牛蜀黍的汤不热

Here is one of my favorite stories:

Mansion by the Lake My new lakeside property was a small cottage – nothing too beer commercial-ish, but it would serve for weekends of partying and enjoying some time away from the city. I was lucky in that the lake was small and there were no powerboats on it. Most of the land on the lake, as well as the surrounding area was all crown land, so I didn’t worry much about trespassers or anyone else for that matter. The road in was a long dirt road that took almost 30 minutes of driving before it even hit one of the main back roads. My only neighbor was all the way across the lake, albeit in a rather sizable mansion that towered over the northern view of the water. I had spent the first few months fixing up the place – it was old and mouldy but with a few weeks worth of work looked almost brand new.

It was about the start of June, when we had one of our usual Northern-Ontario heavy rainstorms. It started with huge gusts of wind, and was followed by a night of spectacular rain, thunder and lightning. The power went off relatively early, so I spent most of the night watching the thunder from my porch before I got cold and went to bed. I loved the sound of the rain rattling on the roof, and the thunder from inside my warm blankets.

Waking up in the morning, however, it became clear that the rain had been more fierce than I thought – there were branches and leaves everywhere – clearly the trees had gotten quite the shake. The power was still out, and taking a walk up the road, I could see that the power lines had been absolutely felled by several trees which had been completely knocked over. The was no way to drive over them either, and it would be several solid hours of walking before I would see another vehicle, let alone be in cell phone range.

Then I thought of my neighbor, his house used a separate road, and he might still have power. At the very least he might have a chainsaw that I could use to cut the logs off the road. I took a walk all the way around the property to his side of the lake. As I got closer I saw repeated “no trespassing” signs all over the property. A few hundred meters out, when the property opened up into a clearing, the huge looming mansion came into view. There was a van parked out front as well as a truck, so I could only assume that the owner was home, but the lights were all dark. Even worse, a large barbed wire fence surrounded the area. A sign on it read that it was electrified.

I followed the fence to the front gate and saw that there was a large intercom. I tried hitting the buzzer but no sound came out of it. I thought perhaps his power was off so I tried touching the gate. No effect!

Suddenly, I heard a strange moan come from the direction of the house. I looked around and saw a dark figure come stumbling out of the front door. It seemed to be hugging itself and walking in a stilted fashion.

“Hello?”, I shouted.

Another moan responded, and as the figure came closer I could see that he was dressed head to toe in black rubber. He appeared to be in a black rubber straitjacket, and a muzzle covered his face. He “ran” directly up to the gate and did a strange little dance.

“Are you ok?”, I asked.

He shook his head, no.

“Do you need help?”

He nodded.

I opened the gate, and he sped out of there, past me, down the road, back towards my place. I caught up with him and slowed him down. I tried to unbuckle the muzzle but found that it was actually locked on! From the looks of it… all the rubber gear he was wearing was held in place with a lock. I struggled to see if I could open it, but to no avail.

“Its locked – are there keys inside?”

He shook his head violently. I could see panic in the eyes, this guy really wanted out.

“Ok… I might have some tools back at my place, are you ok to go in there?”

The rubber guy nodded quickly.

I brought him into the cottage and quickly shut the door behind me. I took a brief look outside but no one seemed to be around. I guided my guest to a chair and sat him down. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and said: “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The second my hand touched the rubber I noticed how smooth it felt and I suddenly was aware of the odor of latex just steaming off of the poor guy. I quickly snapped back into reality, realizing that I had been gently stroking his shoulder, taking in the texture, and that he was probably terribly frightened already. Being in such a vulnerable position, he probably would not appreciate it in the slightest.

“You’re going to be OK,” I said reassuringly, hoping that would ease him a bit.

I pushed other thoughts aside and ran down to the basement to find some tools. I opened up the toolbox and immediately found a pair of scissors, I held them for a second and then thought that maybe he wouldn’t want me cutting him out of that outfit, but rather would want me to get the locks off. No way would I be able to pick it, but I did have a set of bolt cutters that would work. I grabbed them from the wall and ran upstairs.

“Hold still a second, bud,” I said. “I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy!”

I first clipped the lock holding his muzzle on, and unstrapped it from his face. I then unbuckled the ball gag underneath.

“Thanks so much!” he blurted out. “Please… get me out of this thing!”

“Ok… no problem, I’m working on it.”

I hastily clipped the rest of the locks running down the straitjacket, the ankle restraints, and the harness that I discovered he was wearing underneath it all. I piled it all on the table next to me. My guest stood up and stretched, the tight rubber creaking all around him. He pulled the mask off and I could see that he was no older than I was, maybe about 27 or 28.

“Please get the zipper in the back,” He said, and I unzipped the suit. He pulled his shoulders and arms out, sweat spilling out onto the floor. He must have been in there for some time. Gloves, boots, even rubber toed socks came off and were piled together. He stood before me naked, drenched in sweat.

“Thank you… I thought I’d never get out of there,” he sighed, sounding quite relieved. “My name is Matt.”

“Ok Matt, I’m Ryan,” I held my hand out and we shook. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a towel and some clothes. There’s a shower in the bathroom if you like.” I came back a moment later with a towel and a set of jeans and a t-shirt.

“Again, thanks. Do you have a phone?”

I shook my head, no. “The storm took out the phone and cable. I was without power until this morning.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve been pretty incommunicado for the last month. I imagine there are some people pretty worried about me.”

“Oh?” I was burning with curiosity already, but didn’t want to push. “Is everything ok, I mean… well this just isn’t a usual way of meeting people. Do you live down the lake?”

Matt wrapped the towel around his waist. “I’m fine – really. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can give you a ride into town after you shower up, we’ll have to wait until the county guys get here to clear the road, I’m afraid. There’s some fallen trees blocking it.”

Matt nodded carefully, taking a look out of a nearby window. “That would be great. Sorry if I seem a bit sketchy.”

“No problem. Those clothes should fit you just fine – you look like you’re pretty much the same size as me. They’re just old clothes for kicking around in so it’s really no problem.”

I put the pot on for coffee and then saw him to the bathroom. He closed the door and the shower started running. Where did this guy come from? Obviously he was up to some kind of bondage thing in that outfit, and he seemed a bit embarrassed. He really didn’t need to – I had seen pictures like that on the Internet and was highly curious about it. He did also seem a bit scared, and that only served to deepen my curiosity. I had never even seen my neighbor and this guy didn’t seem to live on the lake. This raised the question if maybe another person was back at the house, also in some kind of trouble.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of joe. Sipping at it I returned to the table and saw the pile of black, slimy rubber lying flaccidly on the table. I grabbed the suit and shook it out a bit. As the suit made a low rumbling noise, almost a little like thunder. Sweat dripped out of the legs and dribbled onto my shoe. The scent of sweat and latex together was overwhelming, slightly sickly but inviting and familiar. I could feel an erection forming. I slid my hand into the armpit of the suit just letting it glide a little bit into the arm. Lubed with sweat I could feel the now cold, smooth rubber gripping around my hand and forearm, I felt as if I could just slide right in, it was practically sucking me right in –

I heard a cough from nearby and saw Matt standing there. He was freshened up considerably and now dressed in normal clothes. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. I turned a bit red and tried to pull my arm out quickly as I lay the suit back on the table. Half of it flopped down but it was obviously stuck to my forearm.

“I made coffee,” I said quite feebly, obviously embarrassed.

Matt chuckled a little. “It’s ok. I get it.”

He walked into the kitchen and found the coffee pot and mug that I had set out for him. He poured himself a cup. He took a sip. “Are you into rubber?”

“Well… I mean I’ve seen photos on the Internet,” I waffled, not sure what to say.

“What sort of photos?” he grinned.

“Photos of men looking pretty much like you did about five minutes ago,” I blushed. “Some of the heavier ones where they looked like the gimp in Pulp Fiction, I always wondered what it was like to be that guy.“

“Have you ever done anything with it?” Matt casually sipped at his coffee.

I thought about it for a second. I had spent a fair bit of time perusing some fetish sites on some lonely nights, but never really thought seriously about it. “Well I guess that I thought that it was something that weird people did. Dangerous people. I wasn’t ready to find out the hard way that I couldn’t trust them.”

“Understandable…. Believe me… completely understandable,” he smiled an odd smile, and sat down at the table, looking casually out the window, across the lake to my neighbor’s house. “You can try that stuff on if you like.”

I pulled my hand out quickly and it felt cold in the open air. “I couldn’t really…”

“Why not?” he frowned, as if I said something completely absurd. “Listen man, you can have it. All of it. I’m not going to put it on again.”

I should have sensed something was wrong, but my ears were hot and just hearing the idea of being inside the suit made me instantly rock hard. My cock was begging to be let out of my jeans. Seeing Matt wearing my jeans and a t-shirt, the same muscular build, the same height, he was obviously my size, I would have no problem fitting into the rubber. I thought about how he looked when I first laid eyes on him, embodying a fantasy that I barely knew I had. Now the idea was just burning a hole right through me.

Matt must have been reading my mind. “Look, we’re obviously the same size. Just go for it, I’ll help you out. “

I hesitated for a second, but before I could stop myself I was peeling off my shirt. “So… what is your story anyway? How did you end up here?’

Matt took another glance across the lake. For a split second I thought I saw someone walking on the property, but I wasn’t sure. Matt didn’t seem concerned.

“Well, I work at a bar in Toronto, I’m going to school part time. Pretty regular sort of life really… as you might have guessed I also had an interest in fetish and bondage. Just like you, I read about it on the internet and became a little obsessed. Mostly just obsessed with looking at pictures and reading stories.”

I peeled off my underwear, revealing my hard cock dripping with precum and picked up the suit. Matt stood up picking something up off the table. “You should really put on the cock sheath. Trust me, your cock feels better in the suit surrounded by another layer of rubber. Here, I’ll help you out.”

The rubber sheath slid right over my package and tightened like a cock ring at the base. I bobbed my cock up and down once, and felt it grow inside. The rubber confines stretched around my member, looking sleek and black. Matt then picked up the suit, shook it back out into shape and held it open before me.

“Climb on in!” He chirped with a smile. I put one foot in, and then the other. Matt pulled it up around me, and it could feel the perfect fit sliding up my legs. An electric tingle ran up my body as it hugged me tight. “…so anyway… I actually lurked on a couple of the sites for a long time. I didn’t post a photo for almost a year, and when I did I immediately got tons of hits.”

“I don’t blame them. You’re pretty cute.”

“Heh thanks. You’re not bad yourself, man,” Matt said as he tugged the rubber up onto my hips. “There really isn’t much of a rubber community in Toronto – from the internet it seems like it’s all in other countries. I really sold myself on the idea that I wanted to try experiencing a true, inescapable session of total rubber enclosure and slavery, at least for a little while. Really, finding sane people into that kind of thing is really hard.”

I slid my arms into the sleeves and pushed forward. The rubber came up onto my shoulders and greased with sweat started clinging to my chest. Matt zipped up the back and the entire suit seemed to tighten around my back, shoulders and neck. I moved around a bit, my skin feeling more alive than I had ever known it. I felt ready to come right through the suit and knock a wall down with the force of it.

“This is awesome!”

“I know!” Matt laughed. I started feeling myself all over. “Have a seat!”

I sat down and Matt picked the socks off the table. “Trust me, it’s better when it’s all over you. If you like that – you’re gonna love this.”

Matt started working the rubber socks onto my feet. He then slid the boots on. They took a minute to lace up as they ran practically up my entire shin. An ankle restraint was then buckled on overtop. I stood up, walking around, feeling it move on my body.

“Anyway, so I finally talked to this one guy online. Sounds like he’s a dedicated rubberist. He definitely had a ton of gear in his photos. Sounded pretty sane and definitely wanted to get into a lot of the same stuff that I was into. So I arranged a time and place to meet – local bar, nothing fancy.”

Matt worked up the tight elbow length gloves onto my arms and buckled the wrist restraints on. He picked up the harness: “You want to try this?”

Thinking of the many photos I’d seen of rubber gimps that were clad in a similar harness how could I say no? I wasn’t locked in after all. I nodded my head. He started strapping it on me.

“Awesome. Man, this looks great on you, I think even better than it looked on me,” Matt said, admiring his handiwork. “So I met this guy, and turned out to be pretty down to earth, used to be a doctor, now he just plays the stocks all the time – never loses. We met at a hotel a couple of times and he let me experiment with different types of gear, seemed really enthusiastic, and I’ll admit he pushed my limits in the best way possible.”

“Sounds great! Where do I find this guy?” I joked. Matt pulled the mask from the table, and without asking stepped behind me and pulled it over my head. The feeling of it tightening around my face was indescribable. I felt my identity slip away. “I have got to see a mirror.”

