By Bondagegimp
Darkness
Black. Everything is black. It was still light in the cabin when Bob put in my contact lenses. But there’s nothing left of it, not the slightest bit of light. My eyes dart around in panic, trying to see anything, at least a little bit of brightness. But nothing! Since the second lens was in my eye, I haven’t been able to calm down. It’s too brutal how Bob simply took away my sight. One moment it was light, now it’s just black. Blacker than any darkness.
Now Bob snuggles up to me, half on top of me, one leg over my legs so he could rub my diaper with his thigh, or at least I can feel the weight of his leg muscles on my cock. His upper body is half on top of me, one arm around me. His head is very close to mine; I can feel his beard, his breathing. He speaks soothingly to me, holding my head. At the same time, I feel him staring at me. I knew his gaze, when he pierced me with his eyes, peering deep into my innermost being, fathoming me. I feel his face above mine. I know he is staring at me like that again. I know how closely he studied other people’s gazes and how much he can read in them. But it must be different if the gaze isn’t returned. The black contact lenses work both ways. I’m blind, but Bob can’t look into me either. It seems to fascinate Bob incredibly, because he remains completely motionless for several minutes. “Such helpless eyes” – that’s what he says again and again.
Then he strokes my head, kisses me all over my face. The head harness bothers him, so he takes it off. While I’m still wondering whether it’ll do any good to beg or talk in any other way, Bob is already sealing my lips with a foil plaster. This time without a gag in my mouth, but the plaster is enough to keep me from saying a word. Strangely, I’m almost relieved. He makes the decision for me whether to beg or pull myself together.
My head is almost free now – except for the plaster and the collar, which doesn’t hold me too tightly to the bed – I have about ten to twenty centimeters of slack. Most importantly, for once, I have nothing on my face. No mask, no harness. Just this wafer-thin plaster – and the contact lenses. Even for Bob, it’s not often that he can see my face completely without anything over it. He strokes my foil-covered lips with his fingers. Kisses me on the mouth. Holds my head with his hands. He’s probably looking at me. “So helpless. This tiny little thing makes you so helpless. These contact lenses are to your eyes like the mitts are to your hands. A small intervention renders them completely useless. How your eyes wander aimlessly. They can’t find a place to rest. There’s nothing to see.”
As Bob says this, he continues to stroke me. He snuggles up to me. It’s as if he wants to comfort me. Does he feel pity? Pity for me because of what he’s doing to me, because it turns him on? How crazy is that? And why do I find his pity comforting, even though I know all this? Or is Bob also seeking comfort from me?
It’s been a few days since I was thinking about Bob’s labyrinths, which are always constructed in such a way that in the end only Bob is the redeemer. Back then I thought he constructed them for his victims, playing with them. I’m slowly starting to wonder if he really is the builder of these labyrinths, or if he is perhaps trapped in them himself and lures others in so that he is no longer alone. Does he need my closeness as much as I need his? Yes, Bob has physical power over me. He is stronger than I am, he controls me. Since he put the fist mitts on me there hasn’t been a minute – with a few exceptions – when he wasn’t in control of me. And he has penetrated deep into my psyche. I always had the feeling he was manipulating me.
But how much did I manipulate him? Yes, it’s an absurd thought that I could manipulate him, helpless, exposed little thing I am. I test it out, lifting my head slightly to touch his. He immediately comes to me, snuggles his head against mine. He’s responding to me. Perhaps he’s been waiting, anxious, for me to show him a gesture of affection now that I’m slowly recovering from the shock.
At the picnic, at sunset, he told me that all he wanted was to stay with him. And that he wanted me completely, entirely. Or not at all. Looking back, it was almost like a marriage proposal. In a strange way and in a strange form, like it is when one is the other’s prisoner. Like a scary movie. But Bob really meant it. It wasn’t an act. He really wants it. He needs it. He needs me. And I didn’t answer. I left him hanging.
When I feel him on top of me, cuddling up to me, I have a strong urge to hug him. And I suspect that he’s tying me up to prevent exactly that. He wants to be in control. Not because he’s afraid of closeness. Jad is afraid of closeness; he has issues with being gay. But Bob is afraid of rejection. Bob ties me up, locks me away, deprives me of my senses, and in doing so triggers me, makes me addicted to his body, his muscles, but never gives me enough. He wants to make sure that the moment when he, Bob, allows me to react, I will truly crave him, desire him, want nothing else but him. That’s why he creates situations in which I constantly have to think about him, because I’m dependent on him, reliant on him, physically and mentally.
I don’t think it’s the fear that I’ll run away. Sure, my escape offended him, hurt him, and unsettled him. And that’s precisely why this was an important step for us. I’ve seen him more clearly since then. I see his vulnerable side. But why is Bob so vulnerable? He could have anyone, with his looks, his winning manner, his irresistible smile! The guys at the party would have all given themselves to him immediately.
Now he’s staring at me again. I can feel it. He’s raised his head; he’s now ten, twenty centimeters above me. He strokes my eyebrows with his finger, tracing the contours of my eyes. The contact lenses are new to him too, and they must be incredibly fascinating to him. I feel his cock against my leg, which is just getting hard again. Bob strokes my diaper with his other hand, feeling it, checking to see if my cock is getting hard too.
