By bondagegimp

Matt and John

Did Bob send me a message? I don’t know, but the small gesture gives me some courage. Despite the cramped conditions in the cage, I start to resist a little. I rub my head against the bars and finally manage to pull off the blindfold. I can’t help but laugh. Something like this would never have happened to Bob. I’ve never managed to get rid of anything he put on me! With Bob, everything is always double-locked. Unless it’s a trick. Is that why I was able to run away? Is it all a game?

The blindfold is only a small victory, because I can’t free myself from the remaining restraints. But at least I can see a little bit again. I can’t see out the windows, but at least I can see the trunk and the dog cage I’m stuck in. I don’t feel quite so helpless anymore.

After a short drive, the car stops and the trunk opens. Matt is a little annoyed about the blindfold, but it doesn’t have any further consequences. They pull me out of the cage by the leash and toward the house. It stands, like all the houses around here, very isolated in the landscape. They pull me into the house and immediately down the cellar stairs.

They have a small dungeon down here, and the first thing they do is put me in a cage. Now they start arguing. They speak in a dialect; I can only understand fragments. It’s about me, that’s clear. They’re unsure. They want to write to friends, find out who I am or who I belong to. It all sounds a bit chaotic. If it’s a performance for me that Bob arranged, then it’s really well acted! But, it’s too well acted, it’s unrealistic that it’s all arranged by Bob. So that unsettles me. If Bob didn’t arrange it, what does it mean for me? Or did he arrange it in such a way that I can’t understand it?

The two of them are definitely not particularly bright. Eventually they both start tapping on their smartphones, but after a short while they leave the room and go upstairs. I’m here alone now, in a cage in the basement of two complete strangers. They kidnapped me, practically in front of Bob. Almost. I ran away. Was that stupid? Will Bob come looking for me? He didn’t even come after me. Why? If I’m honest, that’s what hurts me the most. Sure, it bothers me that I’m now in the power of two somewhat rude and stupid guys, locked in a cage. But what hurts me most is the image of Bob just standing there, watching me run away. I thought he was running after me, fighting for me.

I know that’s somewhat contradictory. When I realize this, I’m a little confused myself. I ask myself what my motivation was for running away. Did I want to get away? Did I want to test Bob? No, I wanted to get away, but unintentionally it turned into a test for Bob. And I’m disappointed. Hurt. John and Matt. They have me in their power. But I don’t care right now. What’s the point of all this? Would I be happier if I’d met “normal” people instead? They would have looked at me in horror. They would have taken a pocketknife, cut open the rubber mask, removed the gag. Then they would have asked a lot of questions, with a horrified but also voyeuristic, fascinated curiosity. They would have taken me to the police station, even if I didn’t want them to. “Did this ‘Bob’ kidnap you?” Well, not really. “So how? Did he keep you against your will? Where does he live? Can you take us there? We’d like to talk to this ‘Bob’.”

Would I want to get Bob into trouble? If not, then I would have to say that none of this happened against my will. So why did I run away? It’s complicated! What am I to Bob? What is Bob to me? What do I want?

My plan wasn’t good from the start. Now it’s taken perhaps the most unfortunate turn. Although… right now I’m glad I didn’t end up with ”normal people”. Their cage of supposed but hypocritical virtue would be more uncomfortable for me than the cage I’m sitting in. Although time is making the steel cage heavier. Oppressive. I can’t stretch out, can’t sit up straight. I toss and turn from one position to the other. My bound hands are annoying. It’s taking a while. It’s starting to hurt.

At some point, Matt and John return. “So, we’ve messaged some friends to see if anyone is missing a slave. No response yet. Well, until someone gets in touch, we can have a little fun. You seem to be into it!”

They drag me out of the cage, take off my sweatpants, and pull my hoodie over my head so that it only hangs over my arms. Using bolt cutters, they break the lock that binds my hands to the belt. Now they can take off my hoodie, and I can move my hands freely, although they’re still in their mitts.

