By bondagegimp

Changes

We lie in bed for a while, tightly embraced. We’re silent. A thousand thoughts should be racing through my head, I should be worried, but I’m simply enjoying the moment. I’m not thinking about yesterday, I’m not thinking about tomorrow. I’m simply here, in Bob’s arms.

Bob’s head is very close to mine. “I don’t know where this journey will take us yet either. But I have a certain idea of the direction we’ll be going. I will take you on this journey, show you the way, and sometimes force you to do things you’ve yet to learn. I will train you and mold you according to my wishes. But I’m only bringing out of you what’s already in your nature, what you forbid yourself from letting out. Perhaps it will even frighten you when you recognize it. We’ll start very carefully. But there will also be hurdles you’ll have to overcome. And we’re starting with that now.”

I can only look at him, my mouth torn open and simultaneously stuffed by the thick ball gag. Bob unchains me from the bed and pulls me behind him along the hallway to the tiled room. The chains, seemed too loose to me before, now I feel their full power again. Just a single additional connection has made the arm cuffs very restrictive! And of course, the gag. And I can see how this fills him with energy. His gait is different, energetic again. I see his broad back, its muscles outlined beneath the thin nylon, and above all his powerful buttocks, over which the thin, shiny material stretches. I can feel Bob’s power over me again.

In the tiled room, he straps me into the rack, completely restrained, just like on the first evening. He has to remove the ball gag to secure my head so that the thick dildo slides into my mouth and I can no longer move my head. In the rack, he can easily rotate me into the position he needs. First, a catheter is pushed into my cock and secured. Then he stretches a kind of combination of cock ring and ball stretcher around my balls and cock, one part also grips my glans and clicks into place directly behind the rim. My hole is rinsed out a few times, and various plugs are tested until he decides on the one that, in his opinion, made me moan the best. Then he feels all over my body where stumps have formed again and carefully shaves those areas, especially my balls and cock. He opens the catheter; a little piss trickles out of me, then he puts a diaper on me, over which he puts the lockable rubber pants. It pushes the plug gently but firmly into me.

I think he’s finished and is about to free me from the rack, but he comes back with the razor – I have a premonition and my breath catches in my throat. He approaches me and ruffles my hair. “I love your blonde curls, but they don’t seem appropriate anymore. It will help you adjust to your new role. And don’t worry, I don’t like bald heads, but I do like very short hair. I think 5mm should be enough!” It’s a shock when he puts the razor to my head and I see the first curls fall to the floor. I had let my hair grow for a year to get this hairstyle; I liked this surfer-boy look. Seeing the floor slowly filling with hair makes me realize for the first time with a shock what I’ve let myself get into. I fight back the tears, but at the same time I feel Bob’s other hand stroking my back. Bob strapped me into the frame, Bob gagged me, Bob caresses me. Yes, I feel Bob exerting his power over me and at the same time, the thought makes my cock swell in the diaper.

Bob unties my head, freeing my mouth from the thick dildo. Then, the head harness is put back on, this time with a different gag – one with a breathing tube. Now Bob slowly releases me from the frame and attaches a chain hanging from above to the head harness. First, he brings a water bottle with a hose attached. He pushes the hose through the breathing tube of the gag and lets the half-liter of water simply flow into me.

He brings a shiny black PVC jumpsuit, puts it on me, and secures it with a small lock. The jumpsuit has booties with slightly thicker soles, but my hands and head are free. He puts leather cuffs on my hands and feet, made of very thick, hard leather, but very thickly padded. They remind me of films set in psychiatric institutions, which always gave me a hard-on… The ankle cuffs are connected to each other with a chain maybe 10 cm long, and the handcuffs are connected to the left and right of the collar of the head harness with a chain each about 30 cm long. Finally, he brings a bundle of leather straps, which he puts around the diaper area: one strap around my hips, one strap from behind through my crotch, which forks out at the lowest point and is led up to the left and right of my genitals. He pulls all the straps tight so that the diaper is held taut and the plug is pushed a little deeper into the hole.