I try to turn away. I’m embarrassed that despite everything—or because of it? —I’m getting hard again. It shouldn’t really surprise me anymore, and yet I still can’t believe it. Bob does indescribable things to me, but it turns me on. And every time I feel ashamed because it doesn’t fit into my worldview, my values. I couldn’t tell any of my friends or family about it! It’s what they call perverse; it doesn’t fit into the bourgeois world.
Of course, Bob doesn’t let himself be shaken off. He easily gets to my diaper, and even through the two layers of padding, he can easily feel my hard cock. I hear him laughing. He likes that. And he also likes that I’m still embarrassed.
At least I have the excuse that this is all happening against my will. I’m being forced, manipulated, and have no choice. And that’s the way it is. I resist what Bob does to me often enough, and not just for show. I’m serious. I’m often genuinely scared in those moments, like just now when he put in the black contact lenses. And I find them unbearable, as well as the taped mouth, the collar, the straitjacket, the diaper, all the restraints. I want out! But at the same time, it makes me so horny that I’m seriously considering staying with Bob!
And Bob needs exactly that. He needs this inner resistance. That’s why he didn’t want the two guys from the bar, that’s probably why he doesn’t want any of the guys at the party. He loves seeing my fear, my desperation. Those are the moments that turn him on the most. I can’t fool myself about that. If I stay with him, he’ll keep creating situations like this because it turns him on, and because these situations bind me even closer to Bob, make me dependent on him. Like now. The contact lenses are teribble, they scare me, I feel so helpless, and that’s why I’m so glad Bob is here, half on top of me, that I can feel him stroking me. Not only because it calms me down, but also because Bob makes me horny again.
Suddenly a thought occurs to me. How does Bob actually feel about this? I only ever think about my inner conflicts, but what is it like for Bob? Bob has enormous empathy, he is a very compassionate person, he can see other people’s feelings. And of course, when he does something to me, he assumes that something inside me actually wants it because it will make me horny at some point. That’s why he likes to check my cock to feel validated. But until that happens, I do suffer. And it doesn’t always happen as quickly as it does now. When I was in the padded cell, I often had to fight with myself for hours, fighting off a panic.
And even though it was faster now, I was panicking for a few minutes and resisting violently. And he just watched me and it made his cock hard. He sees that I’m suffering and that turns him on. And he knows it. What goes through his mind at a moment like that? How does he see himself in it? It must be a conflict for him too. Doesn’t he ask himself why he has to do this to me just to satisfy his desires? It must be on his mind. Especially in the past, when he perhaps wasn’t as self-confident and stable. And unlike me, he has no excuse. He’s not being forced, nor is he just a passive participant; on the contrary, he builds up the situation, plans it beforehand.
Bob is so compassionate. I can’t imagine that this doesn’t put him in a dilemma. Does he just assume that it will turn me on at some point? I can’t imagine that. He reacts to what he sees. He must already sense my horniness in the moment, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to commit such cruel acts.
Meanwhile, Bob continues to knead my cock through the thick padding of my diaper and pants. He’s opened the zippers over my nipples and is playing with my nipples with his fingers. I can feel his body next to and on top of me. Despite the restraints, I feel comfortable and secure. My horniness is back, and I moan softly into the gag. As if Bob had been listening to me think, he begins to speak: “It’s so nice to watch your horniness develop. No matter how strong the fear and despair are at first, there’s always a tiny spark of lust visible. And little by little, desire takes over, pushing fear and despair into the background. But they’re still there, an underlying threat.”
While Bob talks, he puts earplugs in my ears again. When Bob says something in my ear, I can hear him clearly, but otherwise the earplugs significantly muffle all other sounds. I get uneasy again. “And emotions can change very quickly.” Bob gets up from the bed. I have no idea what he’s doing, where he is. What is he up to? Is he standing next to the bed? Has he left the cabin? I can’t say; with the earplugs in, I can’t hear him if he moves. And I can’t see him either. It doesn’t really make a difference whether he’s standing next to me or not. As long as I don’t feel him, he’s gone.
For a brief moment, it’s okay. I hope he’s just out to get something and will be back soon. I hold my breath, trying to hear him. Now the contact lenses are suddenly very uncomfortable, frightening. I want to reach up to my face with my hands, to free my eyes, but my arms are tightly bound to my torso, not moving an inch. The restraints I’d forgotten in Bob’s arms suddenly become fully present again. I notice my breathing becoming nervous and have the impulse to sit up. After a few centimeters, I feel the hard tug of the chain on my collar; it pulls me back relentlessly. My breathing becomes hectic now; my nostrils are too small, I want to breathe through my mouth, but it’s taped shut. Now I tug at the restraints, desperately trying to free my mouth. I want to turn on my side, look for something to use to pull the plaster off, but the restraints won’t allow it. My legs are slightly spread by my pants, my arms are tied to my sides, and the chains that secure my ankle cuffs and collar to the bed don’t have enough slack. I can only turn my upper body just enough to reach the pillow with my mouth—it only presses the plaster tighter over my mouth.
