By JR

Saturday Night

Keith and I went back into the house to get cleaned up. It was late afternoon and I was exhausted, not having been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time in various states of confinement. Keith received a text message from Tyler instructing us both to get some rest before a long evening ahead. He fitted me in a “light” bondage position for a nap, consisting of the blindfold attached once again to my hood, a pair of rubber shorts, and a leather straight jacket. Keith connected a chain from my collar to the bedpost, and laid down with me for a few hours of deep sleep.

I slept well, enjoying the warm cocoon of the leather, barely aware of my erection growing against the tight rubber shorts. Despite the hood and straight jacket, it felt liberating to lay there with no gag, no plug in my ass, and no cage around my dick. As I dozed off, I laughed to myself thinking of what a bondage pig I had become, that this is how freedom now felt, and complete freedom was a distant and not missed memory. I missed David, as it was usually him lying next to me making me feel protected even when I ached and had little freedom of movement. And it was usually David that made me ache. I hoped my hosts were keeping him updated, so he could enjoy my predicaments from afar.

We awoke when Tyler entered the room telling us it was time to get ready to go out. I assumed that getting ready meant changing into something more appropriate for a bar, like jeans and t-shirt. That may have been the case for my Tyler and Keith, but not for me. Tyler released me from all but the hood, even taking off that heavy metal collar for the first time.

He had laid out my attire for evening, starting with a black silicone butt plug that included a bar attached to a cock ring. It was like a trailer hitch in my ass, which fucked me a bit every time I moved and the ring around the base of my dick tugged at it. It made me rock hard, thinking of how I could pound Keith’s ass wearing this as the hitch fucked me. Next came a full rubber body suit, slick black to match the hood. It came down to the ankles and wrists, and zipped up the back.  It was a tight fit, and looked incredible on, showing every muscle of my body.  Tyler added black socks and tall boots.  I am not a boot aficionado and have no idea what they were, but they hugged my calves and felt good.  The laces were neon yellow, a nice touch against the blackness.  Tyler reattached the stainless steel collar, overlapping the top of the body suit where it tucked into the hood.  He fit a heavy duty rubber harness over top of the body suit, buckling the straps tightly around my shoulders and chest, tight enough that I felt the pressure of the straps every time I inhaled.  He fit mitts on my hands and then cuffed them behind my back with the cuffs I fitted the day before in his garage. I then saw him coming at my face with a gag, this time a much smaller penis gag that he assured would be more comfortable for longer wear.  In a moment of bravado – breaking his order to be silent – I attempted to ask Tyler where we were going.

“You don’t learn, do you?” was his only response. “I was going to be nice using this smaller gag, but clearly you need something bigger to keep your faggot mouth shut!” He threw the “comfortable” gag aside and searched in a box for something bigger, returning with an inflatable butterfly gag instead.  This Tyler inserted and buckled behind my head, pumped up a few times with its rubber bulb, and left dangling in front of me.  Finally came the blindfold, strapped on and padlocked behind my head.

For the reminder of the night the blindfold stayed on, so my recollection is from a combination of what I heard (muffled through the hood), what I felt, and what Tyler and Keith told me the next day.

I was left to sit for some time as Tyler and Keith got ready to go out. They led me downstairs and placed me in the cargo area of an SUV. And then we drove. For about an hour I wondered where we were going, hearing the sound of city streets and then the thrum of expansion joints on the highway.  The truck eventually stopped, I heard the hatch open, and I was lifted out and onto my feet.  There was a crowd of voices, the deep voice of a bouncer perhaps, and I was led inside to a warm and loud space.  The music was overwhelming, drowning out any voices.  The deep bass beat was inescapable.  I smelled men, leather, sweat, and beer.  I felt hands groping at me.

My hands were uncuffed, but quickly I felt something around my wrists like thick leather cuffs.  I felt the same at my ankles, as someone lifted each leg and fitted straps around the boots.  Then I felt complete disorientation as several hands lifted me up and laid me down on the ground on my stomach.  I felt clicking noises and then my limbs raised off the ground, slowly, forcing my back into an arch.  I floated up and swayed, and stopped.  I felt another click and a tug at my harness, taking some of the strain off of my back.  And then I felt myself rising further.  All I could do was imagine the scene around me as I swayed in the air, suspended over a crowd.  I eventually I thought I knew my location.  Considering the length of the drive, I narrowed down the city and then recalled what clubs may have had a fetish night and dance floor with a high enough ceiling from which to suspend me.  But I could have been wrong, as distance and time are hard to measure in darkness.  I assumed we traveled north, but we could have headed south.  I wondered whether Tyler planned this far in advance, and if my boyfriend knew.