“One second, you need a finishing touch,” Matt grabbed the collar from the table and buckled it onto my neck. I felt instantly more submissive, like a rubbered thing. I walked to a mirrior hanging in the doorway and was surprised at the black alien figure staring back at me. I thought I couldn’t get any hornier, but my cock just seemed to grow harder and harder. I had become that rubber gimp I always fantasized about. Well, sort of… no one was tying me up in this gear.

“You look great, really great,” Matt exclaimed. Even he seemed excited. I was running my rubbered hands all over my body. I couldn’t believe the sensation. I wandered back by the table. A few stray pieces of gear still lay on the table, one of them quite formidable. I took a cautious breath.

“Oh, the straitjacket,” Matt nodded. He picked up and held it up. “Maybe you don’t want to get into that. It’s a bit much all at once. You can kind of get into a bit of a frenzy where you just want everything on you at once.”

“I’ll say!”, I laughed.

Matt took another glance out the window. “What the heck right? It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere on you. You said yourself the road is blocked.”

I shrugged, thinking far too much with my pecker and not thinking for a second about the dangerous territory I was skirting. I held my arms out and he draped the straight jacket over them. He moved around the back and zipped up the rear of the jacket, and started pulling buckles on the back tight.

“Where was I? Oh yeah… so finally we meet one weekend and he gets me totally rubbered up, head to toe, pretty much like you are now. This was the usual for us by this point. Only instead of going to the hotel, we decided to go to his house, as it had his entire and extremely sizable gear collection.”

Matt pulled my arms across my body, buckling them in place. A strap come over the front providing them no movement. A crotch strap tightened on my inner thighs and there was no way I could get out of this jacket on my own. My temperature seemed to skyrocket and I could feel my own sweat filling the suit. I tried to move but all I felt was rubber grinding on rubber. I was positively elated.

“So we get up there and he leads me down to his basement, it’s a dungeon. I mean a real dungeon. If there’s a weird bondage contraption you’ve seen online – he’s got it. Most importantly it’s got a real cell and the door opens only with a key code that he knows, some kind of electric, digital lock gizmo. I was totally excited for a real bondage session with this guy; I’d been having such a great time. Then he starts talking about control, and taking total control over me, making me a 24/7 rubber slave, at least eventually. I don’t mean starting slow and working up to 24/7 – I mean he wanted to start at 24/7 but I was supposed to be less than a slave – that was what he wanted me to work up to.”

Suddenly I started coming back to reality. Why did I feel like his story was taking a turn for the worst? “Matt, why don’t I like where this is going?”

Matt led me to the couch, carrying the rest of the gear with him. He sat me down.

“Well, for starters…” He pinched my nose unexpectedly, but instinctually I opened my mouth. He shoved the red rubber ball gag in and buckled it behind my head. I tried pushing it out with my tongue but to no avail. I tried to sit up but Matt sat on my lap, pinning me. He slipped the muzzle over my head and quickly strapped it all on tightly. I shook my head side to side screaming into the gag, but it was obvious that the sound was far too muffled, and we were far too isolated. Matt grabbed my chin and held it still.

“Shhhhhh… You see I didn’t want to be a 24/7 anything except being a student. It was way too much, but he never even gave me the opportunity to say ‘no’. I was his rubber THING for over a month, held in that dungeon. Oh, there was some horny times, yeah, but I wanted my life back. I had almost given up hope on the idea when the power went out. He must have been asleep when it happened. I think some kind of safety feature opened up the electronic locks and I was able to walk right out the door – and into your arms. This is the first time I’ve worn anything but rubber in all that time. Oh, and since you asked where you could find this guy – well, he’s looking in the window right now!” Startled, I looked behind me to the window out to the deck and saw a tall, muscular, bald man, probably in his late forties. He was dressed like a biker but all in rubber, aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes. His face was cold and expressionless. Matt pulled me up to my feet.

“Boy,” the man’s voice was deep and commanding. I got an instant chill. “Did you really think you’d get away?”

Matt stood his ground. “Sir – I’m done. I don’t want this anymore. It was dumb luck that I got away and you won’t get me that easily again without a real fight. I’m not stupid – I won’t go telling anyone about this. I just want to go home and go back to my life. I’ll call it a fun misadventure.”

“You think it’s just that easy, Boy?” the man snarled.

“Maybe not. Maybe I’ll want to come back to you. I doubt it. I’ve had enough,” Matt’s voice trembled. He too was genuinely afraid. Me… I was shaking. “I’ve found a replacement though. He’s hungry for it – more than I was, I think. I’ll give him to you and that makes me an accomplice. Then we’re both happy. You know I can’t turn you in, and I can leave.”

I started shrieking hysterically inside my rubber prison. I tried to make a break for it, running past the rubber man as he stepped into my cottage. He snapped an arm out and caught me by the neck. His other hand went directly to my cock and he gripped my still hard member.

“Mmmm,” he growled. “He’s horny. Very horny.”

“You see?” Matt pleaded. “He’s perfect, Sir. Take him with you – he can be your new slave or whatever the fuck it is you want. I’m going to take a long walk into town, and catch a bus back to Toronto. You’ll have your hands full starting your…. Training all over again.”

The man sniffed me like the bouquet of a fine wine. “Ok boy. You have a deal. Don’t think I won’t come looking for you eventually. We have unfinished business.”

The man pulled a leash out of his pocket and clipped it to my collar. He started pulling me out the door, and down the road to his house. “Alright boy, I guess it’s you and me now. You and I are going to have to work very hard over the next couple of days sorting a few things out.”

I pulled as best I could but I had no leverage at all. What was even worse was that a part of me I think really wanted to go with him. Either way, I was about to find out the rubber horrors that lay beyond the dark windows of that mansion by the lake.

I was practically dragged by the neck all the way down the road. Completely unable even to look back to see the safety of my home quickly falling away from me, nor able to see the treacherous man that I tried to help, I could only focus instead on the house quickly looming over me. The windows of the house seemed black and empty, hungry even and I was utterly panicked but unable to fight in any way at all.

As we entered the front gate, my captor paused for a moment to shut the gate and flipped a switch. There was a humming noise and I could only assume that the fence was now electrified. Presumably it had been knocked out by the same storm that had affected the power at my cottage earlier. Even if I was able to get out of my rubber prison, there was at least one more obstacle that I would have to plan to get past.

We entered through the front door, and I only had a few seconds to notice the opulence of the interior – clearly my captor was a man of considerable means given the nature of the interior décor. It was a very classical design, riddled with antiques and art – somewhere beyond the scent of rubber I could smell the distinct odor of fine cigars and mahogany. All this was moot however as we raced through the first floor directly to a large metal door opening to a cellar. My captor punched in an elaborate code into a keypad on the door, and it unlocked with a heavy click. There followed another such door at a vestibule before entering the rest of the basement.

There were only a few rooms with the doors open where I could make out what was inside. One was a carefully-marked equipment room, in which I could make out several devices of torture, as well as rubber and leather clothing, gas masks and boots. Another was a gym of some kind although I didn’t recognize all of the equipment. The man was huge however, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a very particular regimen. We stopped at a door that opened into what could only be described as a cell. Inside were only a steel toilet, a steel sink, and a bench with a mattress, which also had a rubber mattress cover on it. I was sat down and my collar was clipped to a hook on the wall.

“Stay right here, boy,” the man said, and walked quickly out of the room.

I could hear him shuffling with something down the hall so I immediately started thrashing about trying to release myself. It was to no avail. The straitjacket provided me with absolutely no leverage at all, and the best that I could do was feel my rubbered arms sliding about in the smooth interior. There was no way to generate enough force or violence to be able to escape. I was completely trapped inside. I gave up and sat back panting for a few minutes before he returned carrying a box with several items inside.

He first dumped several padlocks out onto the bench beside me and locked the restraints on my legs before locking them together. Another lock was attached to my collar.

“You are not going to be able to walk anywhere in a hurry and your collar is locked to the wall,” my captor said. “I am going to take off your straitjacket; if you make any trouble you will regret it very quickly. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded. This man wasn’t going to take any chances and I would have to wait until later for a slip-up. He reached forward and unbuckled the straitjacket. He then applied locks to each of the buckles on my harness. My wrist restraints were removed but quickly replaced with a pair of rubber mitts rendering my hands completely useless. They too, were then locked together. He lit a cigar and stood before me, admiring his work.

“Alright boy, when you earn the right to speak, you will call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’”, he commanded. “I will call you whatever the fuck I want. As you may have guessed, yes, I kept your friend Matt here for some time. He might have told you it was against his will but I can assure you that he enjoyed it far too much for it to be involuntary. From the size of your hard-on I can only assume that you are much the same.

Number one, I have fixed the fail-safe in my backup generator, so even if the power is out, the doors will remain locked. They will not open automatically as before. The electric fence outside will remain electrified. Furthermore…”

“Master” removed a remote control from his pocket and pressed a button. An intense searing shock came from my collar and I was instantly immobilized. I screamed quickly but the cry was severely muffled by my gag and muzzle.

“I carry this with me at all times. Now that the power is back up on the fence you will be unable to walk more than 25 meters beyond without it triggering automatically. I have it set currently to the medium setting; however, walking outside the perimeter will automatically trigger it at the highest.

Obviously, I have quite the obsession with rubber. I have always wanted to have the ultimate rubber companion and have for years thought about the training and conditioning that I wanted it to have. I had already started an aggressive program with Matt, but he managed to escape before it took hold, thanks to nothing more than a simple power failure. I have already taken steps to ensure that it won’t happen again.

You might be able to escape from your restraints down here, but before you even reach the upstairs, you will be unable to make it past the electric locks on the doors. Do not think that I don’t want to have you upstairs with me – there is much that I want you to do up there, but for now this will be your world.

Right now you are only to be an object of pure rubbered physicality. Your body is mine to use and shape as I see fit. You are a pure Gimp for nothing more than my enjoyment and your training. As I see eagerness and obedience grow in you, I will start small, and eventually you will be in a position to start obeying more complex desires, in which case I will start training you as my Puppy. If you can learn the kind of devotion and obedience that I expect of a dog successfully then I may teach you how to be a Slave worthy of serving my needs, yet worthy of some greater levels of autonomy and expression, a chance to have some of yourself back. If you can earn those privileges you will eventually become my Boy, hopefully a rubber man who has finally realized all that I can teach and give him, and completely willing to continue to submit to my authority. I guarantee with each of these titles that you earn, you will find yourself glowing with pride.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I am speaking of your achievements possibly years down the line and you have only been here a few minutes. I’m sure that right now you are terrified and alone – and rightly so, this is an incredibly fearsome first step you have taken and not of your own will. I have some further preparations to make, so there is no time like the present to begin your conditioning. Come with me…”

He clipped a leash to my neck and unclipped me from the wall. We shuffled down the hall to a room full of different racks, elaborate chairs, slings, and crosses. I was sat down into a fearsome leather barber’s chair covered in straps. The D-rings on my collar, harness and restraints were all clipped in place and additional restraints added on. All the while my mind was racing – he intended me to stay here for years – forever really from the sounds of things, and indulge in some perverse education of his? I wanted to cry, I had never felt so helpless before.

“Now, I am going to get a look at my plaything. Don’t even try to speak or I will activate the collar.”

Master removed the muzzle, gag and mask. My head was dripping with sweat, it ran down my face and into my eyes. Master dried my head with a towel.

“Excellent. A fair trade for Matt if I may say so. You are a good looking boy, and I must say that rubber really does become you. Good thing, as it is all you are going to be wearing for some time. Matt had been wearing almost nothing but, for over a month – you should expect much longer before your skin is allowed to touch anything else.”

Master ran his hand through my hair, frowning.

“This hair is far too long, though, and not something that you have earned. It will have to go.”

From nearby, master pulled a set of clippers and without hesitation set to buzzing all of the hair from my head, long locks of it falling pathetically into my lap. These were quickly brushed aside and he swept up. He then held up a mirror for me to see. looked up I was shaved completely bald. I could hardly recognize myself at all. For a second I thought that someone else was looking back. He was right though, seeing myself bound completely in rubber my horniness came back with a vengeance. I’ll admit, I’d fantasized about similar scenarios, but the reality of it was utterly terrifying. I blamed it on blind nervous energy. I’d heard before about soldiers that experienced erections during battle for the same reason.

“Not bad,” Master said. “Normally I like a nice crew cut or a high-and-tight on my boy, but you will earn that look in time. For now the tactile experience of a regularly shaved head will allow you to enjoy THIS…”

With that he forced a gas mask with a rubber hood over my face. It was already lubed on the inside allowing it to slide directly on, despite how tight it was. Some kind of internal gag forced its way into my mouth. It was pumped up and I could feel the bit swelling in my mouth. Tubes fit directly into my nostrils. Earbuds almost naturally fell into my ear cavity and a white noise could be heard starting up. Master unzipped my cock and placed what felt like a large suction device of some kind up to it, with a slow rhythm starting to slowly jerk me off. A trolley with several TV monitors was rolled up in front of me and switched on. A sweet scent started to pump into the gas mask, though the air seemed clearer somehow. The screens flickered to life with videos of rubber and bondage pornography playing on each.