I turn back onto my back and feel Bob’s hand on my leg. He strokes my bare thigh. It helps me calm down a bit. Bob is there, has been there the whole time. Only one meter away. But that one meter makes such a difference. And even the touch of his hand isn’t enough. It’s enough to pull me together; it keeps the panic at bay. At least! But the pleasant feeling from just a moment ago is far away. It’s a pure demonstration of power. In just a few minutes, Bob can completely reverse my feelings, simply by moving one meter away from me!
I beg into the gag, wanting Bob back with me. But instead, Bob pulls his hand away. This time I know he’s standing next to me, watching me. He enjoys his power, delights in the conflict and fluctuation of my emotions. At the moment, I’m just his toy, his entertainment. It helps me little to know he’s there. At least I can hold myself together for a little longer, but it only takes a few minutes longer before the sensory deprivation overwhelms me again: darkness and the dull buzzing of the earplugs. The dark feelings resurface. I can’t suppress the impulse, I try to move my hands, I want to sit up, but everything just reinforces the feeling of helplessness. Bob makes me squirm longer than the first time. Only when I feel tears in my eyes does his hand return. This time he reaches into my crotch, feeling for my cock. It probably won’t surprise him that it’s completely flaccid. During the first panic attack he shrank back and since then it has had no reason to become stiff again.
Now he pulls his hand back, but shortly afterward, I feel movement on the pillow. I turn my head in that direction, moving toward it. It’s his feet in his socks. I can tell by the smell; luckily, they don’t stink; it’s the same smell as the sneakers. I lean my head against his feet — they’re the only thing I’m getting from Bob right now, and they comfort me. Bob seems to have moved a chair next to the head of the bed and placed his feet on the pillow next to me.
It works better than a hand on my thigh. I can snuggle up, rub my head against them. Bob responds a little with his feet, strokes my face, caresses my sealed lips with his toes. I go with his feet, leaning my head towards them. I cuddle with his feet because, once again, Bob doesn’t give me anything else! I move again in the narrow corridor that Bob has reserved for me. And it’s just enough. It’s nothing like before, when Bob was lying next to me, but it’s enough to bring back the desire. Not strong, just a little. He controls my feelings very precisely now!
As if to show me he’s noticed, he slides a foot down to the diaper and kneads my cock a little. I don’t know if Bob can feel my semi-hard cock, but I don’t think he needs the reassurance — he can tell by my body language.
After a while, I notice his foot movements becoming less frequent, less purposeful, more superficial. I have the feeling he’s doing something else at the same time. Maybe he’s reading on his tablet or watching Jad and the doggy, casually stroking me a little with his feet. Despite everything, it’s somehow reassuring, and my mind becomes calmer again.
I have to think about what he said earlier, that there was a small spark of lust in me right from the start. When does lust arise in me? What was it like just before? Did it perhaps come at the moment when I thought he was taking off my straitjacket, but instead he tightened the straps? At that moment I became afraid, felt frustrated because I had hoped to be free again. But at that moment, I also felt a tingling sensation in my stomach, a slight tickling in my crotch. This feeling always comes when I notice that Bob is taking control again. I thought it was excitement. But is this perhaps lust after all? Is this the spark Bob is talking about? And can he see it in my face?
I know I’m never good at hiding my feelings. While I’m rational on the one hand, my feelings always quickly become physically visible: my facial expressions, my gaze, my body language, my voice — everything changes. And Bob is good at reading emotions, especially mine. And he loves observing my emotions, especially when he’s at the point where he can turn them on and off at will — like he’s doing right now. From fear and despair to lust and security, back to fear, then relaxation and an underlying horniness. He’s become a master at playing with my emotions.
Bob is finished with whatever he was doing. He comes back into bed with me. Gratefully, I snuggle up to him, enjoying feeling him so close again. He hugs me tightly, as he often does. Protective, comforting. He kisses me deeply on the plaster and lies down to sleep.
I don’t fully understand how Bob justifies his contradictory behavior to himself, or at least how he explains it to himself, but I’m slowly getting the hang of it. On a rational level, my desire is his justification, meaning that in the end, I want it myself. On an emotional level, however, it’s certainly stronger. Once he’s gotten me to the point where he sees that spark in me, he can start his game and then he manages to create situations in which I need him, situations that I could never bear without his presence, where I beg for him to be with me, to touch me, to hug me. Rationally, it’s twisted logic, because he’s the one who puts me in this desperate situation. But just as I know this in my head and still long for him, in the same way, Bob can know this rationally and still feel a strong sense of pity, follow his protective instinct. I can imagine that it gives him just as much comfort, that it gives him inner satisfaction when he comforts me, just as it triggers a feeling of comfort in me when he does it. Bob and I are very similar in that respect — only in reverse. We complement each other perfectly. And when he also senses my lust, his pity turns into lust too, and the caring, loving Bob becomes the passionate, sometimes somewhat wild Bob. When he plays with my feelings, lets me swing back and forth between despair and lust, or better yet, when he manages to have both within me at the same time, wrestling with each other, then the same thing happens to him. Only with him it is the loving care and the wild lust that come together. Either way, I am his perfect counterpart; we resonate perfectly.
All he needs is my admission that I want all of this. I have to admit it once. From then on, the construct is coherent for Bob. And final. I shudder a little. The finality of my decision is one of the things that bothers me most. He wants me all or nothing. Forever. I’m still struggling with that. I have to understand why this is so important to him. Maybe then I can negotiate it with him again. But the tiredness is setting in. Bob has already fallen asleep; I can feel his regular, deep breathing, his warm, heavy body next to and on top of me.
