By JR

I was a mix of exhaustion, frustration, fear, and a bit of anger laying inside a locked box, head trapped in a leather hood, torso in a straightjacket, legs in laced up binders, and myriad straps limiting my movement within the box itself. I had no energy to struggle, which would have been pointless and likely only given Alex reason to somehow further restrain me.  I labored to calm myself, tried to push past the frustration and get into a submissive head space, and maybe even enjoy my predicament or doze off.

I thought about what a hot weekend in New Orleans my boyfriend and I were having.  We were both stressed with work, and this little getaway was much needed.  I hope he was having as much time meeting new people and seeing the city, as I was being locked up within it.  I drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally waking with an erection struggling to grow in my chastity device, or a bit of panic as I forgot where I was and had to calm myself down.  Eventually I woke having to pee, and from that point could no longer fall back asleep, just waited as calmly as possible for release, hoping I would be let out before having to pee myself in this box and surely be punished for that.

I wondered whether David went back to the hotel, stayed here at Alex’s house to keep an eye on me, or found some other fun.  When at long last I could not hold it anymore, I started to struggle and make some noise, moving as best as possible against my restraints, which was not very much at all.  I tensed all of my muscles and thrust upward or side to side against the straps, feeling my limited movement was not enough to even register a sound outside the box.  If I shook as hard as possible, I could make out a subtle rattle of the padlocks, but it was hard to tell through the hood.  Then the box would heat up, and I would calm myself as best as possible, fearing dehydration or suffocation.  I called out through the hood, knowing my voice at its loudest was still muffled coming through the tiny grommet in the thick leather encapsulating my head, then absorbed by the padding inside the box.

Then I thought about consequences.  My intent was to get out and pee, but knowing Alex he might just open the box, take off my hood, and install one of his daunting gags in my mouth before storing me away again.  But then that thought made my dick twitch, and made me think of what a greedy bondage whore I was and how I was getting exactly what I wanted and had no right to complain.  Maybe I purposely wanted to get Alex’s attention for an enhanced round of torture.  I could purposely pee myself, anger Alex, and prepare myself for more punishment.  My ass was empty, craving something to fill it, perhaps electrocute it.  The straight jacket was comfy, but not too tight.  Maybe Alex would notice this and then mummify me or stuff me into a sleep sack before returning me to this box, my tiny little bondage haven somewhere in the confines of this tired old house turned porn set in an unfamiliar neighborhood.  The realization that I was exactly where I wanted to be, my cravings realized and fulfilled, sent me into a great feeling of contentment.  Instead of fearing my current predicament, I started to lament how unfulfilling it would feel to be freed of restraints.  My senses were overwhelmed through this long weekend of nearly continuous bondage, humiliation, and use, and it was pure ecstasy, a party I never wanted to end.  But I still had to pee.

The sun was rising.  I had no way of seeing or telling time, but I knew the night was coming to an end.  The lid was unlocked at last, my straps released, and I was slowly lifted up out of the box, disoriented and searching for my balance.  I stood as someone silently unlaced the leg binders, doing a bit of a pee dance through this lengthy process, and was finally directed to the bathroom.  I finally heard a voice.  It was Alex telling me to stand in the shower and pee.  He could tell I needed to go badly, and waiting for the straight jacket and hood to come off would take too long.  I relieved myself in no particular direction.  When I finished, Alex guided me back out of the shower and out of the bathroom.  I felt the cold tile under my feet turn to smooth wood, as we entered the hallway.  Then he led me down the hall, turned me, and into another room.  Here I felt softness, a carpet or area rug.  He pushed me gently forward until my thighs hit a barrier, the edge of a bed.  Alex pushed me forward and positioned me in the bed, using a softer touch than I imaged him capable of.  I thought this was strange, was he making me lie in his bed to cuddle or something?  But then I felt another body in the bed and caught a familiar smell.  It was David.  I could hear his heavy breathing, still sleeping.

Alex pulled a blanket over us and left.  Leaving me still hooded and in the straightjacket.  I felt the best of both worlds, still bound but feeling the warmth of David’s body, his mere presence next to me replacing the apprehension I felt inside the box with a sense of fulfillment and safety.  Eventually David stirred.   I heard him chuckle when he discovered me, in my condition, in his bed.  David took his time waking up, cuddling, getting up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth, and eventually returning to bed to cuddle some more, rubbing his hard and naked body against mine, teasing my ass with his dick, and rubbing my sore body through the straightjacket.  He whispered “Ready to get free?”  In truth I was not, and I hesitated with an answer.  He laughed again.  “I know you want to stay locked up all day, but it’s time to get going for a run.”  Even on vacation, his dedication to our exercise regimen is unflappable.

David released the hood first, then took his time with the straightjacket, asking me how I liked it and whether we should add one like it to our collection.  Yes, I liked it, and yes, we should get one.  We agreed on rubber instead of leather.  My arms were free and the air felt cool.  The leather straightjacket was dripping with my sweat.  My shoulders were cramped and my legs red from the tight straps running between them.  David asked about the chastity device, and I explained that Alex threatened to mail the key home.   He promised to work on Alex for the key, knowing the issues I faced with airport security and a metal chastity device before, but not before our run.  David tossed me some running shorts, of course the shortest he could find in my suitcase, which had been moved from our hotel to Alex’s house.  (I assumed David checked us out of the hotel.)  This metal device made my balls ache, and now I was going to have to run with my junk bouncing around in tiny shorts.  I looked at him pleadingly.  “This is just embarrassing.  You’d never make me run like this at home.”  David’s response: “Blame Alex.  I am sure he has all kinds of compassion.”  Of course I knew if I mentioned anything to Alex, there would be no chance of getting the key.  I looked in the mirror, seeing just the short and shiny blue shorts over my chastity device and my running sneakers.  It was a hot look for a go-go boy, much less for a run through the streets of New Orleans.  I have been catcalled and had “faggot” yelled at me on many a run, but I never felt more deserving of the derogatory attention than today.  The fading, but still visible, lines on my back from Friday night’s punishment and the straps of the straightjacket overnight added another layer of embarrassment.