I wondered how long I could swing there as my arms and legs strained and my back arched uncomfortably.  I thought how visible my erection was clad in tight rubber like a crystal on a horny chandelier.  I swayed and gyrated to drive the plug into my ass, and got lost in the beat of the music.  I sweat and drooled onto the crowd below, wondering how far above them I hovered and whether anyone else was getting a similar treatment around me.  I wondered whether the club was dark, and I was lost and forgotten up in the rafters, or if there was a spotlight on me the whole time.  I felt like a superstar.  The night wore on and the music got deeper, shifting from dance anthems to the dark thrum of an afterhours club.  The bass vibrated the plug in my ass.  I wriggled wildly just to keep blood circulation flowing.  I wondered what Tyler and Keith were up to, probably dancing below me barely remembering that I was suspended up here.

I tried to count time by the number of songs, but they all just blended into endless series of beats.  It felt like hours passed before I was lowered back to the ground.  I expected an applause, but there was no fanfare.  Just more deep bass beats.  I was made to stand, the suspension cuffs removed, and then led off of the dance floor by a hand pulling at my collar.  Wherever I was lead the music got quieter, the bass beats ever present but distant.  I was made to stop.  I felt my wrists brought behind my back and the cuffs were locked on again.  I was pushed forward until I hit a wall, then turned around.  I felt pressure relieved on my gag, and then it was removed.  A glass came to my lips, a beer bottle.  I felt it tip upwards and the contents emptied into my mouth as I guzzled it down.  Another bottle, water this time, completely emptied down my throat.  The gag re-entered my mouth, strapped on, and pumped up more than before.  Then I felt myself pushed back hard on the wall behind me, and felt that it was not a flat wall, but made of bars.  My cuffs banged against the bars confirming my sense of being in a cage or cell.  Some more metallic sounds, and I felt my collar was secured to the cage.  A door slammed shut with a solid metallic bang, as if to prove a point that I was stuck.

I shifted around to gauge the confines of this cell.  I could move side to side a couple of inches.  The depth of the cage was barely more than the length of my boots, which I could shuffle an inch or two before hitting the bars at the front or back.  I focused on my hearing, trying to make out sounds above the music.  My pulse raced and adrenaline overwhelmed me.  Did Tyler place me here or was it someone else?  Does he know where I am now?  I heard some voices, but could not make out anything.  I heard the sound of water flushing, a toilet.  I thought about the smells around me, and confirmed that I was in a bathroom.  I thought why would there be a cage in a bathroom?  Then I felt a warm stream against my leg, and understood.  I was a urinal.  I just stood there getting periodically pissed on.  The beer ran through me and I even pissed on myself.  Periodically I got flushed, a rush of water from above rinsing me off and leaving me cold.  And the bass beats just continued in the distance as one after the other guys pissed on me my like I was a porcelain urinal.  I could barely hear the urine trickling into a drain at my feet.  My legs were tired from the suspension and now standing in this cage.  I found if I crouched slightly I could lean my back on the bars and take some pressure off my feet, without the collar pulling too hard on my neck.  But the moment I did this I heard a voice: “Stand up straight, pig!”  It was not Tyler or Keith.  Was I under the watch of a sadistic restroom attendant?  Heavy footsteps came towards me.  I felt a hand graze by my head, reaching into the cage, more metallic sounds, and then I felt more pressure on my neck.  Whatever freedom of movement I had was effectively eliminated when this attendant shortened the chain.  My collar now held my chin high, relief coming only if I stood on my toes.  He pumped the gag twice more, stretching my jaw against the confines of the hood.  And then he grabbed my nose, cutting off air.  He delivered some speech about me being there for his enjoyment, not mine, and how I was lucky I was locked inside this cage.  I only made out every other word, but definitely got the gist.  Considering my vulnerability, I was inclined to agree it was safer on the inside.  I could not see this guy, but just my mental picture of him scared me into submission.  I remained as still as possible for the rest of my time in this cage, standing on aching legs and resisting the urge to move and make any noise that would invite more attention from the sadistic restroom attendant.

