By rts
(the next day)
I awoke before him, my body heated by his rubber clad form pressed against me. I was covered in sweat, my balls and cock hurt and itched maddenly in their steel containment, my bung hole sore from the butt fucking, the confinement of the tight heavy rubber straight jacket and posture collar driving me crazy, the waist belt holding my torso firmly tightening its hold each time I took a breath. I was hot, miserably unconfortable in that hot rubber suit, thirsty and had to take a piss. I started to struggle around manageing to finally wake him. He pressed his hooded head to mine and kissed me sucking the breath out of me. He got out of the bad and I asked him for some water.
He told me we would have to go out and get some up at the spring. I told him of my need to piss, he got me up, led me outside and unzipped my crotch, the weight of the steel chastity container hanging heavily on my balls once the zipper was opened, the posture collar and bulky straight jacket prevented me from seeing what it looked like. I spread my legs and just let go the urine and heard it splashing on the ground. He zipped me closed and began to unstrap the straight jacket, it was a relief to be free of its restriction, my arms felt stiff and cramped from the hours spent in it and I could feel a slight coolness now that it was off. He told me to grab the two buckets hanging by the cabin’s door and following him he led me up a trail to the spring a few hundred yards away.
The light comes on, the cell door swings open, another day of hell begins after another miserable night in sweaty leathers with butt plug torment. A single skinhead steps in and says, “Fag prisoner #5, get your butt over the squat toilet and present your ass.” Jake crawls on hands and knees, chains rattling, over the dirt floor and waits by the pit. The skinhead unlocks and removes jakes’s muzzle and the crotch strap from the harness, unzips his butt access and proceeds with the enema.
My harness is restrictive, stiff and heavy. The tight crotch cradles my butt and affects my walking. The other prisoners all have shaved heads and look to be around my age and physical build. There are three skinheads walking with us, and each has one of those control-box shockers that seems to control two prisoners. A fourth skin (the one from the gas station) is definitely in charge of the others. All four of them are booted in 20-hole Rangers, dirty Levi’s bleaches held up and pulled tight on their butts by braces and showing significant bulges, mostly stained with piss.