By Bondagegimp

The decision

Now! Now I have to decide! FUCK! I’ve known for days, but for days I haven’t been able to! I’m torn! I can’t decide. The last long conversation with Bob three days ago only made things worse. I haven’t slept well since. I lay in bed brooding until I finally fell asleep from exhaustion. Then I had wild dreams. Of Bob, lying happily on a beach with me, like in a normal relationship. Of Bob, holding me captive in his dungeon for days, torturing me. Of a life without Bob, because I left him. When I wake up, I can barely shake the feelings. And either way, they aren’t good feelings. No scenario makes me happy.

The dream of us on the beach started off lighthearted, carefree. In the dream, it felt so good to simply be with Bob, to have a normal relationship with him. But then Bob’s gaze meets mine — an empty gaze, without passion, a gaze that triggers a deep feeling of bitter disappointment within me. It’s that feeling you get when you’ve known for a long time that a relationship has ended, but only that one look reveals the truth you’ve long suppressed — it’s over. A stab in the heart. And neither the white sand nor the aquamarine water of the paradisiacal setting can console me. The stab in the heart makes me bleed. In the dream, I feel the stab and then see my blood flowing onto the white sand, into the aquamarine water. Everything turns black. When I wake up, I feel empty, utterly empty.

Then I dreamt that I left Bob. At first, I was full of confidence. My decision seemed right; I was brave, full of energy. The world was open to me again. I saw the light, the serene promise of all that I could become or do. The sky opened. So bright, so much light. But then I turned around and saw Bob standing there. Motionless, he looked at me. The light drew me toward it; it was a pull. I couldn’t go back. The light, just moments before so promising and full of hope, became a whirlpool that swallowed me and pulled me in. It was as if I were drowning in the light, which relentlessly drew me in. I saw Bob trying to reach out his hand to me, but I couldn’t reach him anymore. Sinking in the current, I still saw Bob’s eyes, his horrified look, his desperate attempts to grasp me.

Still half asleep, I wanted to reach out my arm to him, but the pull held me back; I couldn’t move my arms. I woke up sobbing loudly — I had been crying in my sleep. My arms were still trying to reach for Bob, but they were actually bound to my body, held back by heavy chains. Still half-trapped in the dream, desperate, I sobbed, fought against the restraints, and tried to sit up. But I felt Bob embrace me, comfort me. He pulled me close without saying a word. He was simply there; I felt him, his body. He calmed me. Slowly, I found my way back to the real world. No pull, just chains. They were so much better than the pull. And Bob. Feeling Bob was so important. The warmth of his body, the closeness, the smell. I was so glad in that moment to be here, to feel Bob.

But there were also dreams in which Bob was cruel, throwing me into his dungeon, leaving me there, or worse, binding me in a torturous position and then simply ignoring me. I felt miserable and abandoned. Betrayed. A darkness descended upon me, engulfing me, oppressing me, choking me. But interestingly, it wasn’t Bob’s cruelty that hurt most, but his absence. It was the connecting thread of the dreams. Bob’s absence: the empty eyes, the way I was pulled away from him or how he pushed me away. It was always this feeling of distance in the dream that calmed down upon waking because I felt him beside me. Only in the sensation of his nearness could my emotions slowly subside. Only against his body did I find that comforting security again — but at the same time, I felt my bonds. Every movement was restricted, every bodily sensation under his control. I felt in every moment how imprisoned I was, how dependent, how helpless.

There were a few other dreams I don’t quite remember, but none of them were happy. My sleep was generally very restless, always quite tightly restrained, always within an opaque and somehow oppressive hood. And every time one of the nightmares jolted me awake, I was initially disoriented and filled with dark feelings — until I felt Bob beside me. He created a world for me in which I need him! His calm, regular breathing soothed me. I snuggled against him, and he immediately reached out, hugged me, stroked me, and rested his head against mine. In his arms, everything was alright again. To smell him, to feel him. I need him. I can’t live without him. The thought of leaving him breaks my heart, but at the same time, I’m so afraid of him, of what he has planned for me, of the ultimate loss of my freedom if I stay with him. It’s a conflict with no way out; I’m in a dead end I can’t get out of.

I’ve been agonizing over this question for days. For days I haven’t been able to reach a decision. For days I’ve been putting it off, for days I’ve been avoiding the question. And now I only have about two hours left. Two hours. Two hours, then I have to have decided. Or maybe not.

What exactly did he say?

