Rubberport

PART 1

Talk about a kind of bondage and mummification that you just can’t get away from at all. pig once had the chance to chat with the guy from the original movie who experienced this. This silicone rubber cocoon sticks to the skin, it doesn’t slide or shift around like a latex hood or catsuit can, especially when it’s all sweaty inside. The silicone is always applying resistance to remain in the shape it was in when it dried. You can flex and move a little but you can’t maintain any position other than the original, it will pull you right back.

What an amazing feeling that must be for every inch of your body to be almost fused with a thick rubber skin. It’s so thick around your head that it feels like a helmet and blocks out all sound because it goes all the way into your ears. Your fingers and toes can’t even wiggle as they’re stuck in place, not one of them being able to touch their neighbor. 

Now imagine being kept like this for hours. The tube gag in your mouth being your only connection to the outside world and you’re getting warm inside your thick rubber cocoon. It was fun for the first two or three hours and then you calmed down and was able to drift off and float for a while. In and out of consciousness and completely losing track of time. 

Later still you’ve moved into boredom and the rubber still sticks to you like glue. Never yielding. Your body begins to feel stiff from not having moved for a long time and while you have some ability to bend your body or roll from side to side even, you can’t fight the tension of the rubber and maintain any position, you get pulled right back to this first position.

You realize that you haven’t heard any sound for a very long time now, only hearing your own breathing and your heartbeat in your plugged up ears. You think to yourself “Where’s Sir? I’m getting a little bored with this. I think I’d like to get out now please.” but you struggle with the decision to try to get Sir’s attention or not. Is it failure if you ask or beg to be released? Would you disappoint Sir? Would you be disappointed in yourself if you ended it now?

Nothing. Followed by more nothing. It’s been well over a few hours by now right? For a very long time the struggle as to whether or not to get Sir’s attention and ask for release continues in your mind until eventually the stiffness in your body and the soreness from lying on your back wins out and you tentatively grunt for Sir, hoping He’s in hearing distance but also at the same time… not wanting to disturb Him. You wait for a while, wondering if Sir heard your pathetic little gagged grunt, straining to hear anything yourself through the thick silicone rubber that’s wrapped around your head.

Eventually you grunt again, this time more assertively and loudly only to be met with the same deafening silence you’ve been swallowed up in for hours already.You wonder if Sir is even still around. Wasn’t He monitoring you to make sure you’re OK? Where is He?

Your anxiety grows as does the desire to be able to move again, to have the gag removed from your mouth and to see and hear again. Maybe something happened to Sir and He can’t get to you, you wonder. Imagining yourself becoming the next sensationalist headline news article to have been found alive or dead in some nefarious kinkily compromised position. Your grunts turn into sustained shouts and noises. All completely unintelligible but hopefully attention getting but to no avail. You “shout” yourself hoarse until all you can do is to pant from the exertion, whimpering at your perceived misery and unknown fate.

Then unexpectedly, finally something touches you. Maybe on your thickly covered chest or on your dehumanized rubber face. A squeeze or a pat on your encased cock and balls and then finally, thankfully, you can just hear your Master’s voice. Muted through all the rubber, He has to raise his voice close to your plugged up ear so you can hear Him. 

He asks “Are you ready to come out now?

You hurriedly grunt repeatedly to answer yes and to to make that He understands. Your Master informs you of how desperate and pathetic you’ve been sounding for the last couple of hours of this ordeal. He’s of course heard everything, watching and enjoying your struggle, looking at His property which is now just a nearly shapeless lump of rubber.

Then Sir gets even closer to your ear and what he tells you makes your blood run cold, your stomach jumps into your throat and ratchets up your anxiety to near panic levels.

“You’ve heard the saying that it’s not bondage until you want out right slave? Well this is where your real bondage training begins. This is where I start training you to accept the fact, deep in your heart, that you have no power and that there is no way out for you ever. These last several hours have all just been the warm up, getting your excitement out of the way for the real training. This is where I break you slave. You will stay encased and sealed like this until I feel that you’ve completely lost all will to ever escape or plead for changes to your bondage again. You will stay like this until I can tell that you’re utterly desperate to be reprogrammed. You will be blank by the time I release you and then begin the process of rebuilding you to be the slave object that I want, and nothing more. 

A big smile and a killer body always attracts attention

Always have a person (kinky or not) that is coming to check on you "eventually".

What is a Gimp? I was asked this seemingly simple question and I found myself at a bit of a loss at first. For years I have wanted to be and identify as a gimp, so I was a bit taken aback when I realized I couldn’t verbalize what I wanted. It’s a bit like when the supreme court was trying to define porn, to paraphrase badly: “I can’t define it but I know it when I see it.” So for years I was operating under that mentality I don’t know what I identify as, but when I see it or feel it I know it. So I’m going to attempt to make a definition for gimp. I want to add that this certainly varies person to person and this is mostly a personal exercise for figuring out what I want and what I am.

So for me, a gimp is a submissive object that submits completely to its owner, however, this is a fairly simplistic statement and it’s much more nuanced and specific for me. Being a gimp at its core is about separating from humanity and individualism and embracing being an object. When in ‘gimp mode’ the gimp should be treated as an object, a thing, just something to be used and be stored away when not needed. Additionally, gimps leave all trappings of its identity behind; it exists to be just another thing the Dom/Owner has access to. It’s hard to explain to someone but putting on my rubber suit and mask so all that shows is my shiny second skin is freeing. It frees me to leave my humanity behind and accept whats in store and helps the Dom to stop seeing the human and start seeing an object. The other benefit of the gimp being completely covered is that gimps when covered look the same essentially. Granted there are some minor differences (height, weight, etc.) but for the most part, gimps could be interchangeable. Thus the gimp is not a specific person to the Dom/owner the gimp is an object the serves. Like if you were to picture a loaf of bread, I doubt a specific loaf of bread comes to mind. You maybe picturing a type like wheat, white, or sourdough, but you aren’t picturing one loaf in particular and that’s precisely what I feel about gimps. Part of the turn on for me is a gimp is a gimp is a gimp, easily replaced, interchangeable; a gimp is not a specific thing that’s the essence of what I mean by deindividualized.

Gimps are treated harshly. Part of removing the humanity and being covered and deindividualized is that it allows the Dom to stop seeing the gimp as a person and treat them more as an object. Gimps are also completely controlled; this is a major part of it for me. Slaves maybe completely controlled at times but a gimp is utterly and completely controlled every facet of its life is controlled by the Dom. Sight, hearing, speaking, movement, sleep, eating, urination all controlled by the Dom. Any sensory input or a minor bit of freedom is granted by the Dom and can be revoked at any point and for gimps, these periods of freedom and privilege are few and far between; the gimp lives and thrives in isolation and control. Slaves may experience these situations at some point but what separates them from gimps is that bondage, isolation, and objectification are not a slaves default state.

A gimps life consists of storage and pain. A gimp spends the majority of its time waiting to be used. It exists solely for the whims of its Owner. When the owner isn’t using it the gimp would be stored out of the way, in a cage, tied in a closet, or placed in the corner. Gimps should be used in sadistic ways; gimps exist to be tortured and used. This dichotomy of storage and pain creates in the gimp a profound gratefulness for any attention given to it. After being stored for long periods, gimp would be excited for any use at all even the most painful and kinky uses and after being used harshly gimp may be desperate or excited to return to storage.

Nothing but an object, gagged and fastened to my wall.