Master’s voice came into the earbuds.

“Just lie back and enjoy the show, boy. Don’t fight it. I will be monitoring closely. This is the first of many such sessions that I will expect you to complete, so try to adjust yourself accordingly. I will be back soon – don’t worry, I have your breathing on a monitor which will alert me if there is a problem.”

Scene after scene of erotic rubber pleasure played before me. The suction of the device rose and fell, never quite seeming to bring me to climax. I would get so close and then be denied as the system slowed itself down. A constant mesmerizing beat played slowly in my ear.

Even more horrifyingly, scenes showing removal from bondage, removal of rubber, or even normal sex, normal life were met with a series of painful shocks from the collar. My earbuds would play a harsh, erratic tone. I made the connection quickly – I was to associate only pleasure with being a rubber gimp, and a complete aversion to anything else. I was only to enjoy being his rubber plaything, and any other thoughts were to be pushed aside.

The first of many such sessions? How many is many? A month was not enough to keep Matt from escaping and that was only after he was given a miracle opportunity of Master’s elaborate security breaking down. Surely Master would be planning for this too – so how long would this phase of training continue? A month? Two months? A year?

At some point I passes out of sheer exhaustion.  I was not sure how long I had been out or asleep.  I remained quiet thinking that it would buy me some more quiet rest time. Initially, the house seemed very quiet. Was Master also sleeping?  Was he even in the house?  The ear buds continued to put white noise in my ear and it was difficult to hear anything else.  I wondered how much time it had been.  

I focused on my situation. I felt pretty sure that my life was not in danger if I cooperated and went along with Master.  He had clearly outlined what he was looking for and at no time made any threats to my life.  His only threats assured that there was going to be no way out of this situation.

I started thinking about Matt.  How he must have blindly gotten in over his head.  Why didn’t he warn me about this situation?  My anger grew as I thought about how he seemed to be seducing me into the rubber gear.  Anger at myself for being seduced and at him for goading me on.  Did he have this substitution planned all along?  Was he going to leave me hear or was he going to bring someone and help me out?  The more I thought about Matt the angrier I became.  

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted.  I could hear a loud commotion over the white noise from the buds still in my ears. There was a loud slamming of a door. Outside noise continued. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! The noise got louder and seemed closer.  It now sounded like something was being dragged down a stairway. I counted the ‘thumps’ and they were equal to the number of steps on the stairway I came down into the dungeon.  

The next sound was like someone rattling a chain.  

I remained as motionless as possible.  But the device that monitored my breathing gave me away.

“Good morning boy!” Masters loud booming voice startled me and drowned out the ear buds.  

“I will start your training in a little while as soon as I have taken care of some other business!”

I could hear him going about his business with the other person or object that he had.  I could not be sure what he was dealing with.  Not being able to tell time it seemed like about an hour that he continued with the new object he just brought in.

“I am taking your mask off to let you eat some breakfast! I want you to remain completely quiet.  No one can here you from down hear so it is useless to make any noise and it only serves to irritate me!”  Master indicated.  “You will eat regular meals when I serve them.  Don’t even think of a hunger strike as that will just get you a feeding tube!”  

The bacon, eggs and pancakes were fed to me by Master.  I was surprised that it actually was a pretty good meal.  Juice was served thru a straw from time to time as I need it to was down what was in my mouth.  

“SIR! THANK YOU, SIR!” I instinctively stated when I was full.

“AH—That is a good boy, but you didn’t listen to my directions to not talk!”  Master indicated.  “You only talk when I ask you to!”

I gave an affirmative nod.

“When I am done cleaning up your breakfast, I will start your training for today!”  Master indicted.  

He collected all the breakfast dishes and left the room.  I was surprised that he left me without a mask on.  I wondered if this was and oversight on his part or part of some kind of test, he was putting me thru.  

Soon he returned with a mask that he had turned inside out.  It had two tubes to go into my nostrils and a mouth piece for me to bit down own.  It hurt as the tubes went into my nostrils.  I hated that part more than the rest of the training program.  The mask was very snuggly in place.  I took a deep breath.

“Good boy!”  Master complimented with a pat on my shoulder.  

I was in a rubber suit that exposed my crotch area all the time.  A suction device was now applied and other equipment was brought in to continue my training.  The training seemed to be relentless.  Continuously being brought to almost climax and then a shock or other distraction to deny my pleasure.  The training session seemed to last for hours.  I noted that Master seemed to be very attentive during this session.  He seemed to be taking little cues from me to modify the training as needed.  

“Some break time for you!” Master indicated.  “You look like you need a rest.”  

He placed a condom catheter on my dick.  

“There is a bed pan under ya if you need to use it!”  Master indicated.  

All of the other training equipment was removed from my room.  I was allowed to have a rest period.  

Either he forgot or deliberately left out the ear buds.  I could hear a TV on in another room with FOX news on.  I laughed to myself thinking that this certainly was his worst form of torture.  It did give me some clues about what date and time it was.  

I could hear Master in another room.  

“I could not trust you! Your training will continue from where we left off and even intensified to deal with the current situation.” Master stated.  He was talking to someone else.  It must be Matt.  Who else could it be?  

As I relaxed in the sling, the condom cath came in handy as I needed relief.  But I could not get myself to use the bed pan.   I seemed to be having a mental block with it.  I felt I had to go but just could not do it in the current circumstances.  

Occasionally I heard Matt’s moans from the other room.  Master’s words seemed soothing and encouraging but each time he spoke Matt would let out yet another moan as if he was in extreme agony.  

I had mixed feelings about Matt.  My anger at how he tricked me and sold me out rejoiced in every minute of suffering that he had to endure.  Also, as long as Master was occupied with Matt, I was getting a break.  Yet something deep inside me still had some empathy for Matt and what he was enduring.  The training and conditioning that we both had to endure. My turn came soon enough.

“Nothing yet!”  Master indicated as he picked up the bed pan. “Looks like I will need to use something more drastic!”  

Master walked out of the room with the bed pan.  My feeling of relief was short lived when he returned to the room with a piece of equipment.

“This machine will fuck the shit out of ya!”  Master indicated.  

An eight-inch-long and 2-inch diameter dildo was fastened to the rod of the fuck machine.  Master put some lube to my button and made some slight penetration as he applied it.  He then expertly positioned the machine in a way that the dildo was slightly penetrating my ass.  As he turned the machine on it slowly penetrated deeper inside me.  Checking that everything was functioning properly Master turned up the setting.  

“That should fuck the shit out of ya!”  Master declared as he left the room.  

Even though I was focused on my own ass, I could again hear Matt moaning in the next room.  

Master returned to slightly increase the speed on my machine.  

It was becoming unbearable. The relentless pounding on my prostate was driving me to a point I had never been to before.  It was on that thin line between agony and ecstasy.  It felt like I was going to explode.  Shit began to spew out of my hole about the same time that I was shooting a load into the condom catheter.  

But the machine kept on as if nothing had happened.  It felt like my hole was being ravaged to no end.  I had to let out a big moan as my ass was being torn up by the relentless pounding.  

Master entered the room. I felt relief thinking he would turn the machine off now.  To my surprise he only turned it to a slightly lower speed and let it continue to pound at a more bearable rate.  Tears were streaming down the side of my face now.  It was agonizing ecstasy like I had never felt before.

Life of A Drone:

A subject enters the last phase of the transformation process, tended by a corporate drone. Physical changes have been applied, mental conditioning embedded within its pliant mind; all that remains is to trigger the final stage.

This weekend we’re hosting out of town guests. 2 couples, and their boys/slaves. One from Georgia and one from Tennessee. The world of Leathermen is actually pretty small. We all know or know of each other.

In both cases, the slaves have regular outside jobs and live in a triad situation. One of the three being just more submissive. This weekend will be their first exposure to gimps. Owning one is exceptional, owning two is unheard of.

Our friends have many questions, and since they do, for everyone else who wants to know how this works, I’ll share the structure of our situation.

My partner … And I are legally married. He works in his family’s business, a string of successful stores and I’m an analyst who works from home. Both of us pull a very healthy salary. So first of, there is always someone here to watch over the gimps, as I am here.

Slavery isn’t cheap. The cost of leather, toys, restraints, food medication grooming products etc etc. Just because it’s a gimp locked in a leather suit restrained in your basement doesn’t mean you don’t have to take care of it.

We live out of Mobile on what was a larger property and in a historic home. The gimps have a job, and pay taxes and still maintain bank accounts and what not. To the outside world they are normal human beings.

They are both employed by us as live in gardeners and caretakers. Because they exist as working adults below the poverty line they qualify for subsidized ACA healthcare. So yes they have insurance. Which is important. But this is still Alabama, and extremely prejudiced towards LGBT people.

To get around that we found a concierge doctor service who comes to us. The doctor is very open minded and as they are a visible minority, they are very understanding of our situation. And this is important as both gimps are on Prep as prevention. We all are.

We refuse to stigmatize someone’s status as being a precursor to playing with potential partners. We’re married but we’re also honest that we don’t expect to get everything we need from one person. Where appropriate we practice safe sex, but for the most part we are both free to live out our sexual fantasies with the others support. Though with the gimps we are finding less and less reason to step outside our relationship to find what we are looking for.

One of the couple’s coming this weekend is positive. All three of them. They are all on meds, healthy and undetectable and they will make use of the gimps. And it’s fine. They are undetectable and the gimps are on Truvada which is covered by their insurance that we pay for.

There is money left over every month in the gimps bank account. Technically it’s mine, but we just let the accounts build. For that day, which may never come, if and when they decide they want to leave. They won’t be leaving destitute with no way to live until they can support themselves.

Remember they are here of their own free will, and as such are free to leave whenever they want. They have both signed a contract, which is unenforceable by law, but to a master and a slave the mental bond of a signed contract is far stronger than any legal one could ever be. The contract has renewal periods and the slave must freely decide to renew or to walk away.

So to those dominant tops who want to own a slave, remember you are responsible for his well being. And for you submissives who dream of a life of slavery, remember in the end it’s your body and you have a right to decide how it is used. We Masters take the power you relinquish to us. It is just that simple.

While KinkyNBama writes about slavery and kidnapping and the most extreme parts of fantasy, what we write about is not an accurate portrayal of Who We are.

My Master is a stickler for details. The lists and schedules that now define my life reinforce this, and that he is in total control of me: mind, body, and spirit. From our first encounter there was no doubt who was in charge. During initial discussions, he was very careful to allow me enough leeway to ascertain that I was committed to the choice I was about to make, but the contract that I would eventually sign would be ironclad, literally, and there would be no returning to my previous station once the document was signed. There were three meetings planned.

The first was in his living room, our initial face-to-face encounter after weeks of communication by e-mail. My first sight of him put me at ease.

Even before he spoke, there was wisdom and stability in his demeanor.

He offered me water, nothing else. We sat opposite each other on a large, soft sofa. We were both cautious, but both equally sure of speech.

He had many questions regarding my current situation and how I would be properly taking care of what he called loose ends. He wanted to make sure that I didn’t owe any money to anyone, or have any personal or legal ties that would interfere with transferring me into his keeping.

Slaves can be allowed very few expectations - it is the nature of slavery.

But he was willing to assure me that I would be kept healthy and clean.

The details of my servitude I would learn later, but there were three elements that were nonnegotiable… 1. I would effectively “disappear” permanently from my current existence, 2. I would be kept in naked bondage at all times, and 3. The arrangement would be permanent!

There were no pretenses, there was no physical contact; we talked only, and I was allowed to say anything and ask any questions. After a couple of hours of talking, we set the date of the next encounter, and I left, letting myself out. The second meeting would be in his dungeon. I would be allowed to see my future quarters, to view the bondage and training equipment, to study the contract I would be signing and, once again, to ask questions and clear up any doubts I had. We lived in the same town.

I had ridden the bus to the nearest stop, a few blocks from his house. I didn’t want to leave. I knew he was the one and I was ready to begin my slavery journey, but there was much work and introspection to be done. I would learn more as time passed of his thoroughness, his caution, and his dogged attention to endless details. His attitude toward my bondage was simple - once in, never out. We were both serious about this. For years I had fantasized endlessly about that click of the lock that would permanently “bind” me to my Master’s dungeon floor or wall. I even fantasized the collar or cuffs being welded or riveted into place. The bondage we were considering was permanent and we must both be very sure of our commitment. And so, during our second encounter, although

I was required to strip before entering the dungeon, there was no physical contact between us. The dungeon was in his basement. Simple wooden stairs led down from his kitchen. I followed him as directed. We reached the bottom stair and stepped onto a concrete floor. The basement was typical looking, long and narrow, a laundry area off to one side, numerous shelving units containing household supplies, tools, At the other end of the lengthy, rectangular room there was a large padlocked wooden door. Master stood to one side and had me stand and face the door. To this point he had not spoken. “This side of the dungeon door,” he spoke softly and slowly, “is something that you will only see twice!” I was engrossed in the massiveness of the door, the iron hinges, the solidity of it, and it took a moment for his words to register. I would see the door again for the last time on my third visit, at my incarceration.What lay behind the door would become my world, my existence.