Full of curiosity, they go to my diaper, first pulling off the rubber pants over it, then ripping the diaper off my body. When they discover the special rubber shorts underneath, they are fascinated again. They slowly take them off, discover the plug and its connection to the elastic struts. They play a bit with the shorts, realizing how the plug moves when the legs pull the struts along. They laugh dirty, making jokes about how it must have been when I ran towards them. That I must have enjoyed it. That things like that turn me on anyway. Of course, they also discovered the rubber sheath in my hole and now they stick their fingers in, delighting in my reactions. They also play with my cock. I try to turn away, to escape, but it doesn’t work. I can’t avoid them having several fingers in my hole, poking around in it and playing with my cock at the same time. I can’t avoid my cock getting hard sometimes, but only rarely. It’s no comparison to Bob, where just seeing him is enough to make my cock hard.

After playing with me a bit, or rather, “tugging around,” they both got horny. They dragged me to a rack and strung me up so that my ass was open and inviting. Do they want to fuck me now? No, I don’t want them to! Not them! I scream in my gag, tugging at the straps, but I don’t stand a chance. They start lubricating my hole, preparing it with fingers and dildos. It feels like they’re about to rape me—which, in a way, they intend to do. I wonder why I’ve never felt that way about Bob, even though he also gags and ties me up and then fucks me without asking.

It’s not that Matt and John are ugly. Quite the opposite; they’re both pretty good-looking. Actually, very sexy. But it’s their character. I don’t like it. I don’t like them! I found Bob sexy right from the start. But also appealing. And he has a great deal of emotional intelligence. I just like him! I like his intimacy, I like the way he touches me, even when he’s causing me pain, torturing me. Oh Bob!

But Matt and John, no, I don’t want that. They notice that I’m not relaxing my hole at all and now they switch to hitting my ass with a strap. It’s more painful than Bob’s bare hand, even though Bob had spanked my bare bottom. But didn’t Tom say back then that he’d never seen Bob “so gentle”? I thought it was a joke at the time, but now I understand what he meant. It’s brutal. I scream into the gag, writhe, tug at the restraints, but I can’t escape. I scream into the gag, tears well up in my eyes, and at some point all I can do is whimper.

After a while they stop hitting me and go back to my hole. I’m even more tense now; even a really thin dildo can hardly fit in and it hurts terribly. I keep screaming into the gag. “Yes, scream, it makes me even hotter. Come on John, we’ll fuck him just like that. He probably especially likes it when it really hurts when he gets fucked!” Such assholes, they really have no idea! I scream into the gag, they should fuck off, I belong to Bob and no one else! And Bob will beat them if they do anything to me, he’s protecting me! But apart from “hmmpf hmmmmmpf hmmpf” nothing comes out of my gag.

Matt is already starting, trying to push his cock into me, but I’m squeezing my hole shut with all my might. He’s not hard enough, he can’t do it. I’m laughing inwardly, or maybe not only inwardly. I think they can hear my mocking snort, despite the gag. Matt is getting really angry now, gets a bigger dildo, and wants to ram it into my hole with brute force. Then I hear a “bing,” John shouts something to Matt that I don’t understand. Then they talk to each other for a while in their provincial dialect, agitated and loud. Then they just leave. But Matt comes back again and this time brutally shoves the dildo into my hole, making me yelp in pain, a pain that I can feel all the way down to my toes. Matt takes another rope, wraps it around the protruding part of the dildo, and attaches one loose end to my balls, pulling everything tight, then ties the other loose end to my collar so I can feel the pull on my neck, the dildo, and my balls. Fnally he goes up the basement stairs.

I’m alone now, and glad of it. I can feel the pulsing pain from the brutal blows in my buttocks. Bob actually did very similar things, but it always made me horny somehow, or it led to a pleasant feeling of security; it brought me closer to Bob. But now? It all feels like shit. It doesn’t turn me on at all. I feel nothing like that for Matt and John; I feel nothing but contempt.

When I think about how Bob humiliated me at the party! First he announced in front of everyone that he was punishing me and why. Then he put me over his knee and spanked me. And I got hard from it in front of everyone, which made the humiliation even worse. But still! I got hard! I, or something inside me, found it hot, despite everything! And afterward I could crawl into Bob’s muscles, his lap, I found a place of security with him where I could collect myself after all the humiliation. Tears are welling up in my eyes again, but this time not because of John and Matt, but because of Bob. What did I do? Now I understand what the guys at the party said to me, how much they envied me for Bob.