“I know how much this decision is tormenting you. And I also know that you can never make an active decision that would completely and irrevocably surrender yourself to me, that would give up your freedom, that would make you my unconditional slave, forever. Even if deep down you might want it, you’re simply unable to admit it to yourself, let alone actively express it. That’s why I’ve come up with this: I’m going to Tom’s now to lift weights together. I’ll be back in two hours. If you want to leave, all you have to do is take off your restraints and go. Out the path by the garden gate, along the path to the road, then turn left; there’s a bus stop there. It’s less than ten minutes from here. The bus will take you into town. Go, and you’ll be free.

But if you want to stay with me, all you have to do is stay here. Just sit here in the garden and wait until I come back. If you’re still here in two hours, you’re mine! Completely, without exception. It’s your decision. Here are the keys.”

He pressed several sets of keys into my hands. Each set was carefully labeled: “Romper,” “Muzzle,” “Chastity Cage,” etc. He hugged me tightly once more. “I so hope you choose us!” With that, he disappeared through the garden gate, went to his car, and drove off without looking back. I watched him go, a tear in my eye, but mostly shocked by how suddenly things were getting serious. It shouldn’t have shocked me, though. It had been clear for days that this moment would come. I kept pushing it away. I’d like to claim I was constantly being distracted, but it was the other way around. I seized every opportunity to be distracted.

The last few days

Three days ago, it seemed like there was so much time left! I’m letting the last few days flash before my eyes. They were tough, very tough. Bob spared me nothing. It started innocently enough. The morning after the session with Jad, I was allowed to be there when Tom picked up Jad and Doggy. It was quite a spectacle. Tom and Bob struggled together with Jad to get him off the stretcher and put him back in chains.

Jad fought with all his might but was still trapped inside the double-walled hood and locking fist mitts. He managed to break free briefly, and Bob and Tom simply left him to his own devices for a moment. He tried to pull off the hood with his hands still caught in the mitts, hoping to see something and get rid of the gag, which I’m sure was now causing him agony. He also repeatedly reached down, sometimes for the steel cage over his penis and testicles, then for his anus, trying to free the plug. But all his attempts seemed so helpless! And they only showed him all the more clearly how defenseless and vulnerable he truly was.

And so, he began to lash out in even more helpless-looking gestures, without hitting anyone. Finally, he collapsed, beaten, frustrated. I think I heard him howl. At that moment, Tom and Bob grabbed him, threw him to the ground, and put him back in chains — hands behind his back, pulled uncomfortably tight up to the neck iron, feet bound with a short chain. They took him to Tom’s car. Doggy walked obediently beside them, still in his straitjacket, off-leash. In Tom’s car — a small van — they put Jad in the trunk, kneeling, his collar pulled upwards, the chastity belt secured with a loop at the bottom so that Jad could barely move and would certainly feel every turn, every acceleration or braking. Doggy went into the passenger seat. Doors closed, a quick goodbye, and the car drove off. Bob and I stayed behind.

“Until you make your decision, it’s just the two of us now, we can focus entirely on each other!” And so the last few days began, just like the days before: breakfast, shower, wash dishes, get dressed. Then a little bit of housework.

After lunch, we went down to the basement, to the cell with the cot. The chains Jad had spent the night in were still hanging from the cot. I suddenly didn’t like the situation at all. I sensed Bob was up to something. And sure enough, Bob forced me onto the cot and, with a few deft movements, had me strapped down there just as helplessly as Jad had been a few hours earlier: arms and legs in the corners of the cot, a collar with two chains attached to the head end, and then, with iron shackles on my upper arms and thighs, he pulled my arms and legs outwards until I was spread as wide as possible and couldn’t move at all.

Unlike Jad, however, I was completely naked. And Bob came in with some new things I didn’t recognize, a whole small trolley full. First, he replaced the plug in my hole with an inflatable one, which he promptly inflated properly. Then he removed the cage over my penis, which had already swollen quite a bit again. Bob fingered my cock until it was completely hard — which happened pretty quickly. I’d been in the cage for too long. I usually jerked off four to six times a day, especially in the morning when I got up. Just the sight of Bob was enough to get me hard, but his fingers on my cock even more so. Bob played with my glans with his fingers until I groaned.

When my penis was nice and stiff, he placed a glass cylinder over it, from which two tubes protruded and a ribbed steel rod protruded in the center. He positioned the cylinder so that the steel rod had already penetrated my urethra slightly and attached the cylinder to my groin harness. He pressed a button on a machine, and I felt suction on my penis. It was drawn into the glass cylinder so that the steel rod penetrated deep into my urethra, painfully but pleasurably.