Bob leaves me standing there for a moment and leaves the room. I hear him moving around the house and in the meantime I test my restraints. I can only get my legs apart a little. Walking will become a shuffling motion again. Standing up, my hands can reach just below my belly button. If I can’t bend over—and that’s impossible with the harness secured at the top—I can’t get any lower, can’t to my cock, which is tucked behind the diaper. My cock has gotten hard from the whole situation, but the diaper is pushing it down between my legs. Pee is probably still dripping from the open catheter into the diaper; every now and then I can feel a bit of it. It’s a strange feeling when your bladder just empties into the diaper. Totally different from the day before yesterday in my diaper, when I had to force myself to pee. That was uncomfortable too, but now it feels like a complete loss of control. This also fits well with the feeling of the thick diaper between my legs, which prevents me from bringing my legs together. The width allowed by the chain is also roughly the maximum I can bring my legs together. Combined with the thick plug in my hole, the feeling is very strange: the loss of control, the thick diaper, the feeling of the plugged hole. It’s surprisingly cozy; it forces me to let go and relax in a way I’ve never experienced before.

Next, I feel my head. Feeling that my hair is now just short stubble is another shock! It’s suddenly so real, the manifestation that I’ve basically given Bob carte blanche. My cock doesn’t seem to mind. It’s not like it makes it hard right away, but there’s a kind of pleasant feeling in my lower abdomen.

Then I feel the head harness, from which the chain extends tightly upwards. Several straps go around my head, all pulled tight and secured with a lock. The leather is thick and sturdy; I don’t see any chance of loosening anything. The plate in front of the mouth is removable, but it too is secured with locks. A ring is attached at the front, under the nose. My hands now glide over the PVC suit. It felt strange to be put on. Cold and smooth. It’s warmed up now, which makes it less stubborn and more supple. A little sweat is starting to accumulate, making it stick to my skin. It’s cut quite tightly, which also contributes to this. When I move my legs, I can feel the plastic material on my skin. While it’s more comfortable than the rubber suit, it’s also a bit uncomfortable in its own way and will probably become annoying over time. When I accidentally touch my nipples with my hand, I feel a bit electric. The smooth material makes the touch feel somehow more intense. I play with my fingernail on my nipple and notice how it has a direct effect on my cock, which is unfortunately trapped under the thick diaper.

When Bob returns, he just stands in front of me for a while, watching me run my hands over the PVC. I try to touch him, reaching for him with my arms, but he’s a few centimeters too far away. Finally, he comes to me and lets me run my hands over his body as far as the chains allow. Through the thin nylon, everything feels different, smoother, more supple. I can’t get enough of this feeling, but Bob has a second bottle of water with him, which he pours down my throat. Then he unchains me and pulls me behind him into the hallway. As he walks, he talks to me: “This afternoon we’re going to my friend Tom’s house; it’s his birthday today. Like I said, I want to introduce you to my friends. Until then, I have one more task for you.”

Bake a cake

The view from behind, as Bob pulls me on the leash, is irresistible. His buttocks, in particular, are so vividly outlined under the thin black nylon that I can’t hold myself back. I catch up to him, bend down a little, and grab them. Bob stops, turns around, and grins. “It seems I need to tie you up tighter again; you’re getting cocky! But I need you like this for your task.” He pulls me down the stairs and into the kitchen. Bob has already prepared a few things on the long kitchen counter. A long iron bar runs above the counter, from which a chain hangs down. He now attaches my head harness to this chain, similar to the one in the tiled room upstairs, except this chain is movable along the bar. I can stand comfortably upright, but I can’t bend down. And I can walk from left to right along the kitchen counter, but I can’t move away from it. There are a few ingredients lying on the counter. “It’s Tom’s birthday. I thought you could make a birthday cake for him. I’ve printed out the recipe, and all the ingredients and equipment you need are ready. I still have a bit of work to do, so I’ll pick you up later.” With that, he disappears.