More movement on the stairs. Matt and John come back, still arguing loudly. More slaps on my bottom, one grabs the dildo and shakes it violently, I scream into the gag. “Hmmmmmmpf.” Matt says they’ve found my Master, he’ll be back for me shortly. My heart leaps, hope! Bob! Then, the doorbell rings, they go back upstairs, I hear voices, a bit muffled. But I don’t hear Bob. The third voice is not Bob. I know it, but it’s too far away. Now the voices are getting closer, they’re coming down the cellar stairs. Now I recognize the third voice. Tom? What does Tom want here? Where is Bob? Why is Tom coming?

Back to Bob

He’s not my master or owner! I belong to Bob! What does Tom want here? They come to me, Matt and John remove my restraints, Tom puts a collar on me, and they free me from the rack. Tom gives the leash a quick tug, and we go up the stairs, out of the house, to his car; it’s already dark. I don’t turn around; I’m just glad to be out of here. Tom puts me in the passenger seat and buckles me in. I’m relatively free; no handcuffs or leg restraints. Only the mitts and gag restrict me. I’m still in the suit, head to toe. Only my cock hangs limply out the front. A week ago, this would have been uncomfortable, but now I hardly notice it.

Tom goes back, they talk briefly, and Tom brings the bundle of remaining things with him: the tracksuit, the pants with the plug, and so on. We drive through the night, silent at first. I have a lot of questions, but the gag doesn’t allow me to speak. After a while, Tom starts talking. “I’m taking you to Bob now. John had sent around the news during the scene that they’d found a stray slave in the woods. It quickly became clear to me that it had to be you, because Bob had told me that afternoon that you’d run away while out for a walk. He was pretty upset. I called Bob to say Matt and John had you, but he didn’t answer his phone tonight. I didn’t want to risk you having to spend the night with those two guys, so I came to get you. We’ll see if we can find Bob; he should be home. If necessary, I’ll take you to my place first.”

Tom doesn’t say anything else. On the way, he tries to reach Bob again, but he doesn’t answer. With mixed feelings, I wait to see what will happen when we get to Bob’s place. I’m completely confused now, and I also feel a bit guilty. When we get to Bob’s, everything is dark. Tom takes my leash and rings the bell, but nothing moves. Tom hesitates a bit. “Bob might have taken a sleeping pill. Maybe we should go in and see if everything’s okay.” Right, Tom has a key. Everything is dark on the ground floor. We go upstairs to the bedroom. Behind the door, we hear Bob snoring. Tom carefully opens the door and turns on the light. Bob wakes up and sees Tom first; I’m still standing behind Tom in the hallway on the leash, also completely black from head to toe.

Bob looks confused, and also kind of sad. Sleepily, he asks Tom what’s wrong, but Tom just pulls on the leash, allowing me into the bedroom. “Look who I found!” Bob’s face brightens. He stands up, comes to me, but doesn’t touch me at first. Tom briefly explains what happened, then takes off my collar and says a curt goodbye. We are alone and hear Tom’s car drive away. I stand in front of Bob without any restraints, just wearing the suit with the mask, and the gag and mitts of the suit underneath. I stand in front of Bob, a little embarrassed and unsure. I’m actually glad about the gag; I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Bob just stands in front of me, silent, too, looking at me for a long time, somewhat hesitantly, almost suspiciously. I don’t dare move; I don’t know how to behave.

Then Bob comes up to me and silently takes me in his arms. He holds me tightly for a long time, pressing me to him. “Come on, let’s go to sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow about what happened today.” We lie down in bed, and I snuggle up to Bob. He hugs me loosely and soon falls asleep again. I’m glad to be back, to feel Bob next to me. My arms are free, so I turn to Bob, use my free arms, and hug him for a change. I’m fascinated again by how big his body is. I stroke his broad body with my mitted fists, then snuggle my head against his chest. He pulls me towards him; it’s nice.

But somehow it’s different than the last few nights; it’s not as intimate; something stands between us. It’s also unusual for me to sleep without restraints, “just” in a rubber suit with mitts and a gag. I could get up and leave at any time. Or play with my cock. Yes, today I wanted to be free. Now I’m still enclosed in a rubber suit, but for some reason I’m more worried about the fact that I’m otherwise free. It doesn’t feel right. I put my hands on my cock, play with it a bit. It’s not really fun. How often in the last few days have I had the urge to just touch my cock for a moment! Bob has never allowed it! The chains are always just a little too short, or my cock is in its cage! Very rarely did Bob allow me to touch my cock, but always only for a very short time, just long enough to get the taste for it again.