The suction subsided, my penis slid back, but the suction immediately began again. Bob increased the speed of the machine slightly. The ribbed steel rod stimulated my urethra from the inside. On the outside, the glass cylinder rubbed against my penis, especially my glans. Only the pain in my urethra from the ribbed rod held back the orgasm somewhat, and yet it wasn’t long before the orgasm began to build. I was just beginning to writhe in the chains when the machine stopped. All of a sudden. By itself. Bob stood next to me with his arms crossed and just grinned — he hadn’t touched the machine!

After a short time, it clicked and started up again — on its own. Bob just stood there the whole time, grinning. My cock was immediately being worked again, pleasure and pain coursing through me. After a few minutes, I felt another orgasm coming, and again the machine switched off just before it. Bob was now leaning casually against the wall, watching me with amusement as I sank back onto the table in frustration and jolted awake when the machine started again. The rod felt more and more painful with each stroke; my urethra was already somewhat overstimulated. I had a bad feeling. The whole scene was designed so that Bob would leave me lying there for quite some time. I tugged at my chains, but if even Jad didn’t have a chance, it was even more futile for me. They held me firmly bound to the table; there was no way out. I looked at Bob, pleading, and began to beg him not to leave me there, or at least to switch off the machine. Or let me come! At least ejaculate!

Bob seemed to have been waiting for just this moment. He reached for the trolley, but of course not to turn off the machine. Instead, he brought a muzzle to my face, one with a thick, soft gag attached to the mouth plate. I immediately closed my mouth and rocked my head back and forth so he couldn’t force the gag in. But Bob was already well-practiced at this: He clamped my head with one arm and held the gag tightly against my mouth. With his other hand, he grabbed one of my nipples and squeezed so hard that I cried out. At that moment, he shoved the gag into my mouth. Fastening the straps was no longer a challenge for him, even though I continued to thrash about. The whole thing happened so shockingly quickly and effortlessly. Once again, I was struck by how completely at Bob’s mercy and how easily he could overpower me!

Finally, he secured the head harness to the bed with three chains and pulled them tight until I couldn’t move my head even a millimeter. I howled into the gag, but Bob wouldn’t budge. Now all I could do was stare blankly at the ceiling, at my own reflection. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just make out Bob leaving the cell, but most importantly, I heard the cell door slam shut and be locked from the outside.

I was alone in that awful cell again! And then there was that tight head restraint. That really got to me! I immediately felt unwell again. The machine had already started up again when Bob put the muzzle on me. But I was so distracted and so shocked by the muzzle that my penis went limp. Now I was fighting the panic, but the machine was working on my penis. My urethra hurt, but the suction of the machine was arousing me again. Pain, arousal, and panic. A diabolical mix. And in the mirror, I saw myself lying chained on the table, I saw my stiff penis, my head tightly restrained in its harness, the chains…

The next orgasm was approaching. I tried to stay relaxed. Maybe I could outsmart the machine. Somehow it had to sense when an orgasm was coming. There had to be a way to circumvent it. I knew that my situation would only feel more uncomfortable after an orgasm, but the machine fueled my ambition. Besides, I hoped that Bob would come back if he realized his amazing technique wasn’t working.

But just as orgasm was imminent, the machine switched off again, no matter how hard I tried to stay relaxed. Frustrated, I groaned into the gag and stared at my reflection. I tried several more times to relax enough to reach orgasm, but the machine detected it each time just seconds before I could ejaculate. It got worse every time. The overstimulated urethra, the constant arousal from the glass cylinder. My glans was already overstimulated, too. And then the frustration every time the machine switched off. I was on the verge of tears.

Then I had an idea. I had to find out what signal the machine reacted to! Instead of trying to stay relaxed, I had to try to trigger the signal. If I knew what the signal was, I might be able to control myself more effectively.

So I started simulating all sorts of things I could do just before orgasm. Arching my back, pulling on the chains. Nothing.

I analyzed the situation. What signals could the machine even receive? I thought of the pump plug. Was it using that to measure my pulse? Could it sense my breathing? I tried it, deliberately breathing faster, almost hyperventilating. No reaction.

Then, during the next near-orgasm, I carefully observe what I feel around the plug. I notice that my sphincter muscle is contracting. When the machine starts up again, I actively try to tense my sphincter muscle. The machine stops immediately. AHA!! That’s it!!

With the next few impending orgasms, I try to keep my sphincter relaxed. I can’t! It’s a reflex; I can’t control it. After a few attempts, I sink back in utter frustration. I have to let it happen! I almost cry. I lost count of how many times the machine brought me to the brink of orgasm and then denied me. It must have been around 20 or 30. I’ve been lying here for at least two hours.

