By Max Cita
Life’s not always a barrel of fun!
1993, late Fall in a small country place in Northern Ontario, Max (had not yet attained the Title Dr. Mad Max) had decided to take in a weekend bondage event where there was lots of mud to play in. The other guys who might attend as well, were into ‘who-knows-what’ but it was a little bondage, rubber, leather and a lot of drinking. In retrospect it was a perfect weekend and the pleasures had not been revisited since.
Dr. Mad Max sat at the lunch table and dreamed on about his amazing experience: Max knew a little of the hosts. They had written many times. Bragging as he did in his letters, Max stated to the potential organizers and hosts that he really could get into a piss scene. He stated he could handle the intake of any amount, and being pissed on was just as rewarding. In later writing he also told the hosts about how bondage and rubber were his ultimate pleasures and amazing sexual turn-on. In his last reply to appeal to the hosts to invite him to the weekend event he enriched his persistent confirmation of his abilities in intense experiences to the extreme. The much younger Dr. Mad Max insisted he wanted to leave it to the weekend hosts to treat him as a real bondage prisoner for the entire weekend.
In reply the hosts sent him a peculiar form asking him to complete and sign his willingness to be a bondage pig slave, and that within the limits of the reply, the hosts would do what ever they chose to Max. Given this encouragement and certain invitation, Max was eager enough and wanted to impress so he penned his abilities as expert and experienced in most categories on the profile form of kinky pleasure and dislikes. He also wrote he wanted to give absolute control to his hosts for the duration from the moment he arrived. So not caring or sure what that meant, Max sent off the final confirmation letter, payment and waited for the long trip for a great weekend with the boys….
A month later, the day arrived and finally Max was on his way through the beautiful remote Upper Ottawa Valley. It was a four hour trip He was greeted warmly on his arrival, by one of the hosts. Immediately he showed how he drove in his latex cat suit and rubber boots and gloves. Stopping for gas at the rural towns and showing off his head to toes rubber shocked the onlookers.
The host showed Max where to put the car. Max was told to leave his gear in the car until after the others had arrived. Max took in the quick tour and asked when the others would start to play. The polite host noted that Max was the first to arrive and that others would come much later. The host stated that Max had agreed to be a bondage slave for the weekend and did that idea still remain a certainty? Yes, it had he replied, “I am ready to go any time.”. He was extremely horny.
The host thought that was great. “While we wait for the others you might as well try a little bondage if you like?” the host commanded rather than stated. Max eager to get going, thought this was great and asked if he could get a latex hood and his new gas mask and some stuff. Back in a minute Max was lead by the host into the back yard of the cabin. Max put on his latex hood which had eyes nose and mouth holes, and then really thick electricians rubber gloves. He already had his light weight rubber boots on. The host sat Max on the ground in the back yard and asked him to put his hands behind his knees. There the wrists were cuffed together with a pair of hinged handcuffs. He sat crouched over in the fetal position – sort-of. The host asked Max if he wanted to try and escape, but Max said no that he was really wanting to be locked up the entire time so he pleaded to not be allowed to escape the whole time.
Max was left sitting there for 15 minutes. He listened to the early evening birds chirping away and new sounds coming from the adjacent bush and swamp. He could hear the host return. All was very quiet and peaceful. The sun was low in the sky, this far North, just after 1500h the days were ending early already. There were many trees turning colour.
The host patted Max on the shoulder from behind. Actually it felt like two bear paws slamming him into the ground. The sudden compression on his shoulders Max exhaled deeply. As he gasped in some air and was trying to say “What the f…”, not his new gas mask, but another one was rammed onto his head. It seemed to be loose but not for long. Each strap on the mask was pulled tight.
“Ahh this is an Israeli gas mask, same one I brought” he mumbled, and could easily see out the clear lenses. But the hands still held him down. Next he heard a tearing noise. Duct tape? Someone was covering the lenses of the gas mask. But it continued. Duct tape was wrapped around the lenses. Wrapped around the whole head too. It took 5 minutes to mummify the gas masked head. Dr. Mad Max realized that the bottom of the gas mask at the chin seemed to be loose. No duct tape there. ” He wondered if this was sloppy work or they just didn’t care that the gas mask could leak through the bottom.
Not able to see, Dr. Mad Max guessed that the gas mask had a hose attached to it by the feel of the hose on his knees. In fact there were two hoses each about 2 feet long and a little more than an inch in diameter, same ones used in Russian gas masks having waist mounted filters. Given a minute to adjust his breathing to the gas mask tubing, he was asked if he could breath okay. A nod of the head and stating; “This is great.” The horny Max was happy.