And now? Nothing’s stopping me, but it doesn’t turn me on either. I play around with it a bit anyway, maybe even to provoke Bob a little. I’m not sure. At some point he notices and turns me over so that my back is to him – spooning. He puts his arm over my abdomen, loosely covering my cock. I can’t reach it anymore unless I push Bob’s arm aside. It somehow bothers me that I could get to it so easily. It’s not Bob’s style! I briefly consider whether I should do it. I’d like to provoke him further until he ties my hands or puts the cage on me. But I don’t want to overdo it, so I stay calm. With somewhat mixed feelings, I eventually fall asleep.

Unusual freedom

When I wake up, Bob is still asleep, but light is already coming through the curtains. I watch Bob sleep. His body is under the covers, and I can only see his face. He has a beautiful face. His full lips, framed by his trimmed beard, his prominent cheekbones. He looks so peaceful while sleeping.

He wakes up, looks at me, and smiles gently. “I’m so glad you came back. You probably want to get out of the suit and take a shower now, right?” I nod. Yes, the suit is really tiring now, especially the gag. Bob stands up, and I follow him into the tiled room. There, he unzips the suit and opens the zipper enough for me to get out myself. “I’ll put a diaper down for you. But you don’t have to put it on if you don’t want to. And if you want a plug, pick out one of the red ones. You can clean out yourself, right? And you’ll find some lube, too. There are a few things to wear in the closet. Pick out what you feel like and then come downstairs. I’ll make breakfast in the meantime.”

What’s going on now? I’m completely confused. Bob’s already left. I slowly take off my suit. Bob is so nice, but also a bit distant. Or insecure? For now, I enjoy the shower. It’s my first time showering freely, except for that one time with Bob when I got to soap him up. Before that, I was always tied up. Bob soaped me up, and it was more like groping and fingering me than a normal shower. It’s a strange feeling, doing it alone and completely freely now.

I go next door. There’s a diaper on the lounger, along with lockable rubber pants and three open locks – well, at least a little bit of normality. The red plugs he was talking about are on the shelf. I knew immediately which ones he meant. There’s a whole series of plugs, from quite small to very large, about the size of a large fist. There are even bigger ones, but not in this series. Bob used the plugs on me often. I think they were the ones from the first evening, when I was supposed to choose one. In the end, I think he used the fourth one in the series, and in the days that followed, he used larger ones. The last one was a little above the middle. But that one was quite a challenge and couldn’t be endured for long.

Only one of the closets is open. It contains the more normal clothes, a few tracksuits and the like. The closets with the rubber suits or PVC overalls and the like are all locked. I stand in the room, undecided, wondering what to do next. I look at the diaper with the lockable rubber pants. I look at the plugs. And back into the closet. It’s the first time I’ve been able to be in the room without restraints and completely free. I walk around the playroom—still naked—and take a leisurely look at the things hanging on the walls. Leather restraints, steel restraints, masks of all kinds, including some I haven’t worn yet. Thickly padded ones made of leather or rubber. The steel head cage that I had to wear a few times while working. I’m still confused by Bob’s behavior, that I should now choose for myself. What does he mean by that? A test? Hmm. Or is he really just letting me choose?

Oh, why should I puzzle over it for so long? I should just do what I want, what I feel like doing! But what do I want? I actually didn’t like the diaper from the start. I hated having to pee in it. But I quite like plugs in a comfortable size these days; I’ve gotten used to it. If I’m honest, I particularly liked them in combination with the diaper. And whenever Bob put the diaper on me, I somehow found it hot. But the fact was that he chose the plug, stuffed me, put the diaper on me; in fact, he forced me to wear the diaper and plug. I had no choice! The thought of putting everything on myself now is somehow boring. That would mean I’d be admitting that I actually like it.

I take my time to look through the clothes. One suit catches my eye: it’s made of very thin, shiny black nylon. Bob was wearing one like that recently; it looked so sexy on him. This one is closer to my size, but otherwise quite similar. I secretly hope Bob is wearing his too.

Now that I’ve decided, I’m standing in front of the diaper again, undecided. What did Bob say about it earlier? Was it really completely open, should I be completely free to choose? I tell myself that Bob was hinting that I should wear it. Honestly, I wish he’d put it on me and fasten it. Or order it. But at least he put the locks down. That’s actually a clear indication. With a plug, of course. I don’t know how long I’ll have to wear it, so I’m a bit cautious, choosing a few sizes smaller than the ones I already had, around the middle of the first half.