My struggle against the machine made it more bearable. I was distracted, focused on something else. Now it’s beaten me. Double frustration! I wanted to lure Bob back into the cell, maybe even get him to give up this vicious game when he sees his machine isn’t working. But it is working shockingly well. Now the panic returns. How long will Bob let me suffer here? He must have watched with pleasure as I fought—and then was beaten by the machine. Now he sees my frustration. It’s obvious to him. He reads even the slightest shifts in my body language. He must have noticed how my tension eased when I realized the machine couldn’t be outsmarted. And he loves it when that frustration surfaces in me, when I give up because I have no choice.

But that’s not enough for him, I know that by now. He wants to see despair! He wants to see me break down. That’s what turns him on. I can picture his cock in front of me, standing out against his shiny sweatpants, as I fight back tears of despair. The machine works tirelessly on, well on its way to driving me exactly there, but it’s still a long and agonizing road ahead, I knew that. And I couldn’t take it anymore. The constant stimulation of my cock, my urethra, all of that was already unbearable, but Bob would make me suffer here for hours.

I realized I had to keep fighting the machine. I couldn’t let it! And then I had this brilliant idea: I couldn’t make the machine make me come, but I knew how to stop it. I tensed my sphincter, and the machine stopped instantly. I could stop this agonizing, constant overstimulation! I was in control – I thought. Silly me…! I thought I could give myself a break. And if I wanted, I could let it stimulate me. I couldn’t have an orgasm, but I could play with the machine. It was still somewhat frustrating, but nowhere near as bad as before. I could prevent the machine from bringing me to the brink of orgasm; I could stop it much earlier. That was much more pleasant!

Bob had to admit that he wasn’t going to drive me to despair like this! I felt triumphant, in my own little world. And sure enough, Bob had noticed. After a while, I heard the door unlock. Bob switched off the machine and positioned himself so I could see him. I don’t know if he could tell from my expression how I felt. Despite the overall difficult situation for me, chained to the bed and further immobilized with the tight head harness, I felt as if I had won and looked confidently into his eyes. I might even have grinned a little under the muzzle.

He stared at me silently — I tried to decipher his expression. Was he angry? He looked somewhat sinister, but there was also a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I knew you were clever. No one’s ever managed that before. Remarkable. I actually wondered if you’d figure out this trick. But sometimes your arrogance just gets you into deeper trouble. But I’ll knock that out of you!” He ruffled my hair, kissed the muzzle, and went to the trolley. The certainty he exuded worried me. What was he planning? I couldn’t watch him go; the head harness held my head firmly on the bed.

I heard Bob rummaging around, then he started working on my balls. He attached something to them, a strap or something, and pulled it tight. Then a click, and the machine started up again. I let it stimulate me for a bit; Bob was now positioned so I could see him clearly. I enjoyed the sight of him for a moment: the firm pectoral muscles beneath the shiny sports shirt, the biceps clearly defined under the sleeve, and the machine working my cock. Confidently, I looked at him, letting the machine arouse me. But I didn’t want him to see the machine bring me to the brink of orgasm again, so I tightened my sphincter, and the machine stopped as planned.

But at the same time, electric shocks shot through my balls! It came as a complete surprise, and at the same time so hard and painful that tears welled up in my eyes. Simultaneously, I instantly lost control of my sphincter, which relaxed, causing the machine to restart. At the same moment, the electric shocks stopped. I understood immediately! Bob still had an even more diabolical plan up his sleeve. Desperately, I stared at Bob, tugged at the chains, begged into my gag. He just grinned as the machine relentlessly drove me toward orgasm. I was terrified of the next electric shock, desperately trying to hold back the orgasm, but it was no use. Just before orgasm, my sphincter reacted, the machine stopped, and the electric shocks began. My penis collapsed, and the machine started again. Only when the machine restarted did the electric shocks stop. Without a break! It was either electric shocks or the machine!

Bob saw the horror in my eyes and laughed. “The real training begins now. The past two hours were just foreplay, a little exercise for you. Now comes the serious part. And this time, you won’t find a way out!” He showed me the small device connected to the plug, which could apparently detect my orgasms just before ejaculation. It was a small box, barely bigger than Bob’s hand. A number was visible on the monitor — 43. “The machine has already denied you 43 orgasms. I think we’ll go to 100. Then I’ll release you!”