Without warning he was slid a few feet along the ground and tipped onto his back. Someone lifted him at the shoulders at which point he could feel his feet on a metal edge. Now realizing two people were moving him he was lifted and slid into what he figured as a metal round garbage container. It was not.
Dr. Mad Max was put in a metal 45 gallon drum, very cramped space, because his feet and back were firmly wedged into the bottom of the drum. He could neither move sideways or up and down with the handcuffed arms now wedged under the bent-up body. ” Wow, this is getting better all the time.” Max was delighted. He tried to stroke from behind. Oops, the dick was firmly wedged in front. Not being able to reach it, was a bitch. The latex cat suit was sweaty and what little movement he could perform was not enough to stroke his dick against the rubber. It seemed like 10 minutes, or so, went by. Max found the very restrictive position comfy but he couldn’t get at his hard dick. He wanted to cum right then. Voices from above were heard but not understood. The latex hood, gas mask and duct tape made hearing limited and certainly nothing less than a scream could be heard from inside the taped head. Max felt the hose of the gas mask being pulled. He immediately thought of breath control scenes. “Man, this is going to be real fun now!” The air was free flowing but a lot of noise and what seemed like tools screwing something in place he guessed.
(It was only long after would Max find out what they were doing. In fact, it wasn’t that weekend but a month later when he revisited, that he found out all the things that were used for his incarceration and punishments.) One air hose, the inhalation tube, had a coupling that screw mounted into the bung hole on the lid of the 45 gallon drum. Dr. Mad Max knew nothing of this at the time, he still thought he was sitting in a garbage can. He felt the breathing blocked and sucked hard. It was released. He could still easily breath again. A tap on his shoulder and from above a distant voice asked if everything was okay? Dr., Mad Max nodded and tried to show he liked it by wiggling up and down. His captors did not understand his motion but assumed all was well.
Dr. Mad Max realized there was a second hose as someone was pulling on another. When he went to exhale it was blocked and the air pressure inside the hood seemed to increase and then lessen. Once again more metallic noise. The second hose was being screwed into the second but larger bung hole on the drum lid. Everything seemed fine. Dr. Mad Max could feel hands moving the hoses in front of his face and then the sound of more duct tape. Something like stiff plastic was slid done between Max’s back and head, and the steel drum wall. He could feel his head once again being wrapped in even more duct tape but this time his head was being held in a fixed position. He could not move it at all. It had been duct taped to the plastic board rendering his head and the board immovable. The hoses, he guessed, were also being taped somehow to stay in place so that there were no sags or kinks in either hose. He felt something like a plastic bag attached to his head somehow. Not over it but just onto the side of the head.
The lid was slid over the opening of the drum. Bang! then several more hammering and thumping sounds that were deafening inside the drum. It made his ears pop and he could feel air being compressed and leak into his catsuit. The lid was the type that when fitted in place – was water and air tight. The drum had been a discarded printer’s ink container. The liquid ink was poured into a plastic liner that was made to fit the drum. The liner limited leaks and allowed for the re-use of the container without cleaning it. The metal lid sealed into the lip of the steel drum. It would take hammer and screw driver to pry it off. But still, the lid was also fitted with a metal clamp that fits over the lid and container edges. That metal clamp is tightened with a bolt to hold it firmly as a strong reinforcing. Should the tank be dropped the lid could not pop off.
Dr. Mad Max was a little anxious now. It seemed okay on one hand, he was really horny; on the other, thoughts of asphyxia flashed before him. He wondered if this was really the Mafia who would bury the can and him in the swamp? What happened if this were true.
In fact the upright drum had been partly buried in the ground. Only 15 inches of the drum was exposed above ground, the rest had been placed in a hole and then the dirt filled in around it. Dr. Mad Max had no idea at that point what he was in for and felt a little more panicky. What happened if? Well his big mouth had put him into something he never expected and way beyond his capacity to figure out if this was where he would spend the weekend or meet his end.
More noise from above, something was being put on the drum. Then silence. Nothing could be heard. What seemed like a long time to Max there was a thump on the drum. Ahh, they have come to check on me he thought and got horny again. He couldn’t breath in. “What?” his reaction was to panic. He tried a second breath nothing. He felt really wet and felt his warm sweat inside his hood moving with his concerted effort to move his head and attempt to breath. Third breath there was a bit of air and he relaxed. He was sensing his face was getting wetter, in fact there was an inch of sweat in the gas mask and rising. The liquid covered his mouth, he instinctively tried to tilt his head back but couldn’t move. He opened his mouth only to discover the liquid was Piss! And it was coming in fast.