I go back into the tiled room with the plug, take the special hose, and rinse my hole—for the first time, I’m doing it myself. I do it the way Bob always did, only I’m not tied to a rack or a trestle. With a little lube, I get the plug in easily. It’s really not that big. I briefly consider going up a size, but no, it’s actually very comfortable.

Back to the playroom, diaper on, rubber pants over it, and fasten them around my thighs and hips. I think Bob tightened the straps one hole tighter, but it’s a bit more comfortable this way. Now put on the sexy tracksuit and I’m done. I go downstairs, the table is already set, Bob is sitting comfortably on the sofa with a coffee, waiting. He’s wearing very simple fabric tracksuit pants and a loose T-shirt. He still looks sexy, he always looks sexy. But it’s no comparison to his other outfits, the short shorts, the shiny nylon suits, the rubber shorty, or the Lycra clothes, under which his muscles were so indescribably visible. To say I’m disappointed would be going too far. But I can already tell that a little tension is missing.

And now I see the table is set for two! That’s never happened before. Either the bowl or I knelt next to him and he fed me. And Bob always ate first and I knelt with my head between his legs until he was finished. I stand around a bit undecided. Bob comes to the table with his coffee, sits down, pours coffee into the second cup and laughs at me. “Do you want to stay standing there? Come on, sit down.” It’s a bit like in some films where someone wakes up in the morning and everything is completely different.

I sit down. For the first time in a good week, I’m sitting at the dining table, eating breakfast like an ordinary person. Bob asks me if I slept well, if I enjoyed my shower. “And I see you chose the diaper. I’m glad. With a plug, too? Yes? … What size? … The suit looks good on you! Good choice!” And so on. Small talk. He avoids addressing Matt and John. At one point, he just briefly mentions that he has some important work to do right now and would rather discuss the topic in peace this afternoon. “I have a list of things that need to be done around the house. Could you do it while I’m working? Then we’ll have more time together in the afternoon. But first, I want to show you something.”

He gets up and heads toward the basement. Hesitantly, I follow him, a little scared. Somehow the whole situation makes me nervous; Bob is so different. Is he planning something? Is the surprise in the basement coming now? When Bob sees that I’m hesitating, he just laughs. “Come on, I won’t hurt you! I really just want to show you something!” I follow Bob into the basement, a side corridor with a few doors. He opens one of the heavy steel doors, but inside is more of an ordinary storage room. I immediately recognize my backpack on the shelf! Next to it, carefully folded, are the clothes I was wearing when I met Bob. The sneakers he put me in for the walk yesterday have also been put away again. Also on the shelf is a clear box containing my wallet, passport, keys, and phone. Everything is carefully stored here behind the door. “When I used to have subs over for an afternoon or a weekend to play with, sometimes several at once, I got into the habit of storing everything neatly here so nothing gets lost. I just wanted to show you this so you know where your things are.” With that, he leaves the room, closes the door again, but doesn’t lock it.

Back upstairs, he hands me the list. It’s the same chores I’ve done over the past week, but always in shackles, with the steel cage on my head, chained to the pole, and the annoying little additional shackles that made the work more difficult. As we leave, Bob briefly ruffles my head and thanks me for doing the chores. “You’ll probably finish faster than I will. When you’re done, you can rest. You can also watch TV or do whatever you want. There’s a tablet in the living room for internet access – password 1234.”

I’m even more irritated. I clear the breakfast dishes, wash a few things in the kitchen, take care of the laundry, do a bit of cleaning. I work through the list in the order I want. Usually, Bob would have taken me from room to room and chained me up again. Now, for the first time, I can move freely around the house. And I finish very quickly. Without the annoying restraints, everything goes much faster. Luckily, because it’s also more boring. Occasionally, I regret choosing the smaller plug. I can barely feel it. Otherwise, I always had pressure on my prostate while working, which annoyed me, but which was also hot. Which plug would Bob have chosen for me today? More likely a middle-of-the-road one, I think. He usually chooses one a size or two smaller than the largest I’ve had in me before, so not too bad, but a bit of a challenge and uncomfortable in the long run. But I was too cautious, I think now. It’s too small. Something is missing.