I yelped into the gag, screaming as loud as I could, but Bob simply turned around and disappeared. Even before I heard the door lock, I was close to despair. I stared in disbelief at my reflection, lying there helpless. I couldn’t believe how easily Bob had once again pulled the rug out from under me! I was now completely at the machine’s mercy. I avoided any movement, desperate not to trigger the vicious electric shocks! But relentlessly, the machine drove me to the next orgasm, only to cut it short with the harsh jolts and immediately start again. I was completely spent. I had to endure it; there was no way out! At first, I tried to find a way out, but there wasn’t one. And within moments, I was no longer able to think clearly. My entire focus was on my penis. The stimulation, the somehow arousing pain in my urethra, and the constant fear of the electric shocks completely absorbed me.

I quickly reached a point of extreme despair. Normally, Bob would have already freed me or at least comforted me in such a moment, but this time everything was harder. The electric shocks were intense and truly painful, the stimulation had long since become unbearable, and the frustration from the denied orgasms had engulfed my entire body. I no longer had the strength to fight against the chains; all I could do was howl uncontrollably. I had to urinate uncontrollably a few times — I noticed it mainly because of the burning sensation in my urethra. At first, I tried to count. Before I even reached 50, I had lost track. And Bob simply left me there. Was he trying to prove something to me? Did he want to honestly show me — before I had to decide — what my life as his permanent slave would be like? Or was this brainwashing? In any case, at that moment, I knew for sure that I had to leave him — I couldn’t endure such treatment long-term!

But even those thoughts eventually faded, they vanished. Everything was just fog. My mind seemed to melt, all my feelings merged. Pain, fear, lust, despair, everything became one. When Bob suddenly stood beside me, I didn’t know where I was, what was happening. The machine had stopped — I hadn’t even noticed. I looked at Bob wearily through my puffy, tear-filled eyes. Even when he removed the muzzle, I couldn’t say anything. It was as if I had forgotten or unlearned how to speak. I could only look at Bob. His body, his face, was blurry. A comforting warmth washed over me whenever I saw him.

He put the chastity cage back on me, and I barely noticed. He untied the restraints, put me over his shoulder, and carried me upstairs to the bedroom. There, he gently laid me on the bed, still naked, and put a collar, fist mitts, and some light leather ankle cuffs on me, all loosely attached to the bed. Overall, a rather loose restraint compared to other nights. However, he didn’t spare me the plug, which, as always, was a size larger than would be comfortable.

He lay down beside me, covered us with a blanket, and held me tightly in his arms. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I, even though I wasn’t gagged for once. But I snuggled against him. It felt so good again. His closeness was balm to me. My restraints allowed me some freedom of movement, and I snuggled even closer to him, crawling inside him, between his arms and his chest. Bob stroked my head. Tears streamed down my cheeks, whether from despair or relief, I don’t know. I still couldn’t think straight. My emotions had taken over. Completely exhausted, I fell asleep. As I drifted off, I heard Bob murmur softly, “A few weeks of this training will make you completely submissive. My little, obedient, and perpetually horny slave…” But the words only reached me through a thick fog…

Early the next morning, my cock woke me, pressing painfully against the bars of its cage. It was incredibly stiff, much stiffer than my usual morning erection. And the erection wouldn’t subside. I tried to focus on other things, solve math problems in my head — nothing helped, it stayed hard and I stayed horny. I rubbed my mitts against the cage, trying to stimulate myself somehow. All I could think about was how to cum. I was so horny I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I completely forgot that Bob was lying next to me, I was trying so hard to free myself from the cage or at least stimulate myself through it.

Bob eventually woke up without me noticing at first. But suddenly he grabbed my hands and fastened them to the collar. Before I knew how to react, he already had a gag in his hand, put it on me, turned around, and immediately fell back asleep. I had no choice but to lie next to him. My cock was so hard, I could feel the blood throbbing in it. Nevertheless, I managed to doze off again for a little while until Bob finally got up.

My arousal hadn’t subsided. My cock was still pressing painfully against the cage. At the same time, I was still somewhat disturbed by the brutal edging session the day before. The usual routine — showering, washing dishes, putting on a diaper, etc., breakfast, housework — helped me gradually calm down. But the arousal simply wouldn’t go away! While doing the housework, I was chained to the bar on the ceiling in the usual way and loosely restrained with handcuffs and leg irons, but still largely mobile within that radius. The arousal, however, was quite unbearable.