Beside the door was a small table where I was instructed to leave my clothes. Master Rick stood patiently and watched as I removed my shirt, trousers, underwear, shoes and socks, and placed them neatly on the table. The floor was cold to my bare feet. My nakedness made the door seem larger. A simple cloth hood was placed over my head but left loose around my neck. I heard him unlock the door. He took my arm and led me in. I was instructed to take 5 short steps, then stand still. There was faint light coming from somewhere. Looking down, I could just barely see my toes from under the hood. The air was warmer inside the dungeon, the same concrete floor not as cold. I was then instructed to sit on the floor.

I sat cross-legged, my hands carefully placed on my knees, listening. The door closed behind me and I didn’t know if Master was in the room with me or not. I looked down at my dimly lit cock, which had been steadily achieving erection since I had walked through the wooden door. I knew instinctively not to touch. Master had made it clear in our first session that total control of my genitals, their pain, their pleasure, and all their functions, would be an essential component of my slavery! I wasn’t cold, but I shivered gently anyway from the solemnity of the moment! I lost track of time as one does in such situations. I tried to connect with smells and sounds as these were temporarily my only inputs. Other than the faint scent of leather, the air smelled clean. I became aware of some type of ventilation system gently and quietly circulating air - no other discernible smells - no other sounds - and only a very faint light evenly distributed around me.

The door opened and Master reentered - he HAD left me alone. He walked slowly toward me, stopping beside me. He removed the hood from my head and I saw for the first time my surroundings. I began to turn my head when Master said curtly, “Look straight ahead.” The back wall of the room was literally covered with every type of implement of bondage, restraint, and correction that one could imagine, all hanging from carefully placed hooks and arranged neatly. Soft spot light aimed downward cast a gentle but eerie light on the collection. There were the expected metal and leather restraint cuffs, handcuffs, leg-irons, metal and leather collars, spreader bars - several lengths - and one that looked adjustable; there was a shelf of dildos, some of metal, some of plastic, and a formidable one that looked like a policeman’s night stick, I assumed made of wood.

There were leather harnesses and straps lined up neatly, cleaned and polished to a fine shine. There were a group of shelves that held plastic storage boxes, the contents of which I could not discern. Master pushed me gently toward them the better to see. They contained an unbelievable collection of small clamps, connectors, locks, bits of chain and other assorted bondage paraphernalia - some I recognized - others I could only guess at their use. Master turned me around as he touched a switch on the wall.

The rest of the room became slowly flooded with gentle down light which came from recessed fixtures around the circumference of the otherwise dark ceiling. “I will leave you for a while now,” he said. “You may walk around, you may look, but you may not touch anything,” he added, and quickly left, closing and locking the door. I was certain that he would be watching me on a remote monitor and so I was uneasy as to what to do with my hands. I clasped them behind me and left them there as I walked around the room. Later on I knew that bondage would be employed to restrict my movements, including being able to touch myself, but now I would restrain myself voluntarily to demonstrate that I was earnest in this matter.

Yes, I was trying to impress him - we both still had the option of backing out of the deal. The point of no return for BOTH of us would be at the third encounter. The details of the transaction would be revealed to me later on, but it had been made clear to me that when I stepped through the door of this room again, if I chose to do so, it would be for the last time. For now, however, we were both still struggling with that final decision. He volunteered to me that he had never had a long-term slave. Like me, and most of us I assume, his encounters to date had been short - overnights, weekends, and a few week long encounters. Once he had a slave for a summer.

My longest session ever had been 4 days…all in blissful bondage. But he, like me, in his very core had always fantasized about a permanent situation, a full-time slave, true ownership, and TOTAL control. He, also like me, was fascinated by the idea of “permanent” bondage. I had spent many hours in self-bondage over the years, wearing leg irons, ball cuffs and the like, and pretending that someone else possessed the keys, engaging passionately in self-stimulation, and at the same time wishing there was someone in control who would not allow it; a Master who would allow me to ejaculate only at his whim, and according to his schedule; to be alternately “milked” mercilessly, then denied even an erection for weeks on end; or to be required to maintain constant erection, but NOT allowed to relieve it; to yield total control of my pain and pleasure to another! Now the prospect of my fantasies coming true caused me to shiver.

It wasn’t cold in the room, I was shivering from excitement. My cock continued to harden. The room was about 20 feet deep from the door to that back wall covered with implements and tools. It was wider by 1 or 2 feet, roughly square, with a polished concrete floor painted flat black. The ceiling was high, maybe 11 or 12 feet and completely black also. From its center, and from four more points equally spaced about the ceiling, there hung large metal rings, suspended on heavy lengths of chain about a foot down from the ceiling. I stared for a while at these rings.

They caught the light and stood out ominously against the opaque ceiling. They looked like they could hold an elephant I mused to myself, and I’m sure they’ll be holding me one day, I allowed myself to fantasize. The ceiling held the only lighting, a series of recessed fixtures circumvented the room and cast their light eerily downward, flooding the walls, and leaving the center of the room unlit by comparison. There was one more fixture in the center of the ceiling which looked like a traditional flood lamp, but it was not on.

I fantasized that it could be employed to spotlight the center of the room when something interesting was happening there! Everything I saw spurred rampant fantasies. My mind was racing. Every inch of me was tingling with excitement and childlike delight! The other three walls were basically bare except for numerous heavy iron rings positioned as various heights. I imagined myself chained to these rings, my legs stretched across the room and spread wide apart, a metal collar chained to the ceiling, arms stretched and chained to opposite walls! Chain and metal has always played heavy in my fantasies, and I could see easily that Master shared these fantasies with me. I could not have designed a more perfect dungeon to fit my bondage desires! I turned my attention now to the four corners of the room.

Each of the two back corners had large pieces of dungeon furniture. In one corner there were two items; a padded punishment horse, over which a slave could be stretched for whipping or ass-work, and, leaning against the back wall what seemed to be a portable work table or stretcher. It was basically a table top without legs, and it had holes around the outside edge, obviously for tying down a slave! I assumed that either it had attachable legs, or that it could be suspended from the ceiling when in use. The other back corner housed a traditional, but very elaborate leather sling. It was hanging from a hook high on the wall, but could obviously be moved to anywhere in the room as needed. In one corner along the door end of the room there was a commercial shower and wash area, a 3x3 concrete basin with 1 foot sides, and with a large drain in the center.

Overhead hung a hose with various attachments, one of which I was sure would be used to clean out my insides. There was a small shelf on the wall which housed what looked like enema equipment, soap, and other cleaning solutions. The corner walls behind the shower area had extra rings to which a slave could be attached and kept immovable. I fantasized being washed, shaved, and generally kept clean at this little corner facility.

There was no traditional toilet, and I assumed that this single drain would serve all my waste elimination needs. Near the shower area, at about crotch height, a single metal bar protruded about 18 inches straight into the room. It was obviously adjustable in height, but otherwise rigid. At its end was a heavy, chrome ring. The ring, upon closer examination had two halves which could be opened, but it was tightly screwed together with Allen screws - obviously a device for holding a slave’s balls and keeping him attached firmly to the wall at the same time.

Apparently the slave would straddle the bar with his back to the wall, and his balls would be encased by the heavy metal ring. There was but one corner left to explore. It alone was NOT well lit. Master had obviously wanted me to see it last. As I turned my attention toward its darkness and began to strain my eyes to see, a spotlight magically came to life and shined upon a metal cage.

Master WAS watching me and choreographing this whole scene remotely. The cage backed up against the corner, and as I examined it more closely, I could see that its bars were embedded in the concrete floor and that its two back walls were the walls of the room. It was a permanent fixture. Entry into the cage seemed to be on its top side. The whole top seemed to be on hinges, and there was an ominous hasp and lock on the side opposite the hinges. It looked awesomely stable and I longed to touch it. But I dared not.

Later on I might venture an occasional breaking of a rule in order to illicit the punishment I long for, but for now, I’d better not take any chances. After all, Master was watching. The cage was approximately four feet square. The bars, each at least two inches thick, were about five inches apart.

I could easily place my hands or feet through the bars. On the rear walls of the cage were numerous extra metal rings. I imagined me inside the cage, secured to the rear wall and with my feet and hands cuffed outside the bars. I wondered how much of my future time would be spend cramped inside this cage…would it be for occasional punishment only, or would it, in fact, be my new home? So far, as I have mentioned, Master only has spoken in generalities. “Details come later,” he always added secretively.

Of course, now as I took in all these dark and ominous surroundings, those details allured and tantalized me. My eyes reluctantly left the cage and followed along the side wall to a curious installment. Near the cage, about 3 feet from it, a single metal pole, about 4 feet in height, rose from the floor some six to eight inches away from the wall. There was an adjustable mechanism near its center, and a screw fitting at its top, obviously for attachments of some sort. It was bolted firmly to the concrete. There were two D rings welded on either side of it near the floor.

I literally shook, and for the first time, my hands came down to my side. I quickly put them up behind my neck. This was an impaler! I had seen these in online catalogs, and the photos had been a source of endless fantasizing.

The slave’s feet would be attached to the rings near the bottom. A dildo would be connected to the screw fitting on top, then adjusted upward and into the slave’s ass, impaling him and securing him immovably to the spot. Pre-cum dripped from my erect cock. I was mesmerized by this device and the fantasies it dredged up within me. Suddenly the door opened - my viewing session was over. I was instructed to sit on the floor again in the center of the room. I was handed an envelope with my name printed on it and the words, SLAVE CONTRACT!

A very bright overhead light came to life and I was instructed to read the document, taking as much time as I needed, and to indicate that I was finished by standing. I would be allowed to ask questions afterwards, but for now I was left alone again, with the envelope. Once again, the door was closed and locked! I sat naked on the floor and slowly opened the large brown envelope. Releasing the metal clasp, I removed the three crisp pages of the document that would define my future life. Thumbing through them I noted that there were numerous blanks to be filled in, and several places for both mine and Master’s signatures. I would be allowed as much time as I required to study it, but I would not get a copy to take with me as I had secretly hoped - and I dare not ask for this. I began to read…

SLAVE CONTRACT

To whom it may concern: The slave contract described herein is entered into on this ___ day of ___, in the year ___, and is entered into willingly and freely by the two parties involved. Upon signing, this contract is absolutely binding, and may not, under any circumstances, nor for any reasons, be either revised OR revoked. To this end, the Master, _____, and the slave, _____ both, with their signatures, will attest that the elements of this contract are understood and accepted. There are three components to this contract, each of which must be agreed to, and signed for the entire contract to be viable.

POINT ONE: The slave, ___ agrees to leave his former life, severing all ties, real or imagined, and to grant full ownership of his being, body and mind, to the Master, ___. Ownership shall be defined as follows: The Master will have total control and direction over the slave and shall own him outright. The slave will no longer have any rights or privileges other than those specifically granted by the Master. The slave will not make decisions or have opinions. The slave will not have possessions. The slave’s life and existence will be totally under the direction of the Master. The slave will be kept clean. The slave will be appropriately exercised, nourished and watered. Otherwise, the slave will have no guarantees and will exist completely at the Master’s disposal, and be guided and directed by the Master’s whim. With regard to POINT ONE, I, slave ___, do accept, and willing comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With regard to POINT ONE,

POINT TWO: The slave, ___ agrees that he will be kept completely naked perpetually; that he will never again be allowed to touch any part of his body with his hands or feet without the Master’s express permission and direction; that absolute control will be maintained over his genitals, body orifices, and ALL body functions; and, that various bondage implements, and restraints will be regularly employed to enforce these requirements. With regard to POINT TWO, I, slave ___, do accept, and willing comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With regard to POINT TWO,

POINT THREE: The agreement described herein, and entered into between slave, ___, and Master, ___, will be PERMANENT. It will not, and can not, ever be revoked or revised for any reason save the death of either of the parties involved. As a safety measure, two witnesses, who are associates of the Master, will witness and sign this document.

Both of these witnesses will have full access to the Masters house and property, and should the Master die, fall gravely ill, or for any other reason be unable to fulfill his portion of this contract, the witnesses shall assume joint ownership of the slave herein described, and they shall decide jointly as to his fate.

