By bondagegimp
Seduction – an interlude
I must have been sobbing loudly in my sleep, because I wake up to Bob shaking me. “What’s wrong, kiddo? Another panic attack? Do you want me to get you out of the sack?” Bob sounds really worried! I have to collect myself first, my voice actually sounds tearful. I’ve lost my composure in my dream, I must have really been crying. With my voice still choked with tears, I say: “It was just a nightmare, I had a bad dream. But I’m fine, I didn’t panic.” I feel safe in the sleepsack and in Bob’s arms, I don’t want to get out at the moment, on the contrary. I bury my head in Bob’s muscles. He hugs me, kisses me, comforts me.
He nestles his head against mine. He just holds me tightly, very tightly in his arms. As if he doesn’t want to let me go. Like in my dream. As I realize this, a tear rolls out of my eye. Bob stays awake, holding me close until I regain my composure and fall asleep. When I wake up again, bright morning light is already coming through the curtains. Bob is still holding me tightly. He notices that I’m awake and hugs me even tighter. I rub my head against him – it’s the only reaction I can show. After a while, Bob says he’s going to get us breakfast. I lie down alone. The dark feeling in my stomach quickly returns. But it gets lost in the mix of emotions, and the sadness from the dream that still hangs over me is the heaviest of them all. I crawl in bed to where Bob was sleeping, crawl my head under his blanket, smell him. It calms me down.
Bob comes back, sits down at the head of the bed. He leans forward, opens the chain that ties the bondage bag to the foot of the bed, then the chain on the collar, pulls me towards him, into his lap, until I’m lying half upright on top of him. He opens the zipper of the outer mask, then over my mouth. I can see again! I see Bob’s bulging muscles, still in the Rubbershorty. And I see a delicious breakfast on a tray. I’m still in my bondage bag and Bob makes no move to change that. He feeds me again in bites. I also get coffee. It feels so good, so safe.
“Let’s take off our suits and have a shower. Then we’ll pack your things and I’ll take you into town. But until then, like I said yesterday, you stay under my control. Okay?” With these words, he begins to untie the bondage bag and gradually frees me from it.
I can move freely again. Still locked in my suit, but otherwise free! Bob hooks a leash onto my collar and pulls me into the tiled room. Bob seems so relaxed. And also a little careless. Usually he was always very proactive. He only undid one restraint after he put another one on. But it doesn’t have the playfulness of the car. It’s almost a bit listless, as if he’s only doing it now to finish the game cleanly.
Even when he takes off my collar and removes my mask. Yes, he hugs me, tousles my sweaty hair, licks the sweat from my face that had collected under the mask. But it’s not as intense. And only then does it occur to him that I’m too free, he fetches a collar with a chain, puts it on me, but only hangs it on a hook on the wall, then takes off my suit and removes the plug and catheter. It feels so good!!!! After almost 36 hours, my skin is free again for the first time. Bob rinses me off with a warm jet of water. Then he takes a shower gel and soaps me from head to toe. He takes his time. It’s almost as if he’s caressing my body rather than soaping it up. He rubs my back with his soapy big hands, my chest, reaches between my thighs. My cock sticks out stiffly and he lovingly soaps it up too, especially intensively on the glans. He lingers on the crack of my ass for a long time, using lots of soap, and he also seems to want me to be clean inside. He soaps my feet and gently massages the soles of my feet. As he soaps my armpits, he hugs me tightly with a sad look in his eyes.
He presses the shower gel into my hand. “Now it’s your turn.” He turns his back to me, the zipper of his Rubbershorty in front of my eyes. I hesitantly open it. Bob’s muscles bulge out. I can’t resist, I have to touch his sweaty, slippery back, slide my hands over his muscles, lean my head against them briefly. I pull the shorts down. Now Bob is completely naked in front of me – for the first time. I reach for the shower gel and start on his shoulders. At first hesitantly, then more and more eagerly, I grab his muscles, soap them, knead them. I touch him everywhere under the pretext of soaping him up. His ass cheeks, his ass crack. Kneeling, I soap his thighs with fervor, as well as his feet. I soap his balls from behind through his thighs. Then I come to his front, still kneeling. I grab his massive cock, seeing it for the first time. I take care of this magnificent piece with relish. Then I reach higher, soap his stomach, clean his belly button with one finger. I massage his chest with the soapy lather, tracing all the contours of his pectoral muscles. I carefully soap each arm from his axes, lingering particularly long on his upper arms, tracing the fleshy muscles.
How much I had wanted to touch him over the last few days. Bob had always prevented it, only allowing me a small piece of the cake. Now I have everything in front of me, but I’m almost overwhelmed. He makes no effort to pull me away, no chains hold me back, no fist mitts, no rubber between us – just skin on skin.