I tried several times to rub my cock, but it was stuck in its cage, over which was the diaper, and over that again the romper suit made of sturdy nylon fabric and the many leather straps with which it was further secured and locked. There were also straps through the crotch that reliably secured the diaper. Nevertheless, I tugged at it, repeatedly trying to pull off the diaper and cage to get to my cock — completely in vain, of course. I couldn’t even get as far as the diaper. And all the rubbing of my bulge didn’t help either — through the diaper and the chastity device, I felt absolutely nothing. I knew that on a rational level, but it didn’t help. I was so aroused that I couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t control myself.

Bob, who was monitoring me via camera, must have noticed that I was neglecting my work because of it, so he repeatedly sent me electric shocks through the electrified chastity cage. These brought me back to my senses for a while, not least because they reminded me that I was being watched. Besides, they were quite painful, and I tried to avoid them. But it usually didn’t last long; after just a few minutes, I became so aroused again that I started rubbing myself.

Every now and then, Bob seemed to enjoy teasing me even more with a pleasant, tingling electric shock. It was almost unbearable. I wanted to throw myself on the floor and rub myself there, but the neck collar, chained to the pole above, held me firmly in a standing position. He kept teasing me, arousing me, and surely watched with amusement through the camera as I desperately rubbed myself against the kitchen cupboard, driven by lust, of course without any release.

It brought back certain memories of the edging session the day before, but without the painful part with the rod or the nasty electric shocks. But even the purely pleasurable version of edging was agonizing. Being constantly aroused with no prospect of relief – it was driving me crazy again!

A nasty surprise came when I peed in my diaper. I’d gotten so used to the diaper by then that I could barely control my bladder anymore. I just peed, no matter the situation, and hardly noticed it — normally. But that day, I was startled awake because the pee burned terribly in my still completely irritated urethra, so intensely that tears welled up in my eyes. After the first experience like that, I tried to control my urine flow, but it kept happening that I absentmindedly peed and then winced in pain. I just hoped that Bob hadn’t planned another session… in his only words the night before, he’d spoken of weeks of training. I’d half heard them in my sleep and wasn’t sure if he’d actually said them or if it was just my imagination.

After lunch, my fears were confirmed: Bob put the muzzle with the heavy gag on me, dragged me back down to the cellar, and chained me to the cot. From the moment he got the muzzle, I screamed, squirmed, and begged, but Bob showed no mercy. “Yesterday it was 100. Today we’re going up to 110!” And with that, he abandoned me to my fate.

The day of decision

That was yesterday. This morning, everything started exactly the same as yesterday, the same routine. After lunch, back down to the basement, onto the cot, the machine was connected. The machine brought me close to orgasm, then stopped, the electric shocks kicked in and denied me from ejaculating. Then the machine started again. After about 10 denied orgasms, Bob pressed a few buttons on the machine. I noticed the effect immediately as the next orgasm approached: the electric shocks still came, but the machine didn’t stop! It just kept running! Only the harsh electric shocks prevented me from having an orgasm.

Bob watched me struggle for a while. He watched how the electric shocks repeatedly suppressed my arousal, preventing orgasm. My urethra burned terribly, being stimulated without pause. And yet, an ever-increasing arousal built up because there were no breaks to bring me down. It was an unbearable mixture of pain and arousal that kept intensifying until I suddenly exploded! It was an incredible orgasm, long, painful, and yet cathartic. Semen spurted and flowed from my penis, burning excruciatingly in my urethra. My entire body was tense, and I collapsed after the orgasm. But I couldn’t savor the moment. The machine kept running! I screamed into the gag. Now I could bear it even less; I needed a break!

My cock had collapsed, but the rod was still inside me, and the piston continued to suck relentlessly. Bob stood at the head of the bed, so I could see him from below. He wore a top made of shiny, dark blue Lycra, skin-tight, of course. From this perspective, his pectoral muscles looked even more powerful as they bulged prominently. Bob then leaned over me, pressing his fleshy chest muscles against my face until I could barely breathe. My head was so tightly fixed to the bed by the head harness that I couldn’t turn it away. I gasped for air, trapped between his massive muscles, while the glass cylinder mercilessly continued to stroke my cock, repeatedly pulling it back onto the ribbed shaft. Bob stroked my defenseless body all the while.

I felt my cock harden again — I couldn’t believe it! So soon after coming? Probably because I hadn’t been allowed to come for a long time by my standards, and possibly also because of the edging sessions. It felt good, but at the same time, I was afraid of another painful orgasm. Yet I couldn’t stop it from slowly building. The stiffer my cock became, the further it slid back onto the steel rod. The pain in my urethra mingled with a growing arousal. Now I also found it arousing again how my head was clamped between Bob’s muscles. Within the limited range of motion my tightly fixed head had, I rubbed my face against his chest, inhaled his scent, and let myself sink into Bob.