Doggy
Everything is still black. My eyes are open; I’m not wearing a blindfold, a mask, or anything. And yet I can’t see anything, not even the slightest bit of light. I’m sitting in the car, in the passenger seat. The diaper, the padded rubber pants, the straitjacket — I’m still wearing everything. My arms are crossed in front of me again, and the sleeves are tied behind my back. At least Bob removed the earplugs this morning.
If a car were coming towards us, the driver wouldn’t notice anything. Just someone sitting in the passenger seat with his arms crossed. The straitjacket wouldn’t be noticeable at first glance. The transparent film plaster over my lips is only visible up close. And the black contact lenses are definitely not visible. Although they’re probably noticeable up close. Bob was still fascinated by the sight this morning.
I groan. Bob just drove over a pothole. The large plug, still in my hole, was rammed violently into me. My hole is still very sensitive. But feeling Bob’s fist inside me yesterday was a wonderful moment. His adding the blackout contact lenses, however, was hard for me. Waking up was especially bad. I was able to sleep soundly, in Bob’s arms as always. But that made the shock greater, especially today, because in my dreams I was somewhere else entirely. When I opened my eyes, everything was black, even though I had nothing in front of me. Like the evening before, I wanted to grab my face, couldn’t, tried to sit up, the collar pulled me back, then panic, my mouth was stuck shut, etc. — but Bob was lying next to me, noticed it immediately, held me tight, talked to me, comforted me, kissed me until I calmed down again.
Then things moved quickly. “We’ll have breakfast at home, with Jad and his doggy.” Everything packed up, and off we went in the car. We seem to be there. Bob pulls me out of the car by the leash and towards the house. Jad greets us and asks how we liked the contact lenses. Bob laughs. “We haven’t quite agreed yet. I think they’re fantastic. The little brat is still a bit uncomfortable with them, but I’m sure he’ll get used to them soon! I’ll tell you later.” I just grumble into the plaster, but they ignore me and pull me upstairs by my collar into the tiled room. There, the collar is reattached to two chains suspended from the ceiling, then they remove my leg irons, spreader pants, diaper, and finally the straitjacket. My hands are immediately handcuffed behind my back, provisionally. I am soaped up and washed. My hole is thoroughly rinsed with a hose. I endure everything patiently; it’s become routine for me by now, even though Jad doesn’t miss a chance to fondle me until my cock is hard again.
After drying me off, they lift my feet one by one and I get the now somewhat familiar feeling of a rubber suit being put on me. First one leg up to the knee, then the other. Then the suit is pulled up to my hips, and my cock and balls are pulled through the hole. Over that goes the steel harness around my hips and through my crotch, my balls and cock go through a ring, a steel plug in my hole, more narrow steel bands around my balls, and finally a cage over my cock and balls. I remember it’s the cock cage, which can also deliver stimulating or painful electric shocks. I’ve worn it a few times, not least during my escape.
Now it continues upwards. My arms are freed to be tucked into the sleeves, which end in tight latex bags. My hands are clenched into fists again and are useless. Jad and Bob don’t even bother to tie them back up. They give me a few minutes to feel myself around with my useless fists. First, I grab my face, trying to push out my contact lenses or grab the plaster, but it’s completely hopeless. Next, I feel the harness around my cock, but there’s nothing I can do there either. Neither surprises me. I can’t bend over or walk around because of the collar secured to the ceiling. A final, helpless attempt to remove the collar makes it clear to me that there’s not much I can do in this position. But so as not to give up my small amount of freedom right away, I flail my arms through the air, searching for Bob, find him, pull him towards me, and cling to him. He returns my hug, first kissing me on the plaster, then even taking it off and kissing me. It’s a long, intense kiss. His tongue penetrates deep into my mouth.
While we’re still kissing, Jad takes off my collar and pulls the mask over my head. Bob lets go of me briefly, but continues to kiss me intensely while Jad zips up the mask and puts the collar back on. Only then does Bob let go of me. They untie the chains to the ceiling, pull me — still blind — by the collar into the next room, lay me on the bed, and turn me onto my stomach.
There’s something beneath me; they adjust me a little. One of them sits on my back. Next, I feel them grabbing one of my legs and bending it until my foot touches my butt. The one sitting on my back holds my leg in position, while the other tries to pull something over my leg from my knee. My brief attempt to resist them remains hopeless against the two muscular men, especially since my arms, although not tied, can’t help much as I’m lying on my stomach. My first leg is quickly put into the sheath, and it’s the second’s turn. Each leg is now folded into a stump in its own bag, but the two bags are connected at the crotch. At that moment, I know what they’re doing.
They’re putting me in the rubber suit Doggy was wearing yesterday! When I realize this, I start to resist more violently! The suit looked very severe, and I’m afraid they’re going to keep me in it all day, especially since Jad will surely egg Bob on. Since my mouth is free, I beg Bob to give me a break, but next they pull the mask of the suit over my face, and I feel a ball gag in front of my mouth. I shake my head, but one holds it tight, the other presses against the gag until I have to open my mouth. The harness is quickly put around my head, securing the gag firmly in my mouth. It seems to be the same one Doggy wore yesterday.