And yes, it was great to soap, touch and fondle a body like that. And yet it doesn’t give me the fulfillment it promised at first. Bob doesn’t seem to be as one hundred percent into it as he has been the last few days. The careless restraints, the look. Yes, especially the look! It’s no longer the look of a predator on its prey. He looks at me more like a predator might look at a piece of tofu.
I think he has let go, he is releasing me, no, he has already released me. It hurts me, deep down inside. Why isn’t Bob fighting for me? Hadn’t he said himself that he had a crush on me, how great it was with me and everything? And now, it’s all over, so suddenly? But what can he do? I made it clear to him that I wanted to leave today. He accepts it. Maybe I’ve hurt him? He tries not to let it show, but he seems crestfallen.
The scene in the dream comes back to me when he finally turns around and drives away. The feeling of emptiness afterwards. Maybe I have to fight for him?
“Bob, can we talk before you take me into town?” Bob nods, grabs a pair of handcuffs with a long chain and puts them on me behind my back. He takes the chain of my collar off the hook and leads me back to the bedroom, attaches the chain to the bed and disappears for a moment. The chain is long, I can walk around the bedroom. The chain between my hands is also too long and feels too loose. It hangs almost to the back of my knees. I could easily climb over it and bring my hands forward. The shackles only seem symbolic to me. A small voice, very quietly in my head, reminds me of the birdcage. But I don’t listen to it.
I lie down on my bed and think about the last two days. There were difficult moments, but many very nice ones. And very horny ones. I wonder if I could live with Bob. What connects us? Is it just lust or is there more? Can you judge that after two days? How would living together work if it came to a relationship? Bob is looking for a full-time slave – what is that? What does everyday life look like? There were such intimate moments between us, but Bob was also hard on me at times. Everyday life would be a little less spectacular, I think. Perhaps a normal relationship in which Bob ties me up from time to time? Would something like that be conceivable for him?
Bob comes back, he has put on something, a jogging suit made of a shiny, infinitely thin nylon fabric, perhaps a size too small, under which all his muscles, his curves and his cock are clearly visible. He jumps onto the bed and playfully pulls me towards him by the chain of the neck iron. He is holding the mittens he had put on me in the car. This time it’s me to ask him first how he has experienced the last few days. He tells me how much he has enjoyed it with me, that I have given him back his lust and how grateful he is to me for that. He won’t sell all his gear after all, I had encouraged him that one day he might find the right slave. But he wanted to give me the fist mitts as a thank you and as a souvenir.
That sadness rises up in me again. I can’t lose him. Bob notices my mood, asks about it and I tell him about my ambiguous feelings yesterday and how I felt more and more connected to him, longing for him, even though he was only gone for a few minutes. He pulls me closer to him. My hands, negligently tied behind my back, have so much play that when I slide one hand under my back, I can touch him with the other. I touch his crotch, put my hand between his thighs. Through the smooth, thin material, I can feel his muscles, his cock and his plump, thick balls.
Bob wants to explain to me what happened yesterday. “I kept you blind for a whole day, gave you various challenging tasks. I wanted you to get to know the mask in different situations, situations that would make you feel the power of the mask, but also distract you from it, force you to concentrate. In short, I wanted to train you to endure the mask. That worked, as you saw that night. One side effect, however, is that you were completely dependent on me all day. Ever heard of Stockholm? This dependency can lead to affection, even more, something like love. But don’t worry, it will fade after a few days.” He strokes my upper body as he talks. I can’t be satisfied with the explanation. Yes, I had thought something similar in the cell, but there is more. I’m sure of it. I tell him, and when he again tends to play it off, I tell him about my dream. I feel the dream again and become emotional. My voice choked with tears, I tell him that I don’t want to lose him.
As I talk, his embrace gets tighter and tighter. Through the thin nylon material, I can feel his massive broad chest against my naked back. He rests his head on mine and presses me against him as if he never wants to let me go
“I’m so glad you opened up. Honestly, I feel the same way. But I didn’t want to push you, I didn’t want to take advantage of your situation. But I also think there’s something very special between us. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I feel such a strong connection to a person like never before. Your dream touches me immensely, because I feel the same way. My heart is full of sadness at the thought that you are leaving now. You know, I was already thinking about introducing you to my friends – one of them is celebrating his birthday tonight, so that would have been a good opportunity. I would love to go for a walk with you, show you the beautiful landscape, watch the sunset together from the mountain. And of course, I admit, I’d like to continue playing with you. It was the hottest sex I’ve had in ages.
If I could make a wish: I would like to spend a few more days with you. I’d like us to get to know each other even better, for me to show you more about my life here, about what life as a slave could be like. But I don’t want to force you. You have to know and decide what you want to do on your vacation. You’re young, you want to enjoy freedom, I can understand that. ”
Bob sketched out a way out, something between yes and no, just stay a few more days and then see. The thought of being without him had choked my throat. A new door has just opened, a new path. I notice myself relaxing a little. Just a few more days. I look at him. “I think that’s a good idea!”