The orgasm was very close now, the electric shocks began. They were painfully unsexy, so I came down again. My sphincter relaxed, the shocks stopped. But this only made me more aroused again, so after a short time the shocks started again. This went back and forth a few times, a vicious cycle. Bob lay on top of me the whole time, sometimes rubbing his chest against my face. Every time the shocks started, I instinctively tried to pull my legs together, but I could only move them a few centimeters before the iron cuffs above my knees held them. Bob saw this, bent down low, and stroked the inside of my thighs.

Eventually, so much arousal had built up again that I ejaculated despite the electric shocks. It was another very long orgasm; my overstimulated urethra burned again from the semen, but significantly less came out than the first time. Bob stayed on top of me until the orgasm was over and the electric shocks stopped. The machine continued running.

Finally, he straightened up and kissed my muzzle. “You’ll have to manage the next orgasms on your own. Have fun!” HOW??? I couldn’t believe it, screamed into my gag, but Bob had already turned around and left the cell. I couldn’t imagine that I could come again. My penis had really shriveled up so much that the machine could barely draw it in inside the glass cylinder. I could see it in the mirror above me, how it kept sucking, but my penis hardly moved. Luckily, this meant it wasn’t pulled onto the rod; it was almost like a pause.

Suddenly the door opened again, Bob came in, and positioned himself so I could see him clearly. Without saying a word, he took off his Lycra shirt and stood before me with his bare, muscular, slightly hairy torso. I couldn’t enjoy the sight for long because he threw the shirt over my face, completely covering my head and leaving me unable to see. So engrossed was I, I couldn’t shake it off. Only the sound of him locking the door from the outside told me he was gone again.

It was an arrogant gesture. Did he really think that would turn me on again? The shirt was just lying on my face. It was a little see-through; I could see the blue color. He hadn’t even pulled it smoothly over my face, but just thrown it on, so it wrinkled. I could see the texture of the fabric, the slight sheen. And it smelled like Bob. It reminded me a little of what had just happened when he’d pressed his chest against my face. FUCK. It did turn me on! Pain in my urethra told me my cock was getting hard again. FUCK FUCK!! A short time later, the cycle of approaching orgasm and electric shocks started again, until, accompanied by pain, I reached a third orgasm.

The fourth and fifth took even longer, but to my great surprise, I came twice more, though only drops seemed to come out. Then the oven finally went out; my cock wouldn’t move anymore, and the glass cylinder couldn’t create a proper suction. After a while I heard the door, felt Bob remove the glass cylinder, and then pulled the plug out of my hole. I was relieved. But then I felt him at my hole again, first with lube, then he pushed in a thick plug or dildo. FUCK, it wasn’t over yet.

Finally, he took the shirt away from my face, put it back on, and climbed onto the cot next to me, lying half beside me, half on top of me, and began to caress me. He gently kissed my nipples, sucking on them a little. One hand cupped my empty balls and my limp penis. In the mirror, I couldn’t quite see what was inside me; Bob partially obscured it with his legs. But the dildo seemed to be attached to a rod that led to a small box. On the one hand, I was enjoying Bob’s closeness and tenderness, but on the other hand, the new setup made me a little uneasy. Sure enough, Bob then pressed a remote control, and immediately the dildo slid deeper into my hole. Yes, it was a dildo; it was longer than a plug. But it wasn’t simply straight; it varied in thickness, so that as it was inserted, it felt like several plugs were being inserted one after the other.

The machine pushed the dildo in very slowly, deeper and deeper. Then it pulled it out again. Then in again. A fuck machine. Set to a very slow speed. Bob continued to work on my body, sucking a little harder on my nipples, kissing me, moving down to my thighs, licking them. In the mirror, I saw his powerful body on top of me, his broad back, his strong arms. One hand always held my genitals firmly – not painfully, but securely. The dildo was quite thick at the end, but not as thick as some of the plugs Bob had already stuffed into my hole. The slow in-and-out motion wasn’t exactly pleasant, but bearable. Gradually, though, I could clearly feel it stimulating my prostate, but not enough to make me horny – or so I thought. Bob, however, saw it differently. “Ah, there he is again!” He increased the speed of the machine and began to knead my balls and cock. And indeed, I couldn’t believe it myself, but my penis actually got harder again!