He may be moved to another residence, sold, or disposed of in any manner the witnesses find mutually acceptable. This agreement between the Master and the Witnesses is further outlined and attested to in a separate document, and is alluded to herein to allay any anxieties the slave might have regarding the future health of his Master. With regard to POINT THREE,

CONCLUSION: The involved parties, having thoroughly read and understood this entire contract, shall below affix their dated signatures, as guarantee of same, and that all parties fully accept the terms outlined herein:

After reading the entire document several times, I put it back into the envelope and laid it beside me. My thoughts were racing! Reading the contract was such a turn on. But I must be sure. I must be careful. I ran over and over in my mind, would I miss this, would I miss that? But my core slave self consistently took over.

My entire life had led me to this moment. I would go home and think some more before the THIRD ENCOUNTER, but I was sure that I was sure! I retrieved the envelope and stood up, and waited several minutes for his return.

The door opened and I was escorted out. I dressed at the small table beside the door. We went upstairs. I was offered water and asked if I had any questions or comments. I didn’t have questions, just an intense longing that totally consumed me. I looked him in the eye for some time. I needed desperately for him to touch me, to man-handle me, but that would come, according to his plan! He seemed to understand my need to search his eyes…for that is where the soul is. Perhaps his soul would mesh with mine…it certainly felt so. Perhaps I was making the right choice.

Ninety per-cent of me was sure. But I must be sure not to let my cock lead me into something that I would regret. I would have two weeks to wrestle with the other 10 per-cent. In one week I would return for the THIRD ENCOUNTER! I would strip, be bound, and become the permanent property of my new Master.

There was much to do, and much to think and fantasize about. I left his house and took the bus back to my apartment for the last time. We met, the four of us, in Master’s living room.

I eyed the two witnesses carefully, knowing that they were full participants in whatever future Master had planned for me, including inheriting me if Master died! After brief, perfunctory introductions, we moved to the dining table, Master indicating where each one of us should sit.

At my place there was that envelope I had seen on the last visit. My heart did the first of several leaps it would make over the next while…and so did my cock! They all sat the same way as if it were planned (perhaps it was)…their elbows informally laid on the table, their hands clasped before them, and gazing blankly, but seriously at me. I put my slightly trembling hands on the table on either side of the envelope, trying not to look too relaxed, and awaited instructions.

After a few moments of silence, Master produced a pen and laid it on the table beside him. Looking me right in the eye, he asked, “Are you prepared to sign the document?” “Yes…” I tried to say, but it stuck in my wndpipe and I only let out a pitiful squeak. Quickly clearing my nervous throat, I continued, “Yes Sir.” “Open it,” he said. I fumbled it open, laid the envelope aside and spread the contract out on the table before me. “Read it again,” he instructed. I did…

As I read through it carefully, for the last time before signing, pertinent words leapt off the page and sent pangs of both fear and excitement through my entire being: kept clean, Master’s whim, completely naked perpetually, absolute control over genitals, bondage implements, restraints… I made my way slowly through Point One, Point Two, Point Three, The CONCLUSION.

I was finished reading, but I hesitated for a few tense seconds, exercising my last little bit of control, but merely putting off the inevitable. I had already decided to sign. I swallowed deeply and slowly and, finally, looked up at Master indicating that I was through. He immediately handed me the pen. I took it in trembling hands and signed all the places indicated.

I pushed the document over toward him. He carefully inspected all of my signatures, signed it himself, and, in turn, passed it to the two witnesses. Their heretofore solemn faces now sported the slightest smiles. This had obviously been a tense moment for them too! But it was over. The contract was signed and witnessed and I was his and, in fact, theirs. “Wait here,” Master said to me, then escorted his two friends to the door. They spoke briefly and softly. I didn’t even try to listen. I was engrossed in my own briskly racing thoughts. What had I done? Was I sure? Too late! I could run. I was still dressed. I could “escape” out the back. But I sat and waited as commanded.

When he returned his demeanor was different. He looked at me sitting at the table. I thought that I should perhaps know what he expected, but I didn’t. “Stand up,” he commanded, not harshly, but firmly. He was taking command. This is what I had longed for. “Follow me,” he added tersely. I did. We stopped at the door to the basement. He turned to face me. I was following him so closely that I almost ran into him. Stumbling slightly, I regained my stance just in time, even though my knees had turned to butter! He put his hands on my shoulder to steady me. “Relax,” he said, “You’re doing the right thing.

Now, just trust me. Before we go downstairs,” he continued, “let me give you some instructions. Listen very carefully, you will only hear this once, and there will be no speaking for quite some time after this!” He paused. I regained my composure, looked at him longingly, and listened intently. I am his slave now, I thought. He owns me!

It felt good already, even though I didn’t know fully as yet what it meant. I would learn. “Initially,” he explained, “your captivity will consist of a transition period, with varying schedules and routines. You will lose track of time as you know it now. After this you will be settled into a regular, very detailed schedule. Nothing will ever be explained to you, you will never be made aware of anything other than what to do and when to do it.

You will learn through punishment and reward just what I like and what I expect, and when you have pleased me! There are two rules: 1. Never speak unless I tell you to!, and 2. Do what I say immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?” “Yes sir,” I said, and my cock stiffened. He allowed me to continue to gaze into his eyes. I knew in that moment that he would sense all my needs, that I would not need to ask questions! I would work so hard to please him, but I would also welcome punishment for not pleasing him. I shivered again with delight. He lowered his hands from my shoulders where he’d kept them. He reached around me, pulled me to him and hugged me reassuringly. I loved him. “Alright then,” he said, “come, it is time.

I followed him down the basement stairs. At the bottom of the stairs there was a 5 gallon plastic utility bucket, unmarked and covered with a lid, and a small black satchel. Motioning to them, he said, “Bring these along.” I picked them up, one in each hand, and we walked the length of the storage space and up to the huge wooden door. The small table where I had placed my clothes had been replaced by a garbage can with a plastic liner. At his instruction, I put down the bucket and the satchel and began to remove my clothes. Getting naked was always a rush for me, especially if someone was making me! This was the last time I would strip. I did it slowly, savoring the rush, welcoming the coolness against my skin, the cold floor against my bare feet.

Putting my clothes and shoes into the garbage sent me over the edge. My cock was totally stiff now. Master looked at my cock, then looked me in the eye and said, “We’ll have to get that under control, won’t we?” I shivered again. He swung open the large door. I picked up the bucket and the satchel, and followed him inside. He closed the door and secured it with a huge combination lock. There was the answer to one of my questions; if I changed my mind and wanted to escape, even if I were not otherwise bound,

I would not have the combination to that massive lock. I was completely caught now, naked and locked in his dungeon. My knees were butter again, I almost fell from the weight of my load. He directed me to put the bucket and the satchel down, took me under my arms for support and led me over to the cleaning area. He directed me to step into the wash basin. I noticed a single chain hanging down from over my head. He cuffed my hands with simple metal handcuffs. He then operated a mechanism on the wall beside us which lowered the ceiling chain. The handcuffs were attached to the chain and pulled up just over my head. “Kneel”, he said, and, with some difficulty, I did.

Pulling my head forward, he wet my hair with warm water. He sat down in front of me, took out a razor and began to shave my head. I was weak with the joy of it. He was cleaning and shaving me, getting me ready to be bound into his service. It was a delicious sensation to know that I know longer had to make plans or have any concerns at all, other than to please him. I was now completely his! He shaved my head, and then continued down my body, carefully removing all hair, down to my toes. It was an unbelievable sensation to have someone else handling and touching EVERY inch of me.

I had been shaved before in scenes, but nothing like this. He was meticulous. The overhead chain was connected through a mechanism that could be adjusted by pulling either of two chains hanging against the wall. Like Venetian blinds, he pulled me up or let me down, turned me around, had me kneel, and adjusted me as necessary to accommodate his careful work.

When he had finished shaving me all over, he stretched me up tall, standing on my tiptoes, and stood back to admire his work. I turned around several times, balancing on my toes. He was viewing his handiwork, and surveying his new property. He lowered my hands to about chest height and turned me around, instructing me to lean against the wall and to spread my legs apart as wide as I could. Sitting on a stool behind me, he inserted an enema nozzle into my ass. From an overhead bag he filled me up several times, stretching my gut like it had never been stretched, forcing me to hold it, then having me squat and release. This continued until I ran clear.

I had never been so clean inside! Satisfied that I was clean, he stretched me upward again. He then washed me all over with soap, rinsed me and left me hanging there to dry while he busied himself in the back of the room. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but the tinkling of chain and the rustling of leather and rope kept me hard with anticipation. My hands tired quickly - my wrists were hurting, but blood was still flowing and I welcomed the slight discomfort as symbolic of my captivity.

When I was dry he lowered my hands and released them from the cuffs. I was naked and unbound in my Master’s dungeon, but not for long. He re-cuffed my hands behind my back and, while I was still turned around, he took what looked like a caulking gun and, inserting the tip into my ass, filled me up with lubricant. It oozed out as he turned me around to face him, feeling squishy between my cheeks. He then retrieved a small leather device from his pocket, a harness, which fit snugly around my balls, forcing them down into their sack, and separating them with a tight leather strap. My cock was left free.

It had been hard since I walked through the door. Master made no effort to control it. I wondered what would happen to my cock. Would he tie it up too? Would he contain it in an anti-erection device? Would he punish it for being hard? It longed for release…to be touched, but he ignored it! He walked across the room and adjusted the lighting so that the middle of the room was flooded, the periphery dark.

He directed me out of the wash basin and instructed me to lie on the floor with my head near a small black heavy-looking, drum-shaped metal object. A huge metal mallet lay near it. He position me with the metal object behind me and close to my neck, and pulled the satchel over toward my face. I shivered uncontrollably as he removed a heavy iron slave collar slowly from the satchel. He put it down on the floor at my nose and stood back briefly, allowing me to savor the collar. “Look at it carefully,” he instructed. “You will never see it again!”

As I stared at it and trembled slightly, the sinisterness of what he had just said bore down heavily upon me! I would not see it, but I would feel it, ever-present, around my slave neck! The collar was made from curved, solid metal bands, about two inches wide, and at least a quarter of an inch thick. It was hinged, and met on the opposite side with tabs that contained holes through which a lock could be placed.

On the hinged side there was a permanently attached length of heavy chain. The rest of the chain remained inside the satchel. Around the collar, equally spaced, there were four iron D-rings to which other chains, locks, ropes, etc. could be attached. It would be heavy, but I would bear it. I would have no choice. It would further bind me to him, a thought I relished. He lifted the collar and moved it towards my neck, pulling more of the attached chain from the satchel. I followed his hands with my eyes. The chain jingled. The D-rings jingled.

I lifted my head slightly as he unceremoniously placed the collar around my neck. It was cold, and immediately very heavy. It clanked slightly as he closed it and touched the tabs together behind me. He was fumbling with something behind me that I assumed was a huge lock.

It was not until he picked up the mallet and began to bang away at the small anvil behind me that I realized it wouldn’t be a lock, but a metal rivet that would keep the collar in place. My balls strained in their leather bondage, my hard dick bounced freely as I startled and shuddered from the loud noise.

My hands pulled at the cuffs behind my back. He had said “permanent”, but little did I know just how permanent he meant! He helped me to stand, and as I stood up the gravity of my new PERMANENT collar hit me. It would take much getting used to. I would never forget that I was wearing it. It bore down on my shoulders, still cold. It would eventually warm up to by body temperature, but it would never become lighter.

The attached chain extended from the satchel as I rose, adding to the weight of the collar. Master directed me over to the wash basin, and followed me carrying the satchel. He put the satchel down beside the plastic bucket and had me turn around. Sitting on a stool as before and spreading my legs apart, he removed the leather bondage from my balls and replaced it with a locking metal ball cuff attached to a small length of chain. He then removed the handcuffs and directed me to remove the lid from the bucket. It was about half filled with a white powdery substance. Master sprayed some water into the bucket, gave me a stick and instructed me to stir the mixture.

When the water was completely incorporated, he directed me to pick up the bucket and the satchel. I followed him to the center of the room, placing them beside a small square of cardboard on the floor. Master pushed the cardboard aside, revealing a round hole cut into the floor. Either the hole had not been there before, or it had been carefully concealed. In either event I had not noticed it. It was about eight inches in diameter and approximately twelve inches deep. My knees buckled under my load as I mentally pieced together his plan. Master took the chain attached to my collar and pulled it from the satchel.

At the other end of what seemed to be about a fifteen feet chain, there was a small, iron anchor. The anchor was roughly the size of the hole. His intentions were clear. He placed the anchor into the hole and instructed me to pour the liquid cement in to cover it. I poured, shaking as I did. I stood and watched as he smoothed the cement, removing the excess with a trowel. He placed a small metal frame over the hole which would hold the attached chain up off of the cement until it dryed, and directed me to follow him. I did, swinging the short chain from my balls, and dragging the long length of chain from my neck. We walked over to the corner which held the cage.