At first he didn’t try to drink it. He was in shock, what were they doing? The piss covered one nostril then another. “Out of air”. He wrenched around to try and get out of the liquid which by now was getting into his eyes and burning. Not much else to do he started to gulp down the piss. Four gulps and he could breath, not easily but he could breath. The force of the inhalation through his nostrils sucked piss into his sinus and he started to sneeze. When he exhaled it was so forceful the piss was splashing around the tiny air space inside the gas mask burning his eyes again. He drank some more and started to calm himself. This was scary, in fact he was really scarred. So much piss to drink just to breath. What had he got himself into. Did he really say he liked piss on his questionnaire? He wanted out but knew there was no way he could be heard. He calmed himself down but not before really hyperventilating to the point he almost fainted.
He got his breath back. It was quiet. The same thoughts returned – about what had just happened. He began to understand that he had bragged way too much. What could he do now? He couldn’t be heard. He figured he was there for the weekend. He had to breath slowly, the urge to panic was there, just ready to overcome his ability to control himself. Would he die without ever cuming again?
A few minute later, more thumping above. Ahh, they are going to let me out, Dr. Mad Max hoped. No! A repeat performance, more piss. This time he got caught short of breath. The mask filled quickly with piss. He started to drink but this time the level of piss in the gas mask was completely full. He gulped in as much as he could. No air yet. Being bent over made the stomach very small, it was filling up and swallowing more piss was getting hard to do. Finally the level of piss was dropping. He figured it was a full minute without a breath. There was piss still dribbling into the mask but he could breath. The remaining piss partly blocked the exhaust hose. He had to really heave his chest to expel the liquid and open the exhalation airway.
Safe again. At his point he relaxed and for the first time realized the wonderful strong piss odours. The inside of the latex hood was still warm and a bit sticky. As he relaxed the sensations were making him really horny again: the great smells, the amazing taste, and the prickly sticky feeling he was getting on the inside of his cat suit. He was getting to like this….
Dr. Mad Max wondered about getting out of his predicament. He had a full stomach that felt like it had cramps. Not long after that feeling started up, he also needed to piss, but couldn’t. His dick was caught between his chest and legs and seemed kinked. He tried again. He could not pee.
A third session of piss filled the gas mask, then shortly after, several others. He tried to count, but lost track after 12. His back was aching and his shoulders were sore. He thought that the latex feet and legs of the catsuit must be bulging out , filled with piss that leaked between the gas mask and suit. Now he realized why they left an open space under his chin of the gas mask. It was just enough to let the excess piss drain out, but it would take at least 30 seconds to do it provided he also gulp down what he could.
More time elapsed, hours it seemed. Still no sign of being let out. The liquid drinks were more intermittent, several all at once, then just one or two with longer intervals in between. He was really finding his bladder hurting. He was horny too. and tried to concentrate to relax and pee. Instead he got a rock hard, hard-on. He tried to squirm around moving his knees a little. Finally his hard dick slipped out of its captivity between piss wet legs and stomach. It straightened out. A rush of uncontrolled piss flowed out of his bladder. Finally, Max was able to get the pain in has bladder to subside. Every few minutes, he was pissing. More fluid started to come into the mask, this fluid was tasting more like beer than piss but still sticky and warm. There must be a lot of beer going down now. He was fearful that maybe they would get drunk and he would not be looked after or worse forgotten.
Time could not be determined by Max, he was very sore and aching all over. He was feeling a bit cold. The piss next to his skin felt cool. His butt and feet were numb. Gas was developing in his stomach and the urge to fart was overwhelming but in the cramped position made that impossible.
He started to day dream and time floated by forgetting the soreness and cold. He didn’t remember at all, any noise or sounds, until he heard the hammers banging at the lid. The rush of cold air told him the lid was off. The lid slid off easily, once the air hoses were removed. Many different voices from above could be faintly heard by Max.