The miles passed in the humid morning as we ran through the city, along the river and up through the Garden District, before looping back to Alex’s house.  My metal clad dick bounced in my tiny shorts with every step.  I tried to distract myself from the aching by taking in the streetscape.  We returned to Alex’s house drenched in sweat, then jumped in the pool to cool off before showering and packing for our last short day in the city and travel home.  We found Alex making breakfast and reading the paper, and went to say our thanks for his awesome hosting.  And of course, to sort out the metal chastity issue.  I figured it was better to let David do the talking.

This simple request turned into a negotiation process, as in what will David and I do for the key?   David tried promising to lock me up once past security, but that was not good enough.  Finally they reached some deal, involving a predicament for both David and me.  We were free to spend the day sightseeing and wandering the French Quarter and would get the key to my chastity device at the airport.  But, we were both to spend the day in a rubber cat suits, asses plugged.  It was 90 degrees out and humid.  And David is not one for wandering around with his ass full.  I liked the idea, just to see my boyfriend experience a bit of the torture he usually heaped on me.

We suited up.  I wore my own rubber suit, which David had packed.  It covered me down to my ankles and wrists, up to my neck.  Each opening had a thicker rubber strap sewn in with a buckle and hasp for a small padlock.  It covered just enough that it could be worn under clothing with minimal shiny black areas peeking out, padlocks dangling a bit but not obvious.  A big silicone plug came next, rippled and tapering in to a small stem to stay in place.  Then Alex zipped up the back and produced five little padlocks for the wrists, ankles, and neck openings.  I grabbed some jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, and boots.  David struggled more to get into the rubber suit Alex provided.  It was a shorter suit, allowing him to wear shorts, but so tight over his chiseled torso and thick muscular thighs.  It was just a hot image of David, one I think about when he is gone and I close my eyes and fantasize about him.  I could not help but run my hands over his slick body, which I did until interrupted by Alex handing me another silicone plug to fit inside my boyfriend.  I bent him over the bed in front of us, and then loosened his ass with my tongue.  I lubed up my fingers and went to work, relaxing his ass enough to take the plug, before slipping it in.  He gasped for air taking this plug inside of him, and winced as I zipped up his suit.  He pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt – lucky bastard – and then Alex summarily kicked us out to go enjoy the day as tourists.

By the time we walked to the French Quarter we were soaked inside.  I lost count of the bottles of water we purchased that Monday.  We went into a few galleries, stopped for a couple of drinks at one of the gay bars that never closes, and generally whiled away hours until it was time to return to Alex’s house and on to the airport.  We got back with more than two hours before our flight, plenty of time to pack and grab a cab to the airport.  But no one answered the door.  David called and texted Alex, pounded on the door, and paced furiously.  For a half hour we waited at the door, sweating and getting angry.  Then we decided to find a way into the yard to at least wait in the shade by the pool, or perhaps find a back door open.  We got into the yard by jumping a side gate, but the house itself was completely locked.  We debated how long to wait before breaking a window as our flight was now an hour and a half off.  Finally Alex came out of the house to retrieve us.  No apologies, no explanation.  He looked hungover.  Had he been sleeping, or was he fucking with us on purpose?

We raced inside to pack and call a cab.  Alex offered a ride to the airport, and while David was so angry he did not want to accept it, I knew it would be quicker than waiting for a cab.  We had no time to change, and Alex suggested we do this in the bathroom after getting through security.  A terrible idea, but better than missing our flight.  We suffered through traffic in Alex’s tiny convertible, me stuffed in the back seat and crammed with our luggage, which did not all fit in the trunk.  We made it to the airport with little time to spare.  Alex helped us with our luggage and walked us inside to the check-in counter.  Now all we needed was the key to my chastity device, and to find a private bathroom.  Alex played coy and I lost my patience.  He played dumb about the key, purposely delaying.  The strict master roll at his house was fine, but not here.  David had enough of this and went in search of a restroom.  He could not deal with the plug in his ass any longer, was no longer into playing Alex’s games.  His suit was not padlocked on like mine, though even I was at the breaking point where I would cut off my expensive and beloved rubber layer for some relief.  Alex finally reached in his jacket and produced an envelope and handed it to me.  He thanked me for the entertainment and left.

I immediately found a bathroom, headed to the last stall, rooted through my carry-on for some fresh clothes, and then opened the envelope.  Inside I found two key blanks and a note:

“Keys mailed this morning, should arrive in a few days.  Welcome back any time.  –Alex”

***

With the magic of TSA Prescreen, David and I made it through security without an ordeal, and onto our plane.  As soon as we arrived home, we went to work with bolt cutters on the five little padlocks securing my rubber suit.  I was not going to endure a few days inside, trapped in my own sweat.  I reeked and it had only been on for 16 hours.  An envelope with keys arrived in two days, but only the keys to the padlocks we had already cut off.  Alex promises to send the keys to the chastity device after we return the gear with which we boarded our flight home.   We shall see.  In the mean time I am back to work with a huge smile on my face, happy boyfriend, and locked up dick.  And David is sketching up plans to build a box.

 

Metal would like to thank JR for the story!