The one on my back — I assume it’s Bob, but I’m not sure — has turned around so he can help with the gag. Now they both work on my right arm. That too is bent and tucked into the suit, followed immediately by the left. I have no chance to resist. Once both arms are in, Bob gets off my back. I try to pull my arms out of the suit, but it’s impossible. The suit is tight and oppressive, squeezing my limbs together, the second hood sits tightly over the first. And now they’re zipping up the back, making everything even tighter! I whine into the gag, this can’t be true! While one of them zips up the last few centimeters, the other puts a wide collar around my neck, which I suspect is the same one from yesterday. Today they’re obviously making me the doggy!
When they’re finished, they turn me onto my back. I can now wave my useless stubs in the air; I feel completely helpless. Now I can hear Bob in my ear. “Calm down, boy. You’ll get through this. I’m always with you. We’re going to have a lot of fun. And now stay calm, I’m going to take out the contact lenses.” At least!! Bob reaches through the eye openings and takes out the first lens, then the other. The relief is only slight, however; the unpleasant restriction of the suit is too strong. Furthermore, my field of vision is very limited because the eye openings of the two masks are on top of each other. But at least it’s light again and I can see Bob’s face. He smiles at me and kisses my gag.
“Okay, let’s see how you can walk in that suit. And then we have to get the other Doggy from the basement.” They put me on the floor, on my elbows and knees. Luckily, the suit is surprisingly well padded at elbows and knees. In the large mirror on the wall, I see myself in the shiny black suit with a big red ball in my mouth and a wide collar — really just like Doggy yesterday. Bob hooks a leash onto the collar and pulls me into the hallway. Walking is quite strenuous, and it takes a while for me to get my arms and legs halfway coordinated. But it’s not a fluid movement.
Jad has the remote control for the shock collar on my balls and occasionally gives me a short shock, telling me to speed up. Bob slows him down a bit with a quick gesture, but keeps pulling on my collar. It still takes quite a while until we reach the stairs. There, I quickly realize that I can’t go down the stairs like this. I’m too afraid of tripping over and falling down the stairs. Jad can’t resist and gives me another electric shock on the balls. Bob growls at him and takes the remote control away from him.
I try to go down the stairs backwards. It works, but it’s slow. And now Bob loses patience, grabs me under my stomach, and carries me down the stairs, straight to the basement. There he puts me back on my stumps and pulls me into the hallway. Jad goes ahead, opens one of the doors. When I finally get there, I see Jad’s doggy lying there, just as we saw him last night on the security camera: in a rubber suit, his legs and arms tightly bound, his bent legs tied to his balls, and tightly inflated, ball-like rubber hood on his head.
Jad goes to him and grabs his balls, which are already looking a bit blue from the tying. Doggy screams loudly into the mask. Bob goes into the cell with Jad; they talk quietly, so that I can’t understand anything under the two masks. Bob then pulls me into the chain, attaches the leash to an eyelet on the wall, and goes into one of the rooms next door. Jad bends down to his doggy and begins to loosen his bonds, leaving only his wrists tied.
Doggy stretches out his legs, moves his elbows, tries to stretch. It was visibly uncomfortable for him. Jad massages his muscles a bit, now surprisingly gentle and loving. Next, he lets the air out of the mask. You can hear Doggy moaning with relief. When the air is half out, Jad unzips it and pulls it off, including the collar. I had almost forgotten that he was wearing a second mask underneath, like me; it was part of the rubber suit. Doggy needs a moment to get his bearings. He sits up straight and looks around. “Fuck.” The gag was part of the mask, so he can speak freely, but Jad immediately slaps him, and Doggy immediately falls silent.
Now he spots me and starts laughing, barely able to contain himself. He seems very amused to see me in the outfit he was wearing yesterday. He’s still laughing when Bob comes back in and throws a bunch of things onto the floor of the cell. His laughter stifles a bit when he realizes what’s lying on the floor. Apparently, he knows his way around better than I do, because I don’t recognize any of it except for the muzzle I usually wear — with the thick gag. That’s the first thing they put on him, and it finally silences Doggy’s laughter.
Next, they put him on his knees and bend his upper body down so that his ass is pointing upwards. But instead of going for his hole, Jad pulls his balls through his crotch and grabs a strangely curved piece of wood. It’s actually two pieces of wood screwed together. He spreads them apart, wedges Doggy’s balls between them, and screws them back together. Ouch! That must hurt. But Doggy is still pretty calm. Apparently, his balls aren’t being clamped, just his sack. His balls are hanging out the back. But they’re under some tension now, because the wooden bar is hanging behind his thighs. If he were to stretch out his legs now, it would certainly be very painful!
Bob is already busy with his feet; he’s got ankle cuffs and knee pads on. Now they pull his feet towards the bar and attach them to the eyelets. Doggy can’t stretch out his legs at all now, he’s forced onto all fours again – only different than in the suit. He’s not laughing anymore! And Jad and Bob aren’t finished yet. Next, they unzip his crotch and pull out the fat plug. Doggy moans loudly, but starts whining even more when he sees the anal hook again, which is immediately inserted into his hole and attached to the muzzle with a chain. He can’t lower his head anymore.