At first I’m a little perplexed, staring after him in disbelief. Luckily I’ve baked a cake before, so it’ll work out. I read the recipe and get started. Every now and then I look curiously into the drawers and notice that there are no knives or other objects lying around that I could use to free myself. It’s a very unusual feeling, not being able to bend down. Again and again I have the urge, and then I’m abruptly held back by the chain. It’s similar with my hands: again and again I want to reach for something, but then I’m stopped by the chain, and in doing so I always yank on my collar, to which the chains are attached. The way I have to walk with my legs spread, with the short chain, means I can’t forget my restraints for a moment. But at the moment it’s not a problem for me; I actually find the situation somewhat exciting. The only thing that’s irritating is that more and more pee is dripping from the catheter, and I’m slowly feeling it in my diaper.

Distracted by my restraints, I have a minor mishap: an egg falls to the floor. I’d wipe it away, but I can’t bend down and I don’t have a rag within reach. This complicates the whole process a bit, as I try not to step in it, so I have to keep making a small detour, which isn’t easy with the chained head harness. Eventually, I do step in it, and it makes a huge mess. Finally, the cake is ready and can go into the oven, which is on the side of the cupboard at chest height and is just within reach. After I’ve dutifully washed everything, I have to wait and pass the time stroking my suit.

Shortly after I take the cake out of the oven, Bob arrives. The cake smells and looks good. Bob pats me on the head. Then he sees the mess on the kitchen floor. Wordlessly, he gets cleaning supplies, unties my head harness from the pole, and lets me clean up the mess. Then he ties my hands behind my back with another short chain, leaving me pretty helpless again. He holds me very tightly by my leash, his head very close to mine, but this time with a serious look. “I already noticed in the hallway that you were getting a bit cocky. You were probably a bit unfocused here too. I’ve already said that I’m not a fan of punishments, at least not senseless punishments. But I want to help my slave make fewer mistakes with appropriate measures. And I think you need some time to calm down and concentrate again!”

Training in the basement

When I notice Bob pulling me by the collar towards the cellar door, I start begging and struggling into the gag. Bob feels the resistance on the leash and turns briefly to me. One look is enough and I trot obediently behind him, resigned to my fate. The cellar stairs are a challenge with the short restraints; I can only take one step at a time, then the next. Bob isn’t carrying me this time. He stands beneath me and watches me struggle down. The view into the cellar frightens me. I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t associate it with good memories. Will Bob lock me in the padded cell again? What else is he planning?

Once downstairs, I see the door to the padded cell I was in in the hallway. I see it for the first time; it’s lined with black rubber – I shudder a little at the sight. But I can only glimpse it briefly out of the corner of my eye because Bob pulls me further towards another door, behind which another hallway opens. He opens a door, and behind it is another cell. It too is lined with rubber, but not padded. In the middle of the room is a kind of built-in bed, freestanding all around, padded and covered in rubber. On it you can see some white straps. The ceiling is mirrored. I’m not comfortable thinking about what is inevitably about to happen.

Bob sits me on the bed, removes my ankle cuffs, and ties my feet to the cuffs on the bed. He fiddles with the zipper behind my back a bit, then loosens my wrist cuffs and pushes me down, first fastening a strap over the collar of the head harness so I can’t stand up, then cuffs around my upper arms. To my surprise, he leaves my hands free for now. Next follows a complex web of belts and straps around my torso, over my shoulders, and through my crotch, with Bob pulling the crotch strap particularly tight so that it presses itself deep into the diaper. Finally, Bob pushes my thighs apart so that they are fixed slightly further outwards than my feet, which causes the inner thighs to point upwards, giving me an even greater feeling of vulnerability and exposure. Bob takes the opportunity to extensively caress and fondle my inner thighs, which feels somehow different through the PVC, but somehow very hot.

Next, Bob works on my hands. He first adjusts a few straps and then secures my forearms so that my hands extend over the bed on the left and right sides. At first, this doesn’t make sense to me.