I got a little thirsty, so I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. Bob would always force water or tea into my mouth while I worked, so I kept having to pee, and my diaper gradually got heavier and thicker, and eventually it started to feel wet. I always hated that. I still find it difficult to pee in my diaper anyway. It’s still a challenge. But still, after a few days, it somehow felt right. Am I missing that? I drink another glass of water. And another.

I’m finished with work. I’ve also already prepared sandwiches for the afternoon, even though it’s probably still a few hours until Bob is ready. What should I do now? I go into the living room. I sit down on the sofa. I don’t want to watch TV right now. There are a few magazines lying around. I leaf through them listlessly. The tablet is on the coffee table. I stare at it. I haven’t seen or read the news in a week. Only occasionally in passing, when Bob was watching TV and I was lying on his lap—usually wearing a mask. It was actually nice to be shielded, to lie on Bob’s lap, not to think about the news. And watch some cat videos now? No, I really don’t feel like that right now either; it doesn’t suit my mood at all.

I could go down to the basement to my belongings. Turn on my phone. I hadn’t been reachable for a long time. No one knows where I am. Maybe some people are worried? But I had used the trip as a time out, told everyone I was going to switch off. I received a few calls in the first few weeks, but then it quieted down. Since I’ve been away, I’ve limited communication, even forgetting or ignoring friends’ and cousins’ birthdays. I’m in a phase of self-discovery here, I noticed that right from the start; I needed distance from my previous life. It was never completely possible. Whenever a WhatsApp message comes in, I always glance at it quickly. That kept drawing me back to my old world. These days with Bob, without a phone, were the perfect digital detox in that respect. Sure, a lot of other things were happening, and that was more of a side effect. But: My thoughts were freed; I hardly thought about my old life anymore. It was nice to completely isolate myself for a few days, to concentrate on something else. On Bob.

Why is Bob giving me so much freedom today? What am I supposed to do with it? I make a decision. Yes, this is what I want! I go upstairs to the playroom, take the collar and leather bondage mitts that Bob had put on me in the car, and go to Bob’s study. I hesitate a bit in front of the door. But then I knock gently. Bob calls me in. I approach Bob, mitts and collar in hand. I kneel on the floor next to Bob, place the leather cuffs on my lap, wrap my arms around his leg, and rest my head against his thigh. Bob strokes my head. “I need about two more hours. If you stay quiet, you can stay here.”

Freedom from, freedom to

It was the right decision! I feel comfortable here. I’m staying in this world for now. If I had turned on my phone, who knows what kind of messages would come through. It would tear me out of this world. And I’ve just decided to stick with the two-week trial period after all. I’ll decide then. But until then, I don’t want to give up on this.

I’m a little disappointed that Bob hasn’t responded at all to the collar and mitts. It was a gesture from me that he simply ignored. But Bob just keeps working, focused. Every now and then he strokes my head, but he still seems a bit distant. Nevertheless, it feels more right now. Earlier in the living room, everything felt so pointless, so random. Bob had given me too much freedom.

I remember philosophy class. I don’t remember who it was, but someone introduced the distinction between “freedom from” and “freedom to”: freedom from constraints, from dependencies, or—from restraints. And “freedom from” always leads to a responsibility to use that freedom. That is “freedom to,” freedom to do something, freedom to create something. “Freedom to” means having an answer to the question: What am I free to do and what will I use it for?

Bob had taken away my freedom in the most extreme ways imaginable, with restraints, gags, masks, rubber suits, and diapers. My simplest and most basic actions and needs were in his hands, controlled by him. What else was within my control? Breathing? Even that was often restricted by the masks. Eating, drinking, peeing—no freedom. He even had my horniness under control.

And today he gave me my freedom back. I could have gone down to the basement, gotten my things, and walked out of here. I could still do that now. But why? What am I going to do with my freedom? This one week with Bob has made it even clearer to me what I already suspected, why I’m making this journey. This unanswered question: what do I want to do with my life, what is the meaning of all of this? All the answers so far have always been determined by pragmatic considerations.

By taking away my most basic freedoms, Bob dissolved the question of “freedom to”—when you’re imprisoned, you relinquish responsibility for “why.” As paradoxical as it may sound, I experienced Bob taking away my freedom on another level as liberation! A dangerous thought; tempting, seductive. Relinquishing responsibility, not having to make decisions because someone else takes control of everything.