I was obviously going to spend some time in the cage, a thought which sent pulses through my throbbing dick. How much more adrenilized could I become???

We walked to the corner that held the cage. Master carefully led me with the chain that was attached to my collar, making sure not to pull against the still wet cement. I noticed when I stepped into it that the cage was slightler larger than I had previosly assessed it to be. There would be room for me to sit upright in it.

The top was opened and temporarily secured with a small hook against the wall. Master turned me facing the corner and had me bend over with my legs spread apart. He squirted more of the cold lubricant up my ass, then told me to sit in the corner with my back toward the wall. It was then that I noticed something that had not been there before, a LARGE dildo, bolted into the floor, out from the corner about 8 inches.

It was dark in color, perhaps made of rubber or plastic - I couldn’t tell. Master was patient and I took my time. I knelt facing it at first, getting a good close look at it. It was between 6 and 8 inches in length, pointed then tapered out toward the bottom to a narrow spot around which my asshold would tighten, essentially attaching me to the floor by the ass! Now I knew why Master had put so much lubricant in me. I’m no virgin, but it took some time for me to get the thing completely in me. Master gave me no instructions except to “sit on it”, so I squatted, held onto the upper edge of the cage and slowly lowered myself onto the dildo, gradually moving my feet forward as I took in more and more of it. I had to raise up and try again several times before I could get my asshole to relax sufficiently.

Eventually my ass did relax, sucked in the monster, and closed down gratefully around the narrow section near the floor, effectively attaching me immovably to the floor. I lowered my hands and leaned back again the corner wall. It was very cold to my back. I wiggled slightly, feeling the fullness of the object within me, and realizing that I couldn’t move my torso in any direction.

I was held fast to the floor. Before I had much time to think about it, Master took my feet, spread them apart, and placed them into iron stocks. The implement consisted of two metal bands with curved sections at either end that, when closed together, formed ankle cuffs. The device screwed together at three places, by each ankle, and in the center.

Each of the screws was topped with an eye hook. Master then connected a short length of chain from each eye hook to the short chain hanging from my balls, pulling my feet back away from the bars of the cage and forcing my knees into the air and apart! This forced my back against the corner. Master then pulled two straps from behind me and used them to attach my upper body to the wall; at my waist, and at my chest. He then adjusted my collar so that the attached chain was in front, and using the D- rings on either side of my collar, he attached the back of my neck to the wall.

At the outside upper corner of the cage there was a narrow slot, just big enough to hold one link of the chain. He stretched the chain out from me until it was straight, then secured it into the slot. This would keep me from pulling on the chain and disturbing the still drying cement. Instructing me to keep my hands out of the way, he reached down between my legs and grabbed my cock…finally, I thought, he going to do something with my dick, but what? Holding my dick in one hand, he pulled a plastic sleeve onto it, securing it with a strap that went under my balls.

He used medical tape to tighten the device around my dick, especially near the head. I could still get hard, but not completely. On the end there was a small nipple to which Master attached a long piece of tubing. The tubing was long enough to reach across the room and empty into the basin drain.

I doubted that I would ever be soft enough to piss, but in case I needed to, I could. Another piece of tubing, slightly larger, was place near my mouth and taped into place. It led to a gallon jug of water just outside the cage. I would be watered and could piss all I needed to. Master obviously intended for me to be here a while! Only my hands needed to be secured. “Raise them up and place them against the wall,” he instructed, showing me where to put them. He slowly lowered the top of the cage and I could see two cut out areas along the edge, just the size of my wrists. The top of the cage barely grazed the top of my head as it closed down into place, securely locking my hands against the back walls about 8 inches away from my neck on either side.

For one last touch, Master connected a chain from the iron leg stocks to the outside corner of the cage, pulling my feet forward as far as they would go and slightly stretching my balls. My knees were free - but not for long - Master tied a bungee cord loosely around each knee and pulled them apart, securing them to the bars of the cage.

I could stretch my legs slightly for a little exercise, but they were always quickly pulled back by the bungee cord. He left the light on in the center of the room. I could only sit still, impaled by the dildo, strapped helplessly to the inside of an iron cage, and await his return. Master did one last check of all my bindings, checking for circulation.

I would obviously be there for a while. He reached down and fiendlishly pulled at my tits, mashing them between his fingers and twirling them relentlessly. My cock strained in its plastic sheath bondage. My asshole tightened around the dildo.

My balls pulled hopelessly at their iron bondage. My feet cramped, but when I wiggled them for relief, the chains pulled at my balls. I could only look straight ahead and watch the cement dry - obviously Master’s plan for my next few hours. He left the dungeon, closed the heavy door behind him. I heard the massive lock click, and faintly, his booted steps as he walked away.

My ass longed to rid itself of the monster. My hands, hanging helplessly began to ache. My balls were stretched and sore. Any slight movement I made pulled on the chains connected to them. My feet and legs cramped from being held rigid in one position for so long. My entire body went from uncomfortable, to sore, then to painful…pain that was unendurable, and yet I had to endure it! There were no choices for me any longer.

Master would decide how much pain I could take, and just what I could and WOULD endure! I lost conscientiousness several times. Each time I roused from pain-induced stupor,

I wished to be unconscious again. I wished most of all for Master to return and to release me from this cage. I knew full well that release from this current horror would only be replaced by some other horror. This was what I had longed for all my life - total slavery - permanent bondage. Whether or not I could “take it” mattered not in the least. I would endure it. I had signed the contract. I no longer had choices, and I had to learn to quit wishing and hoping. I would simply endure. This was my fate. To even mentally question this was futile.

This monster up my butt was there to teach me about futility, about hopelessness. The iron encircling my ankles and my balls were my new teachers. The collar around my neck was my guru, leading me to acceptance of the fact that I was now the property of another. My attachment to Master’s dungeon was permanent. I was now a part of the dungeon, cemented to its floor. I have no idea how much time passed before Master’s return. The water jug was empty. The cement was long dry. I had watched it turn color, from dark when wet, to a powdery white when dry.

The door opened. He paid me no attention initially and went to the center of the room to check the cement, removing the frame which held the chain and pulling with all his weight against the floor. He knew it was dry and that the chain was secure. This show was for my benefit. My dick sprang into action and labored against its bondage as I watched him. He walked slowly over toward me, looking at me without emotion. After standing and staring for a moment, he unlocked the top of the cage which released my hands. I couldn’t move them at first, then slowly, painfully, I lowered them to rest on my knees. I dare not touch anything else for fear of being punished - as if I were not ALREADY in pain. He released the iron from my ankles and disconnected the chains from the iron ball ring which he left in place.

The chest and waist straps were removed. “Get up,” he said, knowing that I could not without assistance. He placed his arms under mine and pulled me up off of the dildo. My ass stretched painfully as it came past the wide point of the monster. “Unscrew the dildo,” he added after I was fully standing. I thought I was rid of the monster, but apparently wherever I was going, it was coming with me. I knelt on sore knees and unscrewed the thing from the floor. I stood with Master’s help and stepped painfully out of the cage, wondering when I would visit it again.

We walked over to the wash basin where he made me stand still so that he could remove the penis sheath and the iron ball ring. I stood naked except for my collar. I leaned backward slightly to counter the pull of the heavy chain. He motioned me into the basin, and directed me to clean the dildo, and then to lay it aside on a shelf to dry. After several enemas, he washed me all over with soap and left me standing to dry. I liked very much the feeling of being completely naked except for my collar. After I was mostly dry, Master cuffed my hands behind me, then placed the dildo in my hands.

I was to keep it with me. I was then led me a small metal bowl on the floor near the door. I was apparently going to be fed. I was hungry. I knelt down and ate the tasteless, cereal-like mush ravenously. It was difficult to keep my balance, struggling on sore knees and balancing the dildo behind me, but I managed to eat all of the mush. I then drank some water from another bowl. Such was breakfast, or lunch, or dinner or whatever it was. I no longer had a sense of time. We headed back over toward the cage. My heart sank. I had had enough of the cage for a while. The neck chain pulled at me as I walked. Master lifted the chain to assist me. We passed the cage and stopped at the impaler, a simple metal rod rising from the floor.

My mind raced with joy and fear! I tried not to tremble as Master released my cuffed hands. I brought my hands and the dildo around to the front of me. Master instructed me to mount the dildo onto the metal rod. There was a screw fitting to accommodate it! He then had me bend over and, sticking the squirt gun up my ass, filled me with the lubricant. I knew what was coming.

Turning me around, he backed me toward the wall until I was standing over the dildo aimed at my ass. He reached over into the cage, retrieved the iron ankle stocks I had worn before, and screwed them into place around my ankles. Spreading my legs apart brought my ass downward. The dildo barely grazed my asshole. Next he put the locking ball ring back around my still aching balls. Should I complain? Should I ask for mercy? I dared not speak - it might make things worse!

My job was to comply willingly and to respect Master’s plan, whatever it might mean for me. After recuffing my hands behind me, he put the plastic pissing sheath back on my struggling dick. I enjoyed his touching my dick and longed for more, but Master had a plan for it I was sure! For now, I must be content to suffer bondage. He hung a light weight metal pail from my bound balls.

There was enough room between my spread-apart legs for the pail to swing to and fro. He then ran the piss tube into the bucket and taped it into place. My own piss would fill the bucket and lightweight would turn to very heavy. He put ear plugs into my ears and onto my head he placed a leather hood with no eye holes, only nostril ventilation and a hole for the water tube to be taped into place in my mouth. The hood laced up the back of my head, and around my neck. It felt good. He ran his hands lightly over my arms, checking for circulation, I guess. He cupped and fondled my balls and rechecked the penis tubing.

Then there was a long pause. I could not tell if he had walked away, or was standing near me. And then I felt his hands on my shoulders. He gently pushed me down onto the waiting monster. I sat down, slowly consuming its hugeness, pushing, stretching, until my asshole found the narrow spot and I was stuck. He then loosened the rod so that it could be raised, and pushed me up with it until I was barely standing on my heels. I was impaled, stretched upward by the ass. I could only stand there helpless, and drink water, and piss, and fill the bucket. How long would he leave me in this state? What difference did it make? There would only be some other fiendish bondage situation to follow, then another, then another…for the rest of my life!

Countless days and nights went by. I was no longer aware of time. My only focus was on my bondage which was never-ending. When the piss bucket hanging from my tender balls was full and dripping onto the floor, splashing onto my legs, Master came in, emptied it, and hung it there again to be refilled. I don’t know how many times I filled the bucket - several.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The bucket was emptied and not replaced. The impaler was lowered and me with it. I was pulled up off of it, my legs, hands, head, and balls released from their prisons, and led over to the corner wash basin. The slight stubble that had collected all over me was my only clue to time passed; around a week I judged. I don’t know what in me encouraged me to try to keep up with time. Why? There was no time for me in the traditional sense. T

his was obviously his plan, to obscure my sense of time. It was working. But meanwhile I would hang on to this only clue - the stubble of hair. It was a simple thing, but somehow I needed the connection with time reality. Otherwise I imagined that I would be insane. And maybe I already was? In my former life I had been a stickler for keeping to the schedule. I never missed a deadline in my 12 years as a journalist. The schedule was, I began to realize now, my former Master. I had simply exchanged one for the other.

             My “FULL HEAD TRIP!” 

After much procrastination, and numerous delay’s, my “Full Head Trip,” a fully leather lined, truly bespoke mask, is once more available to purchase.        Although be warned; it aint cheap, and production is strictly limited.

Those of you on the list already, don’t panic, you’re at the top of the list.

Here is one of my favorite stories:

Mansion by the Lake My new lakeside property was a small cottage – nothing too beer commercial-ish, but it would serve for weekends of partying and enjoying some time away from the city. I was lucky in that the lake was small and there were no powerboats on it. Most of the land on the lake, as well as the surrounding area was all crown land, so I didn’t worry much about trespassers or anyone else for that matter. The road in was a long dirt road that took almost 30 minutes of driving before it even hit one of the main back roads. My only neighbor was all the way across the lake, albeit in a rather sizable mansion that towered over the northern view of the water. I had spent the first few months fixing up the place – it was old and mouldy but with a few weeks worth of work looked almost brand new.

It was about the start of June, when we had one of our usual Northern-Ontario heavy rainstorms. It started with huge gusts of wind, and was followed by a night of spectacular rain, thunder and lightning. The power went off relatively early, so I spent most of the night watching the thunder from my porch before I got cold and went to bed. I loved the sound of the rain rattling on the roof, and the thunder from inside my warm blankets.

Waking up in the morning, however, it became clear that the rain had been more fierce than I thought – there were branches and leaves everywhere – clearly the trees had gotten quite the shake. The power was still out, and taking a walk up the road, I could see that the power lines had been absolutely felled by several trees which had been completely knocked over. The was no way to drive over them either, and it would be several solid hours of walking before I would see another vehicle, let alone be in cell phone range.