To the beer drinking visitors’ great astonishment, they saw for the first what they had been really pissing into and on. Max sensed a lot of hands fumbling to remove the tape from around his gas mask, then hands around and under his knees. A wide strap was threaded under him. He could hear only a few bits of conversation: ” leave him there… Piss on him some more….,”
He was shivering. He could feel the unsuccessful attempts to lift or pull him out of the drum. He was wedged in solidly. The extra weight of piss in the cat suit was making it harder to lift him. A minute or two past, then a sudden yell of “Heave-ho” and he was yanked out of the drum in one swift motion. Plunked on the ground, Max had pain everywhere. The remainder of the duct tap was pulled off and the gas mask removed. The crowd was shouting at the stinking pig. He really did smell awful, but the visitors seemed to actually like it. They stood around chatting but let him lie still. They could see the piss leaking out of Max’s cat suit. It was very dark. Only the light of an open pit fire several yards away, lit up the wet cold Max. It was midnight. A voice asked the others who would like to be the first to have a blow job by the wet latex clad pig. Loud discussion of yes and no is all Max could distinguish. His ears were piss filled, inside the latex hood. At least he could see the shadows, But he said nothing, too cold and exhausted. He screamed as someone grabbed his wrists. It was really sore where the cuffs had dug in. The handcuffs were removed. Someone slowly stretched him out on the ground. He groaned as the stiff legs and arms were moved. In could do nothing but lie there. Someone stood over him and pissed on him. Max didn’t notice the little cheer. After several minutes Max was offered a beer and sipped a little. By now Max had kidneys working full time with a continuous flow dribbling from his dick . The stomach ache was relieved with a loud and continuous release of gas. Another cheer from the crowd. He started to feel better and sat up. Someone asked if he was okay. He said he felt fantastic. He lied. But soon he realized he was safe and sound. It wasn’t so bad. Even the pain was letting go.
One last call for the crowd to get a blow-job from Max, but no one took up the offer. Max could see a bit more, but still the sticky piss burned his eyes. The light of the fire could only give Max a glimpse of the 12 men standing in the rear yard. Max started to stand up and was pushed down by someone. ” Not so fast Piss-Head” someone yelled, So he lay there exhausted. A plastic sheet was brought from somewhere and laid out beside Max. He was told to get on it. He did, and was dragged over the lawn into an area where tarpaulins were hanging to form walls. The tarpaulins seemed to be attached to part of a shed and a tree – a covered tent room. It had a tarpaulin roof too. He was told to lie down. He saw some rope being handed out. His sore wrists and ankles were tied with rope. Now spreadeagle he lay stretched out on the ground in the enclosure. He saw, he thought, four guys come in naked. One had a lawn hose. Turned it on and aimed it at Max. He was being hosed down with freezing cold water, which shortly started to warm up and then became wonderfully hot. His latex cat suit was unzipped and the inside hosed down too. His dick was left hanging out as the suit was zipped up again.
The other guys started to use the hot water as a shower for themselves. The horny group played with each other while standing over Max. The men were exchanging their “fuck I can’t believe he was in there all that time…” one guy stated he had arrived at 1530pm and pissed in the can then.
“So Max must have been in there a very long time.” Another mused.
If they had known beforehand that Max was in the drum, they all said they would not have used it. This was new experience for them too. Max could do nothing more than lie there looking up at hard dripping dicks. One not so slim guy crouched down and stuck his dick in Max’s mouth. And starts pumping. Max started to bite down when the dick hit the back of his throat. Two hands went round his neck and clamped down. He heard loud and clear: “NO!.” He loosened his grip as Max opened wider. Max could not see but felt a mouth go round his dick. He got hard fast, and was pushing his head up into the crotch of the slim guy fucking his face. The cue taken, the slim guy stretched himself out and flattened his crotch fully over Max’s face and kept on pumping.
All the guys in the “shower” had a turn at face fucking him. Max had trouble with the big cocks, but did his best to not bite. That was hard. Still tied spreadeagle Max was getting cold again. The others seemed intent on getting some sleep. The ropes were loosened and he was allowed to stand up. He was shivering. He was asked to hold out his arms. He thought they had brought him some warm clothes. Instead it was a straitjacket and some fleece pants. In captivity again but at least warm he was hauled out of the shower and into a tent about 300 feet in the bush at the back of the cabin. Laid out on an army cot, a heavy tarpaulin was laid over him. He could hear straps and buckles being done up, to the point he could not move at all. Mummified! His latex hood was removed. His head was toweled dry and another hood put on. It was leather, no eyes no mouth. He knew there were nose holes. It was a Fetters heavy duty hood with the straps to tighten the outside. They were cinched tight but without hurting. The sound of five padlocks on the hood’s belts could be heard and then a good night from the captors. It sounded like the host.
“No one will be near you or hear you. You are alone in the middle of the swamp. You are on your own ’til morning. Don’t let the bears get you.” The tent flap was zipped up. Only the hoot owl broke the silence of the night. Then silence.
“Fuck, I want to cum again.” Max didn’t, he fell asleep in just a few minutes.