Jad is already working on his arms. He’s removed the rope around his wrists, but doesn’t give Doggy time to stretch properly. Instead, he sits on Doggy’s back and takes his right arm, pressing his forearm against his upper arm. Bob arrives with a complex bundle of leather straps and wraps it around Doggy’s arm. It surrounds the elbow for about ten centimeters, forming a completely enclosed sheath, apparently with a pad. The rest is a network of straps that press the upper and forearms tightly together. At the shoulder is a small bag into which the fist is enclosed. The whole thing is then connected to the collar of the muzzle. The left arm is wrapped in the same way. Doggy is now just as helpless as I am. I stifle a laugh, but I admit I enjoy his desperate look a little. Finally, Jad fastens a strap around Jad’s balls, to which a small box is attached — electrical, I suspect.
Jad takes him on a leash, and we’re both led out of the cell and toward the stairs. Doggy is in front of me, and I see him trying to walk carefully so as not to pull on his balls. It’s already difficult in the hallway; on the stairs, it becomes almost impossible. Halfway up the stairs, Doggy is a bit slow; he probably needs a quick breather. Suddenly, a scream is muffled by the gag. He stumbles, loses his balance, falls on me, and pulls me with him. Luckily, Bob is behind us and catches us. He calls Jad to be a bit more careful with the shock collar. He sounds a bit annoyed. Finally, at the top, we’re led into the garden. Bob and Jad lie down on the large blanket, and we’re allowed to join them. Both are wearing yesterday’s clothes: Bob in shorts and a T-shirt made of heavy, slightly shiny, perforated nylon; Jad in the harness and leather shorts. Both sexy, each in his own way.
I collapse into Bob’s lap, a little exhausted from the movement on my knees and elbows. He strokes me. Tells me how good I’m being. Jad also strokes his doggy. Suddenly, Bob jumps up and comes back with a tray. On it, some food and two bowls. They remove our gags. They let us eat from the bowls — bread soaked in milk — and eat something themselves. Every now and then, Bob gives me some of his food, feeding me directly into my mouth, a bit of bread with ham and sausage.
Bob and Jad chat. Bob talks about the contact lenses, Jad about the treadmill and the night in the cell. It’s nothing new to me; instead, I enjoy being close to Bob, burying myself in his crotch. They strap our gags back on right after dinner. We’re sitting in the shade, but I can still feel the sun brightly on the black rubber. I can only hear Jad and Bob’s voices in the background through the masks; when Bob strokes my head, I don’t hear them at all.
Competition
I must have dozed off, because suddenly Bob shakes me. I hadn’t noticed something. There’s an electric shock, and I wake up immediately, looking around in surprise. I just see Jad throw something and his doggy run after it. When he gets there, he tucks it under his chin, comes back, and drops it in front of us. It’s a bundle of rope or rags, tied together somehow into a ball. A dog toy. “Now you!” Bob throws the ball into the garden. I look at him, rather confused. “Yes, you! Go and get it!” Is he serious? I find it ridiculous; I just look at Bob without moving. Another electric shock, this time a bit more painful. Really? I’m still a bit stunned and don’t quite understand what this is all about. This must have been another one of Jad’s stupid ideas! Uuuuhhh!!! The electric shock is powerful. Right in the balls! I scream into the gag, tensing myself up. “Come on, don’t be so stubborn! I can make it really painful!”
Reluctantly, I stand up on my four stumps and move towards the ball. “Faster!” accompanied by another electric shock. I hobble faster in that direction. Another electric shock. Another very painful one. I go faster now, as fast as I can, and reach the ball. Gagged as I am, I can’t grab it with my mouth, and my hands are useless. I try to wedge it somewhere, but it always slips off. More not-so-strong but annoying electric shocks. I feel the impatience, but that’s no help! With every shock, I drop the ball again. Jad and Bob laugh. This annoys me even more. I grunt into the gag. It should say “Shut up” — maybe it’s a good thing I’m gagged.
At some point, I manage to tuck the ball under my chin and bring it back. “Now let’s see who’s faster!” Jad says. He throws the ball, and his doggy immediately runs off. I’m still annoyed; it takes a few electric shocks before I move in that direction. Of course, Doggy is already there, coming toward me with the ball. I immediately turn around. What’s the point?
Bob and Jad aren’t happy. They’re whispering to each other. Jad calls his doggy, Bob calls me over and speaks softly in my ear. “You’re unmotivated. I can’t let this go on. So we’re planning a little competition. Three games. Whoever loses at least two will be punished. If you lose, Jad will get something he’s been wanting for a long time.” Now I’m scared, I have to swallow. Damn, my lack of enthusiasm just now upset Bob. He didn’t want to present me like this to Jad. He’s disappointed, and now I’m feeling the consequences. “Yeah, you don’t like it, I know that. It’ll be a lesson for you. Jad is very talented with electrostimulation. He really has a knack for it. If you lose, he can treat and torture you with electrostim to his heart’s content.”