Bob turned the fuck machine up even faster and now focused his attention on my cock, rubbing the head with his fingers until it was completely hard again. The dildo in my hole still moved in and out rather slowly, but it was already quite intense. When my cock was fully hard again, Bob stood up, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him fiddling with the glass cylinder again. I was horrified at first, but then I saw that he had removed the rod or had apparently chosen a different cylinder. That calmed me down a bit, but the cylinder had a slightly different internal mechanism. Bob made a loop around my glans before slipping the cylinder over my cock and securing it at the base. He switched on the machine, which immediately resumed sucking on my cock and stroking it. Then I also felt a tingling sensation on the head of my cock — electricity! But this time, the pleasant kind.

Once everything was switched on, Bob lay down next to me again, almost completely on top of me. He hugged me tightly, caressed me, and snuggled against me. Then there were the machines and the electricity. I could enjoy it all, especially Bob, except perhaps the dildo. But it was now stimulating my prostate so intensely that I could feel it, and it contributed to my arousal. Meanwhile, Bob played with the remote control, which he used to adjust the dildo and the electricity. The dildo went faster, the electricity stronger, Bob’s heavy body on top of me. It was enough to bring on a surprising sixth orgasm.

Bob slowed the dildo down a bit, reduced the current slightly, but the suction remained the same. He continued stroking me, rubbing against me, playing with the controls, until he coaxed my seventh orgasm out of me, a dry one. He finally forced an eighth by increasing the dildo’s speed until I was howling, then turning the current up and playing vigorously with my nipples. He let all the machines run for a few more minutes, then switched them off one by one. “That should be enough for now.” I was so relieved! Bob stayed lying on top of me for a while, cuddling with me. I was completely exhausted and spent, and it felt so good to have Bob so close to me now.

But then a question bothered me: Why all this? Hadn’t he said I wouldn’t be able to have another orgasm until the decision was made? Was he backing out of his plan? Slowly, Bob stood up and began to undo some chains. First, he freed my legs and put the chastity cage back on me, including the strap through my crotch and a plug, which was surprisingly small, or at least seemed that way to me. Over that came a diaper again, and then the romper suit made of the tight nylon fabric with the many straps. Once he had pulled the romper suit up to my hips, he put my feet into the familiar footies with the spikes in the insoles. Only then did he free my hands, put on the top of the romper and the mitts. Lastly, he removed the neck collar.

He brought me to a kneeling position on the bed and removed my head harness, but only to put the Romper suit hood on me. It had openings for the mouth and nostrils and many small holes over the eyes – again the type that allows you to see a little, but severely restricts your field of vision and making it difficult to focus. After he zipped up the hood and the Romper suit on my back, the muzzle came right back on, but before putting it on, he gave me a deep and passionate kiss that made me melt once again. Finally, he fastened all the straps of the romper suit: around my thighs, upper arms, torso, through my crotch, and of course, the collar, securing everything with the small padlocks. He also attached the upper arm straps to a strap on my torso, keeping my elbows tucked in. And he connected the knee straps together, which would severely restrict my ability to walk.

Farewell in the garden

Without another word, he grabbed me and carried me up the stairs and straight into the garden. There, he attached my collar to a long chain, and we lay down together on a blanket. It was early afternoon, and the sun was beautiful. We lay silently side by side for a while, Bob holding me tightly, until he finally took the keys and began to explain the procedure to me, that I had two hours to decide. He pointed to the terrace where my backpack and clothes were — I hadn’t even noticed them because of the limited vision of the hood. Bob’s voice faltered as he spoke.

As far as I could see, he had tears in his eyes. He took off my right mitt, gave me the keys, and hugged me tightly once more. Then he stood up, locked the front door of the house, and disappeared through the garden gate. With the booties and spikes, I couldn’t follow him; it all happened so quickly. I only saw his back, his broad, beautiful back, his neck. Everything happened so fast! He got into his car and was gone! I sat frozen, staring at the keys in my hand, glanced over at my things, looked again for Bob, but only saw his car drive down the road and disappear around the next bend.

So here I sit. Tears well up in my eyes. The last few days have been hard, almost brutal. Even today, at first, how he painfully milked me. The orgasms were pleasurable, no doubt, but accompanied by such pain. But the last ones, when he stayed with me, without the rod and without the nasty electric shocks, those were beautiful. Feeling him on top of me was so amazing. I stare at the keys. It’s so unreal, I still can’t grasp it. I have to decide. But what am I supposed to do?

What shall the boy do? Stay or leave? Leave a comment below.

To be continued…

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Note from the author:

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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X: bondagegimp1

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