Then I thought of my neighbor, his house used a separate road, and he might still have power. At the very least he might have a chainsaw that I could use to cut the logs off the road. I took a walk all the way around the property to his side of the lake. As I got closer I saw repeated “no trespassing” signs all over the property. A few hundred meters out, when the property opened up into a clearing, the huge looming mansion came into view. There was a van parked out front as well as a truck, so I could only assume that the owner was home, but the lights were all dark. Even worse, a large barbed wire fence surrounded the area. A sign on it read that it was electrified.

I followed the fence to the front gate and saw that there was a large intercom. I tried hitting the buzzer but no sound came out of it. I thought perhaps his power was off so I tried touching the gate. No effect!

Suddenly, I heard a strange moan come from the direction of the house. I looked around and saw a dark figure come stumbling out of the front door. It seemed to be hugging itself and walking in a stilted fashion.

“Hello?”, I shouted.

Another moan responded, and as the figure came closer I could see that he was dressed head to toe in black rubber. He appeared to be in a black rubber straitjacket, and a muzzle covered his face. He “ran” directly up to the gate and did a strange little dance.

“Are you ok?”, I asked.

He shook his head, no.

“Do you need help?”

He nodded.

I opened the gate, and he sped out of there, past me, down the road, back towards my place. I caught up with him and slowed him down. I tried to unbuckle the muzzle but found that it was actually locked on! From the looks of it… all the rubber gear he was wearing was held in place with a lock. I struggled to see if I could open it, but to no avail.

“Its locked – are there keys inside?”

He shook his head violently. I could see panic in the eyes, this guy really wanted out.

“Ok… I might have some tools back at my place, are you ok to go in there?”

The rubber guy nodded quickly.

I brought him into the cottage and quickly shut the door behind me. I took a brief look outside but no one seemed to be around. I guided my guest to a chair and sat him down. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and said: “I’ll be back in a minute.”

The second my hand touched the rubber I noticed how smooth it felt and I suddenly was aware of the odor of latex just steaming off of the poor guy. I quickly snapped back into reality, realizing that I had been gently stroking his shoulder, taking in the texture, and that he was probably terribly frightened already. Being in such a vulnerable position, he probably would not appreciate it in the slightest.

“You’re going to be OK,” I said reassuringly, hoping that would ease him a bit.

I pushed other thoughts aside and ran down to the basement to find some tools. I opened up the toolbox and immediately found a pair of scissors, I held them for a second and then thought that maybe he wouldn’t want me cutting him out of that outfit, but rather would want me to get the locks off. No way would I be able to pick it, but I did have a set of bolt cutters that would work. I grabbed them from the wall and ran upstairs.

“Hold still a second, bud,” I said. “I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy!”

I first clipped the lock holding his muzzle on, and unstrapped it from his face. I then unbuckled the ball gag underneath.

“Thanks so much!” he blurted out. “Please… get me out of this thing!”

“Ok… no problem, I’m working on it.”

I hastily clipped the rest of the locks running down the straitjacket, the ankle restraints, and the harness that I discovered he was wearing underneath it all. I piled it all on the table next to me. My guest stood up and stretched, the tight rubber creaking all around him. He pulled the mask off and I could see that he was no older than I was, maybe about 27 or 28.

“Please get the zipper in the back,” He said, and I unzipped the suit. He pulled his shoulders and arms out, sweat spilling out onto the floor. He must have been in there for some time. Gloves, boots, even rubber toed socks came off and were piled together. He stood before me naked, drenched in sweat.

“Thank you… I thought I’d never get out of there,” he sighed, sounding quite relieved. “My name is Matt.”

“Ok Matt, I’m Ryan,” I held my hand out and we shook. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a towel and some clothes. There’s a shower in the bathroom if you like.” I came back a moment later with a towel and a set of jeans and a t-shirt.

“Again, thanks. Do you have a phone?”

I shook my head, no. “The storm took out the phone and cable. I was without power until this morning.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve been pretty incommunicado for the last month. I imagine there are some people pretty worried about me.”

“Oh?” I was burning with curiosity already, but didn’t want to push. “Is everything ok, I mean… well this just isn’t a usual way of meeting people. Do you live down the lake?”

Matt wrapped the towel around his waist. “I’m fine – really. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can give you a ride into town after you shower up, we’ll have to wait until the county guys get here to clear the road, I’m afraid. There’s some fallen trees blocking it.”

Matt nodded carefully, taking a look out of a nearby window. “That would be great. Sorry if I seem a bit sketchy.”

“No problem. Those clothes should fit you just fine – you look like you’re pretty much the same size as me. They’re just old clothes for kicking around in so it’s really no problem.”

I put the pot on for coffee and then saw him to the bathroom. He closed the door and the shower started running. Where did this guy come from? Obviously he was up to some kind of bondage thing in that outfit, and he seemed a bit embarrassed. He really didn’t need to – I had seen pictures like that on the Internet and was highly curious about it. He did also seem a bit scared, and that only served to deepen my curiosity. I had never even seen my neighbor and this guy didn’t seem to live on the lake. This raised the question if maybe another person was back at the house, also in some kind of trouble.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of joe. Sipping at it I returned to the table and saw the pile of black, slimy rubber lying flaccidly on the table. I grabbed the suit and shook it out a bit. As the suit made a low rumbling noise, almost a little like thunder. Sweat dripped out of the legs and dribbled onto my shoe. The scent of sweat and latex together was overwhelming, slightly sickly but inviting and familiar. I could feel an erection forming. I slid my hand into the armpit of the suit just letting it glide a little bit into the arm. Lubed with sweat I could feel the now cold, smooth rubber gripping around my hand and forearm, I felt as if I could just slide right in, it was practically sucking me right in –

I heard a cough from nearby and saw Matt standing there. He was freshened up considerably and now dressed in normal clothes. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. I turned a bit red and tried to pull my arm out quickly as I lay the suit back on the table. Half of it flopped down but it was obviously stuck to my forearm.

“I made coffee,” I said quite feebly, obviously embarrassed.

Matt chuckled a little. “It’s ok. I get it.”

He walked into the kitchen and found the coffee pot and mug that I had set out for him. He poured himself a cup. He took a sip. “Are you into rubber?”

“Well… I mean I’ve seen photos on the Internet,” I waffled, not sure what to say.

“What sort of photos?” he grinned.

“Photos of men looking pretty much like you did about five minutes ago,” I blushed. “Some of the heavier ones where they looked like the gimp in Pulp Fiction, I always wondered what it was like to be that guy.“

“Have you ever done anything with it?” Matt casually sipped at his coffee.

I thought about it for a second. I had spent a fair bit of time perusing some fetish sites on some lonely nights, but never really thought seriously about it. “Well I guess that I thought that it was something that weird people did. Dangerous people. I wasn’t ready to find out the hard way that I couldn’t trust them.”

“Understandable…. Believe me… completely understandable,” he smiled an odd smile, and sat down at the table, looking casually out the window, across the lake to my neighbor’s house. “You can try that stuff on if you like.”

I pulled my hand out quickly and it felt cold in the open air. “I couldn’t really…”

“Why not?” he frowned, as if I said something completely absurd. “Listen man, you can have it. All of it. I’m not going to put it on again.”

I should have sensed something was wrong, but my ears were hot and just hearing the idea of being inside the suit made me instantly rock hard. My cock was begging to be let out of my jeans. Seeing Matt wearing my jeans and a t-shirt, the same muscular build, the same height, he was obviously my size, I would have no problem fitting into the rubber. I thought about how he looked when I first laid eyes on him, embodying a fantasy that I barely knew I had. Now the idea was just burning a hole right through me.

Matt must have been reading my mind. “Look, we’re obviously the same size. Just go for it, I’ll help you out. “

I hesitated for a second, but before I could stop myself I was peeling off my shirt. “So… what is your story anyway? How did you end up here?’

Matt took another glance across the lake. For a split second I thought I saw someone walking on the property, but I wasn’t sure. Matt didn’t seem concerned.

“Well, I work at a bar in Toronto, I’m going to school part time. Pretty regular sort of life really… as you might have guessed I also had an interest in fetish and bondage. Just like you, I read about it on the internet and became a little obsessed. Mostly just obsessed with looking at pictures and reading stories.”

I peeled off my underwear, revealing my hard cock dripping with precum and picked up the suit. Matt stood up picking something up off the table. “You should really put on the cock sheath. Trust me, your cock feels better in the suit surrounded by another layer of rubber. Here, I’ll help you out.”

The rubber sheath slid right over my package and tightened like a cock ring at the base. I bobbed my cock up and down once, and felt it grow inside. The rubber confines stretched around my member, looking sleek and black. Matt then picked up the suit, shook it back out into shape and held it open before me.

“Climb on in!” He chirped with a smile. I put one foot in, and then the other. Matt pulled it up around me, and it could feel the perfect fit sliding up my legs. An electric tingle ran up my body as it hugged me tight. “…so anyway… I actually lurked on a couple of the sites for a long time. I didn’t post a photo for almost a year, and when I did I immediately got tons of hits.”

“I don’t blame them. You’re pretty cute.”

“Heh thanks. You’re not bad yourself, man,” Matt said as he tugged the rubber up onto my hips. “There really isn’t much of a rubber community in Toronto – from the internet it seems like it’s all in other countries. I really sold myself on the idea that I wanted to try experiencing a true, inescapable session of total rubber enclosure and slavery, at least for a little while. Really, finding sane people into that kind of thing is really hard.”

I slid my arms into the sleeves and pushed forward. The rubber came up onto my shoulders and greased with sweat started clinging to my chest. Matt zipped up the back and the entire suit seemed to tighten around my back, shoulders and neck. I moved around a bit, my skin feeling more alive than I had ever known it. I felt ready to come right through the suit and knock a wall down with the force of it.

“This is awesome!”

“I know!” Matt laughed. I started feeling myself all over. “Have a seat!”

I sat down and Matt picked the socks off the table. “Trust me, it’s better when it’s all over you. If you like that – you’re gonna love this.”

Matt started working the rubber socks onto my feet. He then slid the boots on. They took a minute to lace up as they ran practically up my entire shin. An ankle restraint was then buckled on overtop. I stood up, walking around, feeling it move on my body.

“Anyway, so I finally talked to this one guy online. Sounds like he’s a dedicated rubberist. He definitely had a ton of gear in his photos. Sounded pretty sane and definitely wanted to get into a lot of the same stuff that I was into. So I arranged a time and place to meet – local bar, nothing fancy.”

Matt worked up the tight elbow length gloves onto my arms and buckled the wrist restraints on. He picked up the harness: “You want to try this?”

Thinking of the many photos I’d seen of rubber gimps that were clad in a similar harness how could I say no? I wasn’t locked in after all. I nodded my head. He started strapping it on me.

“Awesome. Man, this looks great on you, I think even better than it looked on me,” Matt said, admiring his handiwork. “So I met this guy, and turned out to be pretty down to earth, used to be a doctor, now he just plays the stocks all the time – never loses. We met at a hotel a couple of times and he let me experiment with different types of gear, seemed really enthusiastic, and I’ll admit he pushed my limits in the best way possible.”

“Sounds great! Where do I find this guy?” I joked. Matt pulled the mask from the table, and without asking stepped behind me and pulled it over my head. The feeling of it tightening around my face was indescribable. I felt my identity slip away. “I have got to see a mirror.”

“One second, you need a finishing touch,” Matt grabbed the collar from the table and buckled it onto my neck. I felt instantly more submissive, like a rubbered thing. I walked to a mirrior hanging in the doorway and was surprised at the black alien figure staring back at me. I thought I couldn’t get any hornier, but my cock just seemed to grow harder and harder. I had become that rubber gimp I always fantasized about. Well, sort of… no one was tying me up in this gear.

“You look great, really great,” Matt exclaimed. Even he seemed excited. I was running my rubbered hands all over my body. I couldn’t believe the sensation. I wandered back by the table. A few stray pieces of gear still lay on the table, one of them quite formidable. I took a cautious breath.

“Oh, the straitjacket,” Matt nodded. He picked up and held it up. “Maybe you don’t want to get into that. It’s a bit much all at once. You can kind of get into a bit of a frenzy where you just want everything on you at once.”

“I’ll say!”, I laughed.

Matt took another glance out the window. “What the heck right? It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere on you. You said yourself the road is blocked.”

I shrugged, thinking far too much with my pecker and not thinking for a second about the dangerous territory I was skirting. I held my arms out and he draped the straight jacket over them. He moved around the back and zipped up the rear of the jacket, and started pulling buckles on the back tight.

“Where was I? Oh yeah… so finally we meet one weekend and he gets me totally rubbered up, head to toe, pretty much like you are now. This was the usual for us by this point. Only instead of going to the hotel, we decided to go to his house, as it had his entire and extremely sizable gear collection.”

