled into the kitchen with SIR and allowed to watch as SIR ate His meal. Ultimately, the pig would be wheeled into either SIR’S office while He would work or play on His computer, or into the living room while SIR enjoyed some television or a movie for the evening. If the pig wasn’t blindfolded, it was turned to face SIR so it could watch SIR. If the pig couldn’t see, SIR would might turn it to face the television in an absurd head game for the pig as if to say “If SIR allowed it see, it would actually be able to watch the show” which of course, it never was.
The pig was often present while SIR was on the computer or watching the television serving as a footrest, as a side table holding SIR’S drink or snacks, or just as a place to rest SIR’S hand, but mostly just simply because SIR wanted His property around him, for no other reason than that.
At the moment though, the exhausted pig slowly and carefully maneuvered itself onto the kneeling seat and with a fair amount of struggling to reach behind itself to lock its ankles to the platform, all it really wanted once SIR arrived home, was for it to be allowed to lay down and maybe sleep a little. Well, maybe to drink some food and water too. That was then that the pig finally realized that it never looked at the time on its way to the front door, and even though it generally knew when SIR would arrive home after a work event, the pig had no idea how long it was going to have to sit there and wait. it chuckled to itself, or at least it thought it did as pig realized that it was perfect. One way or the other, the pig was always waiting for its Owner. For those brief moments in time when He would allow the pig to share a space with Him giving the pig the reason for its existence.