Bob’s face brightens, he beams at me and hugs me tightly. Bob kisses me deeply and continues to hold me tightly in his arms. My hand in his crotch senses that something is stirring there. “I’m so happy you’re staying a while longer!” A while? We said a few days. Is a while more or less than a few days? Maybe we should clarify a few more points? While I’m thinking, Bob reaches for the chain between my hands, takes the middle link, pulls it to the collar and fastens it there. Now the chain is no longer too long, my hands are held securely behind my back. Bob turns me with my back to him, my hands now touching his cock through the thin, smooth nylon. His cock is back to maximum size within seconds; I can feel Bob’s unbridled lust again.
The chains that were too lax for me just a moment ago, yes, felt symbolically only, are suddenly quite restrictive. I realize that we haven’t really talked about the details yet. Have I just given Bob carte blanche? I start to say something when his hand reaches in front of my mouth and out of the corner of my eye I see a red ball, which he now shoves into my mouth. Surprised at the sudden attack, I resist, but Bob presses my face down onto the mat, pushes me down with his whole body weight and attaches some straps to the back of my head.
He pulls me close again and looks me in the eye. “Let Bob do it, boy. We’ll make good use of the time, don’t worry. But things are going to change a bit. So far, you’ve been – what did we say? – my guest on a journey of self-discovery. From now on, you’ll be a probationary slave. I may sometimes do things to you or demand things from you that I wouldn’t have done before. I will treat you as I would treat you as my permanent slave. I know you’d like to endlessly negotiate the details of what we do, what we don’t do and for how long – but that’s not how it works. If we’re going to do this, then you have to trust me. I’ll take care of it. I can see how you’re doing. Don’t worry, I won’t break you, you’re very precious to me. But I will challenge you, I will push you to your limits, I will try to push you beyond your limits. And I will also know when the trial period is over. These are the conditions. The question is, are you ready to take this step? If not, I’ll untie you and take you to the city. If yes, then you put yourself in my hands now. The question is: do you trust Bob? I’ll let you think about it a bit, I’ll stay with you. Give me a sign if you want to answer.”
He lies down next to me again, holding me in his arms. My cock had become hard again while he was talking. He didn’t touch it, just stroked my naked upper body. His cock, however, is as hard as I’ve ever seen it. My hands can’t help but feel him. My head is buzzing with thoughts. Should I get involved? I can’t get a clear thought. Is this all Bob’s plan? Did he brainwash me yesterday? Then why does he bring it up himself, the Stockholm syndrome, downplaying the effect at first? Had he already given up on me or was he playing it, a trick, reverse psychology? Or did I only realize at that moment how much I like Bob, maybe even love him?
What a thicket of assumptions and considerations, double bottoms and pitfalls. Or am I just reading too much into it? Bob reacts on instinct and he’s very emotional. Yes, behind a tough facade he is very emotional. I saw it in the look on his face. First the sad, empty look when it all came down to saying goodbye. Then the hopeful flash when I still wanted to talk. And now, his joy when I agreed, which immediately turned into lust again. The look of the predator again. If anything, his lust, his predatory gaze, worries me. And at the same time, I saw it: Bob isn’t Bob without this look, that’s his energy.
Damn, I have to decide. He gives me time, lies calmly next to me. A fair move not to take my first yes as a yes, but to ask again, to give me the opportunity to think everything through in peace. But what good is thinking? I can’t play through all the options, I’ll never find out what is spontaneous and what is calculated. I think the most important thing is my feelings, only they can help me now. How do I feel about one answer or the other. If I say no now, Bob will be sad, but he’ll untie me and drive me into town. He gives me the mitts as a souvenir, such a nice gesture. I get out… I can’t think any further, tears welling up inside me. I’m lying here in Bob’s arms, so safe, so happy. I can feel his body, his warmth, his breath. No, I can’t do it, I can’t leave. Not today!
I snuggle up to him, bury my head in his arms. Bob leans over me. “Is that your answer?” I nod yes. I feel the nylon around Bob’s hard cock getting wet. “Bob will take good care of you!”
To be continued…
***
The story is a mixture of different fantasies. Some scenes I have experienced myself in a similar, usually somewhat more harmless form. Some scenes came to my mind when I saw photos or videos of sessions, and some scenes were inspired by stories I read here or elsewhere on the internet. However, the feelings I am describing are to a large extent what I have actually experienced.
And by the way. If there is a “Bob” somewhere outside, please contact me on Recon or Romeo. If there is more than one: I have a few requests and would be happy to pass them on. I think many of us would love to fall into the same trap. Thanks!
Please feel free to comment here or send me your comments directly. You’ll find me:
Romeo: bondagegimp
Recon: bondagegimpSTGT