After a few slaps on my diaper, he reaches under me and pulls something out—it’s cables. I’m getting very nervous. As he connects the cables to a black box, I start to struggle against my restraints—I’m afraid he wants to torture me with electricity as punishment! As punishment for dropping an egg??? Were the cock ring and the other parts he had attached electrodes for electric torture? I imagine the pain would be excruciating, after everything I’ve already experienced with the shock collar.

My fidgeting, of course, achieves nothing, except that Bob stands behind my head, grabs my head harness, and fastens it to the bed with a short chain. This small detail makes the already fairly immobile but bearable restraints far more restrictive – not being able to move my head makes me feel completely helpless. Fortunately, Bob’s next move distracts me, because he now stands next to me so that my right hand is between his thighs. Somewhat intimidated, I don’t dare do anything, but Bob tells me to go ahead and grab hold of it – I couldn’t have held back in the hallway this morning either.

I immediately start kneading and fondling his muscular ass cheek through the thin nylon fabric, while Bob is doing something on his smartphone. Suddenly, I feel a tingling sensation in my crotch—in my hole, on my balls, on my shaft, and on the glans. It’s not unpleasant; on the contrary, it gets really horny as the intensity increases, although it’s always accompanied by a certain amount of pain. At some point, it’s so intense and horny that it becomes unbearable. I cling to Bob’s ass cheek. Then, suddenly, there are a few hard shocks, so that I abruptly let go of Bob’s ass cheek in shock. Now the horny tingling sensation starts again, building slowly, moving in waves, up and down, becoming more intense. As the intensity increases, I cling to Bob more tightly, then more unpleasant shocks, and I let go again. During one of the harder shocks, my bladder seems to suddenly contract, because suddenly it pushes a large gush of piss into the diaper.

Bob lets the program run for a while, leaning over me, resting his heavy upper body on top of me, facing away from me, and playing a little with the diaper and stroking my thighs, occasionally adjusting the intensity and frequency. My grip on his buttocks apparently helps him gauge my reactions. Through the mirror on the ceiling, I can observe Bob well and, above all, admire his upper body lying on top of me.

At some point, he seems satisfied, turns off the device, and leaves the room. The feeling of being down here alone, strapped to a bed in a cell in the basement, immediately makes me uneasy. I see myself in the mirror now, in the black PVC jumpsuit, the crotch properly padded by the thick diaper, strapped in with the white straps, my hands hanging over on the left and right. My head is in the black head harness, and underneath, I can see my new haircut for the first time. I look so helpless and vulnerable that I feel sorry for myself.

Before the bad feelings can take over, Bob is back with a roll of tape, two bottles of water, and two eggs. He starts by tackling my hands: he wraps each hand into a fist with tape, but leaves my thumb and little finger free. I look at him, irritated. Next, he unties my head harness, lifts my head slightly, and gives me two more bottles of water, only to then refasten the harness. He’s standing behind me now, at the head of the bed, bent over me, looking at me intensely again. I’m afraid Bob has come up with a particularly nasty punishment, which on the one hand scares me, but on the other hand also triggers a certain excited, curious shudder in me. With the words, “Hold this tight!” he puts an egg in each of my hands, which I can only hold with my thumb and little finger.

“Boy, you baked that cake beautifully earlier. I have to commend you for that. But you were also distracted and messed up. I can’t let that go. You were already cocky before. Your lust is sometimes so strong that you let yourself go. You have to learn to control that, and I want to help you.

As I said, it’s a friend’s birthday today, and I’d like to take you with me and introduce you to my friends. But I don’t want you to get cocky and embarrass me. We’ll have to leave in a few hours. Until then, we have some time for some training that will help you concentrate and control yourself. You have an egg in each hand. I’m about to start the electrostimulation program and leave you alone. You mustn’t drop the eggs. Since you can only hold them with your thumb and little finger, you must be very focused. You mustn’t let horniness or pain distract you.

I know this situation is very oppressive. Locked in a small cell, strapped to a table, even your head is immobilized. The stimulation will distract you, help you. But it will also have breaks every now and then. During these breaks, your situation will become more deeply conscious. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and let your new position as my slave—even if it’s a trial one—sink in. Don’t let yourself get too caught up in your thoughts; stay focused on holding the eggs. Just let the situation sink in, let it become your new normal.