The freedom today was also a liberation from Bob. Is that why I feel this distance to him? Yes. But there’s more, I sense it.

Conversation in the garden

Bob is finished with his work. He stands up. “Go out into the garden. I’ll get the sandwiches and something to drink.” I stand up, collar and mitts in my hand. I’m a little hesitant about taking them with me, but then I do. I go outside, lie down on the blanket, and enjoy the sun. I place the cuffs on the blanket where they’re clearly visible. Bob comes back with the sandwiches and a bag containing two water bottles. He sees the mitts and collar, but ignores them, sits down for a while, and starts eating. He sits opposite me. No touching. Just now, too; all the touching was brief, superficial. It reminds me a bit of the second morning, when I almost left. He’d already given up on me inside. I can’t take it anymore. “Bob, can we talk about yesterday? I’m so sorry I…”

He interrupts me. “You don’t have to be sorry! I am sorry. Everything went wrong, completely different than planned! You probably already realized that I had planned your escape, or rather, allowed it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have escaped me. I wanted to see if you were really trying to run away. With all the things I had put on you, you were so slow, I would have caught you right away, but I wanted to see if you would hesitate, maybe even come back on your own. I wanted to follow you unnoticed, watch you test your limits. See if you would soon regret it, want to come back. That was the plan. But then something went wrong. I hadn’t expected one thing. I hadn’t realized how deeply it would hurt me to see you run away. When you suddenly started running, I was paralyzed. I didn’t even activate the electro shock. It goes off on its own if you get too far away. I just stood there and watched you run away. I stood there. I couldn’t move. I was frozen, waiting to see if you might come back. I stood there for at least half an hour before I went back to the car. Then I sent a signal, a little stimulation, hoping you’d come back after all. I couldn’t have known that you’d run into Matt and John. Two bad guys. We know each other, of course, the scene is small. But I don’t like them. They’re not part of our clique. It’s good that Tom took care of you! I’ll be eternally grateful to him. I hope they didn’t do anything too bad to you.”

I told Bob about the evening with them. His expression darkened. He finally hugged me, but I still felt a distance. I spoke to him about it. Bob answered:

“Yes, I’ve been unsettled since yesterday. I thought I saw through you, at least in the essentials. You’re a complex person; reading and understanding your reactions has been a challenge for me from the start, but that’s what I love about you. You can surprise me, you challenge me! And your plan not to just run away, but to seek help right away, was smart. You probably knew that otherwise I could have caught you right away. But your plan caught me completely off guard; I hadn’t planned for that option, and perhaps I didn’t even think you were capable of it. I thought your shame was still too great for you to reveal yourself to complete strangers like that. And that’s exactly why it hit me so hard, because in that moment I realized how strong your will to escape is. In that moment I realized: You mean it. You really want to get away from me! And since then, I’ve been unsure how to deal with you. Do you really want to get away from me so badly? That’s why I gave you complete freedom today. I want to know. I had promised you that I’d let you go if I realized all of this wasn’t for you. Since yesterday, I’ve been unsure about this for the first time. And I don’t want you to decide today whether you’ll stay with me. That decision isn’t due for another week. But you have to decide today whether you want to end it sooner. Then we’ll end this today.

And of course, I noticed your gestures. You put on the diaper, voluntarily, and a plug too. But the plug is very small, isn’t it? And the rubber pants over the diaper are only fastened very loosely. You’re doubtful and hesitant. That’s okay, you’re allowed to do that; anything else would be abnormal. But I don’t know if I’m interpreting it all correctly.”

Wow. I’ve never seen Bob so open and vulnerable. He sees my look and laughs. “Now don’t look so surprised! I know you think I have everything under control, plan everything in advance, am always at least two steps ahead of you. You see, you feel every day that you are physically at my mercy. I am stronger, I have the keys, you are in chains, at my mercy. I can do whatever I want with you—that’s what you think! It’s normal that you perceive me as vastly superior. And yes, that’s true for most of the subs who have been here. But you are different. You’re smart. You think very complexly. You analyze precisely, plan, look ahead. With you, many things have a double meaning, you also have your tricks. That’s what makes you so exciting for me, so challenging. You tricked me yesterday, no one has ever done that. With you, even I reach my limits. And on top of that: I like you; I like you very much! More than any sub I’ve ever met. And that makes me vulnerable. And that’s why I want you to be open. talking. That’s why I haven’t responded to your hint about the collar and mitts yet, even though I was very happy about it. But first, I need to hear from you what’s going on inside you. Why did you want to run away yesterday and come back today with the collar? Sometimes I wonder who’s actually playing with whom here?”