We did not leave until the music stopped, which should have been around 4 AM.  I felt myself getting toweled off, led out of the club, and lifted back into the SUV.  The gag finally came out.  We rode the hour or so back to Tyler’s and pulled into the garage.  I knew we were parked next to my car, where I pulled into the garage Friday afternoon.  It was Sunday morning, time for our weekend game to end.  It would have been so easy for Tyler to let me free right there, where I could slip into my car and head home.  But of course I was not about to take the initiative on that.

Tyler led me upstairs and helped me out of the cuffs, boots, and rubber suit.  He let me use the restroom and remove the plug from my ass.  The hood, blindfold, and collar remained locked on, though.  “Keith tells me he wants to try one more thing before I let you go.  Judging by your erection, I’m sure you’re up for it.”  My dick always gets me in trouble.  I felt a thud against my chest, hard.  “You two are going to make this disappear while I tie you up.”  I was ordered down on the floor on my hands and knees.  I felt the lube and a thick flexible dildo enter, slowly.  I felt each rib of the shaft going in, filling my ass.  And then I felt more pressure and wiggling as Keith worked the other end inside him.  He pushed back against me until our asses were together.  He was making sounds of pure joy as he pumped against me, fucking us both, panting and thanking Tyler for letting him fuck himself.  I reciprocated, grinding hard against his smooth ass with mine.  I automatically grabbed for my hard dick, stroking it gently as I enjoyed sharing this dildo with Keith.  I was not allowed more than a few strokes before Tyler ordered us to stop and stand up.

We stood up, ass to ass, keeping the dildo buried between us, until we were back to back.  Tyler pulled my arms back until they were in front of Keith’s stomach, and I felt rope wrapped carefully around each wrist.  He then did the same to Keith, overlapping his right arm over my left arm and his left arm under my right arm.  I felt Tyler securing Keith’s wrists in front of my stomach.  He then started at our ankles, wrapping Keith’s left ankle to my right, and my left to his right.  Tyler worked his way up and down the rest of our bodies, expertly securing our thighs, chests, and necks together until we were immovable.  Every time Keith inhaled I felt the ropes tighten around my chest.  Our breathing got in sync.  He wrapped my balls in more rope and I felt lines go between my legs, presumably to Keith’s balls as well.  My dick throbbed.  It was the only part of my body that I could move.

“Alright boys.  If you can get out in a 30 minutes, you can go home.”

We struggled.  There was no way to get free without first untying the rope at our wrists.  We sweat, making me fear that wet rope would be even harder to release.  Every time Keith bucked the dildo in my ass stimulated my prostate.  It made my knees weak.  I was dizzy and disoriented.  Having no sight, I easily lost balance, nearly pulling us both to the ground.  Keith kept telling me he almost got free, but then he would just strain his hands and dig into my stomach, and still be stuck.  I got nowhere with my wrists.  There was no slack, no loose end, nothing to grab at to even make an attempt at release.  The only thing I was accomplishing was pushing Keith’s hot body against mine, which was its own reward, but not helping the situation.  Well before the half hour passed, I had given up on getting my wrists free.  My heart raced, I was dehydrated, and I was certain that all of my struggling was in vein.  Keith never gave up, but by the time Tyler returned, we were no freer than when he left.  We were just a sweaty worn out mess of two defeated bodies under a mile of rope with two well-used impaled asses and throbbing helpless dicks.

“Wow, that’s as far as you got?  You guys clearly didn’t want to get free, did you?”  I shook my head vigorously yes.  I wanted to get free, but I knew Tyler never expected we would.  “I even took my time making us a nice breakfast, expecting you to come down and join me.  Guess you’re not hungry.”  I was hungry, starving.  I was thirsty and my balls ached and my dick would not go soft.

I dared not speak, but Keith was not so meek.  “We give up,” he told Tyler.

“That’s too bad.  Now I’ve got to think of way to punish two sorry quitters.”  Fuck.  I thought I was already being punished.  He came over and worked on the rope a bit, giving us a little slack.  “Try another twenty minutes.  You’d better get free this time.”

We did.  With a little help, release was not so much a challenge as a chore.  We both got our wrists free in a few minutes, then set about the rest of the rope.  Keith, since he was not blindfolded, was careful to coil the rope so we would not get stuck in its knots.  He took his time, and kept the dildo inside us long after we were free enough to remove it.  The feeling of blood rushing into my balls as he released the tight rope was like pins and needles there.  He told me it was a good thing I was blindfolded because I would not want to see how blue they were.  Tyler came back and finally removed the blindfold, then the collar, and finally the hot sweaty rubber hood.  “Forty hours in that thing.  Good job.  How do you feel?”