Matt pulled my arms across my body, buckling them in place. A strap come over the front providing them no movement. A crotch strap tightened on my inner thighs and there was no way I could get out of this jacket on my own. My temperature seemed to skyrocket and I could feel my own sweat filling the suit. I tried to move but all I felt was rubber grinding on rubber. I was positively elated.

“So we get up there and he leads me down to his basement, it’s a dungeon. I mean a real dungeon. If there’s a weird bondage contraption you’ve seen online – he’s got it. Most importantly it’s got a real cell and the door opens only with a key code that he knows, some kind of electric, digital lock gizmo. I was totally excited for a real bondage session with this guy; I’d been having such a great time. Then he starts talking about control, and taking total control over me, making me a 24/7 rubber slave, at least eventually. I don’t mean starting slow and working up to 24/7 – I mean he wanted to start at 24/7 but I was supposed to be less than a slave – that was what he wanted me to work up to.”

Suddenly I started coming back to reality. Why did I feel like his story was taking a turn for the worst? “Matt, why don’t I like where this is going?”

Matt led me to the couch, carrying the rest of the gear with him. He sat me down.

“Well, for starters…” He pinched my nose unexpectedly, but instinctually I opened my mouth. He shoved the red rubber ball gag in and buckled it behind my head. I tried pushing it out with my tongue but to no avail. I tried to sit up but Matt sat on my lap, pinning me. He slipped the muzzle over my head and quickly strapped it all on tightly. I shook my head side to side screaming into the gag, but it was obvious that the sound was far too muffled, and we were far too isolated. Matt grabbed my chin and held it still.

“Shhhhhh… You see I didn’t want to be a 24/7 anything except being a student. It was way too much, but he never even gave me the opportunity to say ‘no’. I was his rubber THING for over a month, held in that dungeon. Oh, there was some horny times, yeah, but I wanted my life back. I had almost given up hope on the idea when the power went out. He must have been asleep when it happened. I think some kind of safety feature opened up the electronic locks and I was able to walk right out the door – and into your arms. This is the first time I’ve worn anything but rubber in all that time. Oh, and since you asked where you could find this guy – well, he’s looking in the window right now!” Startled, I looked behind me to the window out to the deck and saw a tall, muscular, bald man, probably in his late forties. He was dressed like a biker but all in rubber, aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes. His face was cold and expressionless. Matt pulled me up to my feet.

“Boy,” the man’s voice was deep and commanding. I got an instant chill. “Did you really think you’d get away?”

Matt stood his ground. “Sir – I’m done. I don’t want this anymore. It was dumb luck that I got away and you won’t get me that easily again without a real fight. I’m not stupid – I won’t go telling anyone about this. I just want to go home and go back to my life. I’ll call it a fun misadventure.”

“You think it’s just that easy, Boy?” the man snarled.

“Maybe not. Maybe I’ll want to come back to you. I doubt it. I’ve had enough,” Matt’s voice trembled. He too was genuinely afraid. Me… I was shaking. “I’ve found a replacement though. He’s hungry for it – more than I was, I think. I’ll give him to you and that makes me an accomplice. Then we’re both happy. You know I can’t turn you in, and I can leave.”

I started shrieking hysterically inside my rubber prison. I tried to make a break for it, running past the rubber man as he stepped into my cottage. He snapped an arm out and caught me by the neck. His other hand went directly to my cock and he gripped my still hard member.

“Mmmm,” he growled. “He’s horny. Very horny.”

“You see?” Matt pleaded. “He’s perfect, Sir. Take him with you – he can be your new slave or whatever the fuck it is you want. I’m going to take a long walk into town, and catch a bus back to Toronto. You’ll have your hands full starting your…. Training all over again.”

The man sniffed me like the bouquet of a fine wine. “Ok boy. You have a deal. Don’t think I won’t come looking for you eventually. We have unfinished business.”

The man pulled a leash out of his pocket and clipped it to my collar. He started pulling me out the door, and down the road to his house. “Alright boy, I guess it’s you and me now. You and I are going to have to work very hard over the next couple of days sorting a few things out.”

I pulled as best I could but I had no leverage at all. What was even worse was that a part of me I think really wanted to go with him. Either way, I was about to find out the rubber horrors that lay beyond the dark windows of that mansion by the lake.

I was practically dragged by the neck all the way down the road. Completely unable even to look back to see the safety of my home quickly falling away from me, nor able to see the treacherous man that I tried to help, I could only focus instead on the house quickly looming over me. The windows of the house seemed black and empty, hungry even and I was utterly panicked but unable to fight in any way at all.

As we entered the front gate, my captor paused for a moment to shut the gate and flipped a switch. There was a humming noise and I could only assume that the fence was now electrified. Presumably it had been knocked out by the same storm that had affected the power at my cottage earlier. Even if I was able to get out of my rubber prison, there was at least one more obstacle that I would have to plan to get past.

We entered through the front door, and I only had a few seconds to notice the opulence of the interior – clearly my captor was a man of considerable means given the nature of the interior décor. It was a very classical design, riddled with antiques and art – somewhere beyond the scent of rubber I could smell the distinct odor of fine cigars and mahogany. All this was moot however as we raced through the first floor directly to a large metal door opening to a cellar. My captor punched in an elaborate code into a keypad on the door, and it unlocked with a heavy click. There followed another such door at a vestibule before entering the rest of the basement.

There were only a few rooms with the doors open where I could make out what was inside. One was a carefully-marked equipment room, in which I could make out several devices of torture, as well as rubber and leather clothing, gas masks and boots. Another was a gym of some kind although I didn’t recognize all of the equipment. The man was huge however, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a very particular regimen. We stopped at a door that opened into what could only be described as a cell. Inside were only a steel toilet, a steel sink, and a bench with a mattress, which also had a rubber mattress cover on it. I was sat down and my collar was clipped to a hook on the wall.

“Stay right here, boy,” the man said, and walked quickly out of the room.

I could hear him shuffling with something down the hall so I immediately started thrashing about trying to release myself. It was to no avail. The straitjacket provided me with absolutely no leverage at all, and the best that I could do was feel my rubbered arms sliding about in the smooth interior. There was no way to generate enough force or violence to be able to escape. I was completely trapped inside. I gave up and sat back panting for a few minutes before he returned carrying a box with several items inside.

He first dumped several padlocks out onto the bench beside me and locked the restraints on my legs before locking them together. Another lock was attached to my collar.

“You are not going to be able to walk anywhere in a hurry and your collar is locked to the wall,” my captor said. “I am going to take off your straitjacket; if you make any trouble you will regret it very quickly. Nod if you understand.”

I nodded. This man wasn’t going to take any chances and I would have to wait until later for a slip-up. He reached forward and unbuckled the straitjacket. He then applied locks to each of the buckles on my harness. My wrist restraints were removed but quickly replaced with a pair of rubber mitts rendering my hands completely useless. They too, were then locked together. He lit a cigar and stood before me, admiring his work.

“Alright boy, when you earn the right to speak, you will call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’”, he commanded. “I will call you whatever the fuck I want. As you may have guessed, yes, I kept your friend Matt here for some time. He might have told you it was against his will but I can assure you that he enjoyed it far too much for it to be involuntary. From the size of your hard-on I can only assume that you are much the same.

Number one, I have fixed the fail-safe in my backup generator, so even if the power is out, the doors will remain locked. They will not open automatically as before. The electric fence outside will remain electrified. Furthermore…”

“Master” removed a remote control from his pocket and pressed a button. An intense searing shock came from my collar and I was instantly immobilized. I screamed quickly but the cry was severely muffled by my gag and muzzle.

“I carry this with me at all times. Now that the power is back up on the fence you will be unable to walk more than 25 meters beyond without it triggering automatically. I have it set currently to the medium setting; however, walking outside the perimeter will automatically trigger it at the highest.

Obviously, I have quite the obsession with rubber. I have always wanted to have the ultimate rubber companion and have for years thought about the training and conditioning that I wanted it to have. I had already started an aggressive program with Matt, but he managed to escape before it took hold, thanks to nothing more than a simple power failure. I have already taken steps to ensure that it won’t happen again.

You might be able to escape from your restraints down here, but before you even reach the upstairs, you will be unable to make it past the electric locks on the doors. Do not think that I don’t want to have you upstairs with me – there is much that I want you to do up there, but for now this will be your world.

Right now you are only to be an object of pure rubbered physicality. Your body is mine to use and shape as I see fit. You are a pure Gimp for nothing more than my enjoyment and your training. As I see eagerness and obedience grow in you, I will start small, and eventually you will be in a position to start obeying more complex desires, in which case I will start training you as my Puppy. If you can learn the kind of devotion and obedience that I expect of a dog successfully then I may teach you how to be a Slave worthy of serving my needs, yet worthy of some greater levels of autonomy and expression, a chance to have some of yourself back. If you can earn those privileges you will eventually become my Boy, hopefully a rubber man who has finally realized all that I can teach and give him, and completely willing to continue to submit to my authority. I guarantee with each of these titles that you earn, you will find yourself glowing with pride.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I am speaking of your achievements possibly years down the line and you have only been here a few minutes. I’m sure that right now you are terrified and alone – and rightly so, this is an incredibly fearsome first step you have taken and not of your own will. I have some further preparations to make, so there is no time like the present to begin your conditioning. Come with me…”

He clipped a leash to my neck and unclipped me from the wall. We shuffled down the hall to a room full of different racks, elaborate chairs, slings, and crosses. I was sat down into a fearsome leather barber’s chair covered in straps. The D-rings on my collar, harness and restraints were all clipped in place and additional restraints added on. All the while my mind was racing – he intended me to stay here for years – forever really from the sounds of things, and indulge in some perverse education of his? I wanted to cry, I had never felt so helpless before.

“Now, I am going to get a look at my plaything. Don’t even try to speak or I will activate the collar.”

Master removed the muzzle, gag and mask. My head was dripping with sweat, it ran down my face and into my eyes. Master dried my head with a towel.

“Excellent. A fair trade for Matt if I may say so. You are a good looking boy, and I must say that rubber really does become you. Good thing, as it is all you are going to be wearing for some time. Matt had been wearing almost nothing but, for over a month – you should expect much longer before your skin is allowed to touch anything else.”

Master ran his hand through my hair, frowning.

“This hair is far too long, though, and not something that you have earned. It will have to go.”

From nearby, master pulled a set of clippers and without hesitation set to buzzing all of the hair from my head, long locks of it falling pathetically into my lap. These were quickly brushed aside and he swept up. He then held up a mirror for me to see. looked up I was shaved completely bald. I could hardly recognize myself at all. For a second I thought that someone else was looking back. He was right though, seeing myself bound completely in rubber my horniness came back with a vengeance. I’ll admit, I’d fantasized about similar scenarios, but the reality of it was utterly terrifying. I blamed it on blind nervous energy. I’d heard before about soldiers that experienced erections during battle for the same reason.

“Not bad,” Master said. “Normally I like a nice crew cut or a high-and-tight on my boy, but you will earn that look in time. For now the tactile experience of a regularly shaved head will allow you to enjoy THIS…”

With that he forced a gas mask with a rubber hood over my face. It was already lubed on the inside allowing it to slide directly on, despite how tight it was. Some kind of internal gag forced its way into my mouth. It was pumped up and I could feel the bit swelling in my mouth. Tubes fit directly into my nostrils. Earbuds almost naturally fell into my ear cavity and a white noise could be heard starting up. Master unzipped my cock and placed what felt like a large suction device of some kind up to it, with a slow rhythm starting to slowly jerk me off. A trolley with several TV monitors was rolled up in front of me and switched on. A sweet scent started to pump into the gas mask, though the air seemed clearer somehow. The screens flickered to life with videos of rubber and bondage pornography playing on each.

Master’s voice came into the earbuds.

“Just lie back and enjoy the show, boy. Don’t fight it. I will be monitoring closely. This is the first of many such sessions that I will expect you to complete, so try to adjust yourself accordingly. I will be back soon – don’t worry, I have your breathing on a monitor which will alert me if there is a problem.”

Scene after scene of erotic rubber pleasure played before me. The suction of the device rose and fell, never quite seeming to bring me to climax. I would get so close and then be denied as the system slowed itself down. A constant mesmerizing beat played slowly in my ear.

Even more horrifyingly, scenes showing removal from bondage, removal of rubber, or even normal sex, normal life were met with a series of painful shocks from the collar. My earbuds would play a harsh, erratic tone. I made the connection quickly – I was to associate only pleasure with being a rubber gimp, and a complete aversion to anything else. I was only to enjoy being his rubber plaything, and any other thoughts were to be pushed aside.

The first of many such sessions? How many is many? A month was not enough to keep Matt from escaping and that was only after he was given a miracle opportunity of Master’s elaborate security breaking down. Surely Master would be planning for this too – so how long would this phase of training continue? A month? Two months? A year?