I have to admit: I hadn’t really looked at the situation from that perspective. I only saw my needs, my concerns, my fears and worries. I hadn’t considered that Bob also had something at stake. Yes, I noticed his emotions now and then, but they were secondary to my fears. Not without reason, I think, given the big question before me. And he does indeed always seem so confident, so superior to me. But maybe that’s easy when one person is lying on the floor in chains, barely able to move, and the other, a mountain of muscle to boot, is standing over you, pushing you down with his foot.

Now it’s practically bubbling out of me. I tell Bob everything. My fears, my worries. Whether he’ll really let me make my own decision in a week. That I ran away because I was afraid it might be my last chance. But how quickly doubts returned after my escape, how quickly I missed him. How I needed him, how I was looking for him. How the little stimulation with the electric shock device gave me courage when I was kidnapped in the cage in Matt’s car. And I tell him how much it hurt me that he didn’t follow me; that he just stood there when I ran away. As paradoxical as it is: I wanted to run away, but I secretly wished he would follow me and catch me again. At this point, Bob suddenly embraces me with great emotion. I mean, he has tears in his eyes.

And then today: I was overwhelmed by the freedom. My conflict over the diaper. My cautious choice of plug, which I later regretted. And I explained that I didn’t know what to do with my free time. Magazines, the internet—all of it didn’t interest me. Right up to my inner struggle over whether to get the phone and turn it on, and then finally my decision to come to him, with a collar and mitts—and how right that felt!

And last but not least: I was almost free all day. Maybe I need a break like that too. It felt good. But I was missing something. I lacked the desire. I didn’t see any lust in Bob, but I didn’t feel it in myself either. I asked Bob how he saw it, how much his desire was tied to controlling or torturing me. Because my desire, I’m slowly realizing, is somehow connected to that. And Bob tickles it out of me, often against some inner resistance. But it’s just not the same thing as putting on a diaper yourself or choosing the plug yourself. I want Bob to do it for me!

Bob watches me attentively the whole time. I notice his face brighten. Then he becomes serious again. “You know, if we continue now, if we continue your training, you won’t get another chance to escape. I won’t play such unsafe games like the one with the walk in the forest again. You’re putting yourself in my hands, under my control until you have to make a decision. And I won’t spare you anything during training! Your words encourage me. I was unsure today whether I’d overtaxed you. But I think you simply hadn’t understood what you needed yet. Today you’ve taken a big step. I’m happy about that, because yes, things like today don’t turn me on either. But don’t worry, I sometimes need breaks like today too. They just might not be quite as free as today. Because in the end, that’s exactly what I want: I want to control you, I want to tease the desire out of you, and I love feeling your inner resistance in the process. You must say now: Do you want to walk this path with me for another week, surrender yourself to me? Do you trust me?”

I can’t answer. But I take the collar and mitts and hold them out to him without saying a word. Bob takes the collar and puts it on me. Then the mitts. He takes the bag, which obviously contains more than just the two water bottles. Three small locks, which he uses to secure the collar and mitts. He takes the bag again. A chain and two larger locks. He turns my arms behind my back, connects the mitts with a lock, and to them the short chain. He uses them to pull my hands up my back, between my shoulder blades, until they hurt, and then attaches the chain to the collar with the second lock. The collar pulls on my neck; my arms are already starting to hurt. Bob pulls me towards him; I’m now lying with my back to him in his arms, he presses me tightly against him. His hands are on my chest. Through the thin nylon fabric, they search my nipples. I immediately harden at the touch. He plays with my nipples, sometimes gently, sometimes harder, twisting them, pinching, pressing, and pulling. One hand slides to the diaper.

My cock had been flaccid all day, despite the plug. The moment Bob pulled my hands up with the chain and connected them to the collar, it instantly became hard again. Bob kneads it through the diaper. He gives me a long, deep kiss. “We’re going to enjoy the evening sun here. Then we’ll continue your training. But first we’ll stuff your hole with a real plug. You’ve already outgrown this one!”

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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Romeo: bondagegimp

Recon: bondagegimpSTGT