Is he serious?? Fuck! I don’t want Jad to torture me! I whimper into the gag, looking pleadingly at Bob, deep into his eyes. I try to squeeze out a tear, but it doesn’t seem genuine – I’m still too in the mood to be annoyed by this whole stupid game. But the stakes seem too high! Jad? Is he allowed to torture me? I somehow can’t take it entirely seriously yet. It’s too fake, too absurd. Bob doesn’t really go along with this kind of thing. Bob looks at me seriously. “There are certain rules when Jad has you. I’ll be there. But I can only stop it at a very high price. And you’ll really suffer before then, I can promise you that. So make an effort. Please take this seriously!”
Hmm, I’m not quite sure how to classify this. The whole thing is too absurd for me to take it seriously. On the other hand, it seems to mean something to Bob. But above all: I really don’t want to lose to Doggy! Meanwhile, I see Jad talking to his Doggy. He seems considerably more intimidated than I am. Downright scared. Now Jad nods to Bob. Looks like the competition is about to start. I’m still a bit suspicious of the whole thing. I’d rather be alone with Bob right now. But it’s no use. I can hear Jad.
“So, you see the tree back there in the garden. When I say ‘Go’ you run around the tree and back to us. The first one back wins the first of the three competitions. Three, two, one, GO!”
How? What? Before I can really understand, Doggy has already started running. I can see him pulling at his balls with every step. It must hurt like hell. I don’t know what Jad threatened him with, but it must be giving him plenty of motivation! I turn to Bob, who is looking at me in disbelief and gesturing for me to start running. Doggy is already several meters ahead of me. I do my best and pedal ahead. It’s really not easy running on my elbows.
Doggy has a bit more practice. But I manage to catch up a bit. I almost catch up with him at the tree. But then I slip in my stupid suit. Somehow sweat got between the two layers of rubber and now everything is so slippery. My elbows keep slipping outwards. I have to slow down again or I’ll fall. When I finally get around the tree, Doggy is already almost halfway back. I have no chance, but I try anyway. Doggy is already with Jad, who is lovingly cuddling him. I crawl back to Bob, defeated. “Don’t worry, you’ll win the next competition! I noticed how strong you are during the fisting!”
What does he mean by that? I’m still not comfortable with this whole competition. Bob goes into the house for a moment and comes back a few minutes later with a rope and a box full of plugs. “The second competition is tug-of-war. But a little different. We’ll choose a plug for each of you to which we’ll attach the rope. Then you’ll pull. The one who pulls the other’s plug out wins.”
No sooner said than done, Bob and Jad start pulling the plug out of the hole for me and the hook out of the hole for Doggy, and instead they push other plugs into the hole for us both to test out. Luckily, Bob knows me well enough and finds what he thinks is the right plug on the second try, one that is almost a bit too small, I think. I hope it doesn’t slip out too easily. Jad tries out more, Doggy doesn’t seem to be as experienced with it. He whines a lot; it hurts him. I feel a bit sorry for him when I hear him whimpering. After much back and forth, Jad finally makes up his mind. He chooses a pretty thick plug, probably with the idea that it won’t come out so easily.
Now the rope is attached to both plugs, and they are stuffed back into our holes. Doggy moans loudly into the gag as Jad pushes the plug in. I can see Doggy struggling with the much too large piece in his hole. Jad guides us into the starting position until the rope is taut between us. We stand with our butts facing each other, about a meter apart, and at Jad’s command, we pull on the rope. We’re both a little hesitant, because we both realize the danger of losing the plug if we pull too hard. Bob and Jad see this and are obviously dissatisfied. “If there’s no winner in five minutes, you both lose and you’ll both get your punishment!”
The announcement seems to motivate Doggy in particular, so he suddenly pulls very hard. But my ambition has also been aroused. And of course, I don’t want Jad to get his hands on me. I clamp my sphincter tightly, but have to concentrate very hard on keeping the plug in. Doggy pulls more and more desperately, to no avail. But he seems genuinely scared. I stay completely calm and concentrate on my sphincter. It’s an unusual feeling, pulling the plug into my hole as hard as possible while something is pulling on it from the outside. It reminds me of a moment when Bob had his fist inside me and I involuntarily tensed my sphincter in response, pulling Bob’s fist even deeper inside me. Bob liked it; he started playing with it, encouraging me to maintain tension while he pulled on it and then twisted his fist. It was a pretty hot moment. The memory is helping me a lot now. And I’m grateful for Bob’s choice of plug; it’s just the right size so I don’t have the urge to push it out.
Then I get an idea. Doggy is still pulling on the plug with all his might. Instead of pulling against it, I move a few centimeters towards him. This briefly eases the tension in the rope and my sphincter pulls the plug all the way inside me with a jerk. The same thing must be happening to Doggy right now. If I’m guessing correctly, he will be much more uncomfortable with the larger plug and right now his intestines should be wanting to push the intruder out as a reflex. I seize the moment and pull with all my might. And sure enough, without much effort the plug slides out of Doggy’s hole with a loud “plop”. He is completely surprised, as is Jad. Only Bob grins at me confidently – he understood exactly what I was doing.
I run back to Bob, and he strokes me. Meanwhile, Jad gives his doggy a few slaps on his trapped balls.
One on one. Like in every bad movie, it all comes down to the decisive final contest. They place us side by side in front of the blanket, both on our knees and elbows. “Now it’s all about staying still. Whoever drops the glass of water first loses.” With that, they place a glass filled with water on each of our backs and lie back down comfortably on the blanket.