I also know the exercise isn’t easy. That’s why you have two eggs. If you drop one, there’s only a minor punishment—I’ll spank you. But if you drop both eggs, you’re not ready to meet my friends. Then I’ll go to the party alone and leave you here as you are, only the program will offer less stimulation so you can reflect more.”

Holding the eggs with just two fingers is very unstable. I feel like I’ve already lost. I look at him through the straps of the muzzle, trying to make the most pleading look possible while whining into the gag. Bob’s gaze softens, almost loving. He strokes me, kisses the muzzle, and briefly rests his head on my chest so that our chins touch. “Your helpless look, lying here like this, makes me melt. But for your own good, I have to insist. Try hard and you will make it!”

With that, he leaves the room. I hear him locking the door from the outside. Then only silence; the room is completely acoustically sealed. Oppressive. I see myself in the mirror, lying there in the black PVC suit, held up by the white straps, my thighs spread wide with the thick, full bulge of the diaper between them. I feel so helpless and vulnerable again. Under normal circumstances, I would have tugged at my restraints to test them, but I hardly dare make a single movement; my two eggs are hanging too precariously between my fingers. I know I could never get out of the restraints anyway.

I wait anxiously for the electrostimulation to start. I know Bob is watching me, and I know he’s controlling the device with his smartphone. He keeps me waiting. He knows I’m waiting. As always, time is on his side… I’m really trying hard! I don’t want to lose this training. It’s not so much the fear of being locked up here—well, yes, that is too. But above all, I really want to go to the party. When Bob said this morning he wanted to introduce me to his friends, it warmed my heart. It almost sounded like a relationship. When you bring someone into your circle of friends, it means something. And maybe this is also a first step towards normalization, a shared life alongside the whole bondage and SM thing. I wonder how it will go. He probably won’t lead me there on a leash, will he? Do his friends know about his fetish? On the other hand, Bob told me that his slave is always under control. How is he going to do that, in public? Is a concealed electric shock device used?

But Bob wouldn’t be Bob if he didn’t include something else that was a challenge for me. I’ve gotten used to a lot with Bob over the last few days, but it was always just the two of us; it was intimate. Will he force me to keep my diaper on under my clothes? Everyone will see my big bundle, my waddling gait. The pee will keep dripping into the diaper. Bob will probably force me to keep drinking so the diaper gets thoroughly soaked. The thought makes me blush with shame. Yes, Bob wouldn’t be Bob if he didn’t plan something like this.

And yet curiosity prevails. What kind of friends does Bob have? A person’s social environment and how he interacts with it reveal a person’s character even more clearly. I’m looking forward to getting to know more facets of this man, who sometimes has such a contradictory nature. On the one hand so loving, on the other hand so sadistic, harsh, consistent. Or is it simply his dominance, his power, that he wants to exert? He wants to shape me, to educate me. But why? Does he have a goal? Or is he primarily interested in shaping me because he likes it? Now he wants me to focus. To concentrate. To be good, not to do anything stupid. As oppressive as the situation is right now, the way he forced me into it somehow turned me on: feeling his power, but also his physical strength, which pushes me down with ease. The thought makes my cock hard again.

Suddenly an electric shock! I flinch. I had drifted off, lost concentration! I just barely manage to prevent both eggs from falling out right at the start. Suddenly I am fully focused. The sensations in my crotch don’t allow any other thoughts to occur. The tingling, intense, horny, slightly painful. It gets stronger. I arch my back slightly. It isn’t easy. I have to keep my thoughts on my hands, but the horny pain draws my attention to my cock. The plug is also in. It feels as if it is drilling into my hole. Then a few sharp, hard shocks that make my cock shrink back down, and it’s over.

The pause is only brief; the tingling slowly returns, building up, working its way up in waves. My cock wants to get hard again, but is pushed down between my legs by the tightly tied diaper. In my mind’s eye, I see Bob sitting on the sofa, legs apart, one leg bent, in his black tracksuit that stretches over his muscles. On the screen in front of him, he sees me lying in the cell, perhaps one camera zooming in on my face in the muzzle, another zooming in on my diaper, registering every slightest movement. And Bob, with his smartphone in complete control, making my cock hard or flaccid by remote control in a matter of seconds. Creating feelings in my lower abdomen that I had never experienced before, a horniness that triggers such an extreme desire for an orgasm and then suddenly disappears, or that can switch seamlessly from horniness to pain and back again. Bob, with one hand on his smartphone, rubbing his bulge with the other.

The stimulation becomes stronger again, reaching the limits of what is bearable. I remember how I clawed at Bob’s ass cheek in pain and horniness and how great it felt to reach through his crotch from the front, the muscles all around my hand. Grabbing those muscles to endure the pain! With an audible crack, the egg breaks in my right hand – I pressed too hard! Fuck!! I manage to catch the shell, but the yolk and egg white run over my hand and onto the floor. Fuck!! We talked about not dropping the egg, not about destroying – but I don’t think Bob is going to get involved in that kind of hair-splitting. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The first chance was already missed after what I guess was less than half an hour!

Still, I clutch the broken egg shell with all my strength. I want to show him that I’m not giving up. A series of nasty, hard shocks follows, my cock collapses, then a pause. Long pause. I concentrate, as Bob wants me to. I look at my reflection. The helpless creature, strapped down in such an open and defenseless position, my most sensitive body parts exposed. I have trouble grasping that this is me. I’ve never seen myself like this. I was always more of the confident, relaxed surfer type, or at least that’s how I wanted to see myself. Actually, I’m rather shy, but I tried to copy the look of the relaxed, confident surfer types. I’ve only seen myself like this once before, in Bob’s playroom, when I walked past the mirror in the rubber suit in chains, in a crouched position. There, too, I saw such a pathetic creature in the mirror and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, believe that it was me. It’s the same now. My brain can’t reconcile my self-image with what I see in front of me! I wiggle my feet. My reflection wiggles its feet too. I move my head slightly left and right, as far as the harness attached to the bed allows. I see the movement in the reflection, and yet it feels more like an old slapstick movie where someone breaks a mirror and then copies the person opposite them so he doesn’t notice the mirror is broken.

That’s how it feels to me. There’s someone lying on the other side of the mirror, doing the same things I’m doing. But it’s not me, that can’t be! Suddenly, electric shocks again, sudden and violent. I arch my back as far as the harness around my upper body allows. The belt through my crotch cuts noticeably into my diaper. The electric shock has once again forced a good gush of pee into my bladder. The shocks continue, tormenting me. A rapid succession of hard impulses, very unpleasant. I writhe in the restraints, keeping my eyes open for once, and see my reflection. I see how it tries to writhe in pain, to press its thighs together, to assume a defensive stance, but the restraints don’t allow it, they only tighten around its limbs. I see the suffering in its face, its head trying to rear up. And I feel for him, feel pity for my reflection now that I see it, feel twice as much: my pain and, in sympathy, that of my reflection. I clutch my eggs tightly – concentration!

The brief painful episode is replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation. Even now, I carefully observe my reflection in the mirror. It doesn’t have much room to move, but I can see a certain tension in the body, the head slightly pushed back, the crotch bulging outward. Lust! Despite the slight movement, I can see the lust! And even now, I feel with my reflection, experiencing everything almost twice as much.

Then, suddenly, a pause. I feel a cramp in my left fingers, which are still holding the whole egg. The right one works better; I have a good grip through the hole in the shell. In the mirror, I see the two hands sticking out sideways over the bed, with nothing to hold onto, but my arms still securely secured at the forearm. I’d like to pull my hand toward my body, relieve the pressure, but that’s not an option. I move my left hand in circles, trying to relax it, being very careful and concentrating hard, watching myself closely in the mirror.