I’m afraid this is going to be a long race. It’s just about staying still. But it quickly becomes clear that it’s not that easy. The position is very uncomfortable. Walking was uncomfortable too, but at least then I could move my arms and legs. Now they’re quickly starting to cramp, but I don’t dare even move. I stand there petrified. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Doggy in the same situation. We both hang our heads, look at the ground, and don’t even dare to move our heads.
“Oh, we forgot one thing!” They take the glasses down again. I quickly move my stumps, looking for a more comfortable position. They come back with the anal hook, stick it back in Doggy’s hole and attach the head harness to it so that he now has to arch his back and look straight ahead. I’m just about to think that this is a bit unfair when they come at me with a similar hook. FUCK! It’s immediately in my hole and the gag’s harness is similarly tied. I also arch my back now, have to keep my head up and look straight ahead. As soon as I lower my head a little, I feel an unpleasant pull on my hole.
Now they place the glasses on our backs again — they just fit under the chain that now stretches from our bottoms to our raised heads — and sit down on the blanket again. I don’t know if that was the main purpose, but because of the new restraints, we no longer look at the floor, but stare straight ahead, where Bob and Jad are sitting in front of us, about two or three meters away. They have laid down on the blanket, almost symmetrically. Both are lying on their sides, one leg casually stretched out, the other propped up. They have their heads resting on one arm, and with the other hand they are both stroking their shorts with the fat bulges, which they openly present to us in this position. They seem to like the sight; you can see something developing in their pants. Their heads are close together, they whisper to each other, laughing now and then.
I’m definitely glad that I was able to position myself a little differently during the short break — it’s much more comfortable. But it’s still hard after a short while. My elbows, in particular, are already hurting. I look at Bob as he lies there. His fleshy, muscular thighs never cease to fascinate me; they’re so broad, so thick. I’d love to be there right now, lay my head on them, rest, looking at his fat bulge, where his stiff cock is already clearly visible. His hand glides over the smooth material of his shorts, especially around the head of his penis. I can see his lascivious gaze.
As they talk, they look over at me more and more often, and Bob’s gaze becomes more and more greedy. From the snatches of words I overhear, from Jad’s looks and gestures, I get the uneasy feeling that Jad is telling Bob what he plans to do with me if I lose. And from Bob’s expression, I can see that this is really turning him on. Bob wants to see that, I’m afraid. That scares me a little again — I can’t lose!
The sun has now moved, and we’re now standing in the blazing afternoon sun. Sweat is running down my elbows and knees. Everything is slippery and uncomfortable. My head has become heavy; I’m pulling harder and harder on the hook, feeling it unpleasantly in the hole. Bob slides a little closer now, quite close, not even a meter away. It’s the same pose, but now so close that I can’t see Bob all the way. The masks restrict my field of vision so much that all I can see now is Bob’s fat bulge, his thighs, and his torso up to just the base of his pectorals. And his arm, playing with his cock in his shorts, but only just up to the base of his biceps. If I wanted to see more, I’d have to turn my head, but I don’t dare.
FUCK! I think Bob wants me to lose, he wants to watch me suffer at Jad’s hands. And he knows my weaknesses. I’m forced to stare directly at his bulge, his cock. Bob continues to rub his cockhead with pleasure through the smooth fabric. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his biceps tense, but I control myself and don’t turn my head. Now he’s tensing his thigh muscles, then relaxing them again. He’s putting on a little show for me, trying to distract me. Now he’s pulling his shorts higher up his thigh with his hand, rubbing his cockhead again. His shorts are now stretched tightly over his shorts.
The heavy, slightly shiny fabric with the perforation, the head of his cock clearly visible underneath. His hand slides between his thighs, he strokes himself between his legs, leaning forward slightly. Now his pectoral muscles come into view; they, too, are clearly visible under the heavy fabric of his T-shirt. His nipples stand out beneath as small peaks. In the background, I hear Jad laughing. He sees exactly what Bob is doing and is already filled with anticipation. Jad calls from behind, “Remember the urethral probe!” A small wet spot forms on the tip of Bob’s shorts. I stare stubbornly ahead, but I can feel my own cock in its cage.
Bob grabs his cock behind his balls with his large, strong hand, forcing his bulging genitals out through his shorts. His hand slides back to his thighs, massages them a bit, slides over his shorts and up his T-shirt, and kneads his bulging pectorals. Of all things, I can only see that out of the corner of my eye; the eye opening in the outer mask is too far forward. I can only see parts of his fleshy chest being kneaded under the shiny fabric. He grabs his nipple and moans briefly.
A moment later, the glass is on the floor. I hear Jad laughing happily. FUCK! I think it was the short groan I wasn’t used to from Bob. Of course, I was distracted; I’d lost my concentration. The short groan made me turn my head briefly. And immediately, my fragile balance was shattered. I look at the glass in shock. Then at Doggy. His glass is still on his back. FUCK! Jad is still laughing. Bob pulls me towards him, presses me to his chest, and laughs. “You have to take it in stride. And if it makes you feel better: You’ve spared Doggy a really bad night. Sure, things are going to be a little rough for you now. Maybe even very rough. But don’t worry, I’m always with you! I’ll look after you. You make me so happy!”
To be continued…
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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.
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