It’s a long pause. I try to stay focused. If Bob is really watching me, he’ll wait for me to drift off, and then the electric shocks will come. Oh, great Bob, nasty Bob… immediately I have a picture of him in my mind’s eye again: that sad, absent look while I was showering, that focused look after I said “yes”… oh, while I was showering, how I was allowed to touch him, everywhere. Now only in small doses again. Briefly here, briefly there. This morning I missed him dosing it out; it had lost some of its appeal to be allowed to have it all at once. Now I wish I had a little more of him, I long for his thighs, his chest, I can see it all in front of me—but stop! I force myself to ignore it; I have to concentrate! Bob wants me to focus on my reflection during the breaks. He wants me to stay in the cell, even in my thoughts. My eyes wander over the reflection again; it also shows the room. It’s barely larger than the bed, perhaps a meter wide. Cramped. Oppressive. The black walls, the black floor, the black bed—everything emphasizes the narrowness.

The poor creature seems lost in the room. Lonely. I suddenly feel lost too, lonely. I miss Bob. I miss being allowed to think about him. I look at the reflection in the mirror. I think, it can’t be true that that’s me. But in the back of my mind a voice is already saying, “That’s you.” It’s no longer the disbelief. Now I don’t want to believe it! A small part of me already knows that it is me, but the rest of my mind fights against it, doesn’t want to accept it. It doesn’t fit into my self-image, my plans. That can’t be me, that’s not who I am! A large part fights, a small part accepts. Accepts because Bob wants it that way. And accepts because something feels good about accepting what Bob wants.

Meanwhile, almost unnoticed, the tingling started again. It was very faint at first, but now it’s growing stronger. I let myself fall into the feeling, or rather, slide into it. My cock gets hard again, as far as it can. It gets more intense, almost to the point of pain. I don’t resist, I allow it. Then the hard, painful impulses come again—I let them wash over me. I concentrate on the eggs in my hands and on my reflection in the mirror.

A few more cycles follow, and each one gets better. I’m increasingly accepting that what I see in the mirror is me – but still only partially; there’s still some internal resistance. Each time, the break between stimulations gets longer.

But gradually I’m becoming restless. A lot of time has passed. My diaper is now quite wet and feels uncomfortable. My arms and legs are suffering from not being able to move. My head, extremely constrained by the muzzle, is longing for freedom! It’s gotten warm in the cell, I’m sweating into the suit; it sticks to my skin. Everything is getting uncomfortable, it’s too much for me. I want out now! Where is Bob?? I see myself in the mirror, tugging futilely at the restraints. From the outside, it seems even more helpless. The eggs in my hand are just annoying, but now they’re even more important to me. The threat of staying here for hours while Bob is at the party seems completely unthinkable. The thought alone makes panic rise in me! No, not that! It’s also due to the increasingly longer breaks. Without stimulation, there’s no distraction. Better the painful shocks than nothing!

As if Bob had heard my inner plea, a series of painful impulses suddenly hit me. They caught me off guard, completely by surprise. In the impending panic, I lost concentration and jumped at the first shock. The egg in my left hand slipped from my fingers, I hear the shell break on the floor. I am stunned; I feel myself collapsing inside. If Bob considered the broken shell in my right hand a mistake, I would have to stay here for hours. I can’t stand it! Tears of despair well up inside me. Then I feel Bob’s hand. As always. He is there at just the right moment and catches me before I plunge into the depths.

“Okay, slave, we have to get going!” We? He’s taking me with him??? “You dropped an egg. You’re getting spanked on the butt for that. The second egg, well, you’re holding parts of it, parts are on the floor. Honestly, most of it is on the floor. But you held and defended the rest so bravely, I’ll give you credit for that. And besides, I really want to show you to my friends.”

Show? He said “introduce” before, right? There’s not much difference, but I’ve learned to listen to Bob’s subtleties. What does he mean? He starts untying me, but first secures my hands behind my back before freeing my legs. Yes, that’s meticulous Bob again, never leaving a gap between two positions that I could use to get free. He does it so routinely, so naturally, that I wonder if he was just acting this morning.

A firm tug on the leash. “Come on, we have to get you changed for the party!”

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