He was asking me a question.  As in, I was allowed to speak actual words.  It was like I forgot how.  I just smiled and nodded.  I looked around this bedroom, the makeshift dungeon, seeing it clearly for the first time.  The slick rubber sheets, boxes of gear, a few cameras.  It was a nice setup for a quiet preppy guy in a country club.  “I’m good.”

They both laughed.  “Forty hours in bondage and that’s it?  ‘I’m good’?”

“Well, last night was a bit intense.”

“Clean up and come down for some breakfast.  We’ll tell you all about.  I’ll find you some shorts.”

I headed for the bathroom and took a long hot shower, enjoying the water pressure on my sore muscles.  I resisted the urge to jack off right there in the shower, my mind racing through the weekend’s events and my dick raging hard.  I toweled off and came out of the bathroom to get dressed.  I apparently had two choices.  The shorts and t-shirt I wore to Tyler’s house were on the bed, but in the middle he had a second pile and a note: “If you want to hang around today and be our pool boy, here’s your uniform.” Decisions. To head home or have some more fun?  At least there was no hood lying there.  I picked up a rubber collar.  It was innocuous compared to the bulk of stainless steel I wore earlier, and it did not lock.  I strapped it around my neck.  There was an orange rubber harness there, with 2” wide straps over the shoulders, four more around the torso, and a slightly thinner strap connecting front to back riveted around a cock ring.  I put it on, secured each buckle, and carefully adjusted the strap that ran up between my ass cheeks to minimize tugging on my sore, full balls.  I thought for a second how nicely that strap in my ass would hold in a butt plug, even though none was laid out for me.  Surely Tyler would not mind if I added one to my uniform.  I rooted around a bit in the boxes around the room and found a suitable stainless steel plug, lubed it up, and worked it in before finishing the buckles on the harness.  The last bit was a pair of black rubber briefs.  I could barely fit my erect penis in the pouch.  So dressed, I headed downstairs, with my dick pointed uncomfortably sideways in the tight little briefs.  Precum was already oozing into the rubber.

Tyler did in fact make a nice breakfast.  The fresh juice and French toast were just what I needed.  He looked cute and goofy in just swim briefs and an apron.  Keith was already relaxing in the sun, a glisten of sweat and sunscreen highlighting his muscles, his dick packaged nicely in his red swim suit.  They gave me some details of the previous night while we sat by the pool enjoying the food.  I was correct about our destination.  It was packed, with a hundred or more guys dancing under me.  I missed the flogging demonstrations in the side room and the muscle boy dancers in cages around the dance floor.  I missed Keith taking his turn dancing in one of the cages.  (Damn!)  They said I was lucky they saved me from the sadistic restroom attendant, who wanted to suspend me in the cage so people would piss on my face.  And I slept like a baby on the way home.  Tyler told me that he gave David a login for his camera system, and he was in fact enjoying the show, which went exactly how they planned.

As the pool boy, I hung around with Tyler, Keith, and two other friends who later joined.  I made some frozen drinks at the pool bar, liberally applied their sunscreen, and fetched towels.  Commands started out like, “Hey pool boy, bring me a beer.”  But a few beers and margaritas in, it was more like “Hey faggot, get over here and suck my dick.”  I relaxed a bit, trying to stay out of the sun to avoid strange tan lines from the harness and collar.

It was a nice change from the rest of the weekend, if a bit boring by comparison.  Frankly, I wanted a little more action – or abuse – before Sunday Fun Day came to an end.  I took stock of the new guests, sitting around in the pool with me.  One was handsome, in his 40s, and filling out his square cut swim shorts nicely.  He was playful, pulling my face down onto his tight abs to lick up a bit of the frozen margarita I spilled when serving him earlier.  The other guy was younger, late 20s and fit.  He was solid, more of a gym rat than runner.  He seemed uptight at first, but loosened up after a drink.  He had on “straight guy” board shorts and talked about his gay soccer league a lot. When he asked for a third beer, I told him I would only get it if he lost the shorts. He demurred, said he would get his own beer.  But Tyler joined in, saying, “The pool boy’s right, and I insist.”  And to me, “Why don’t you take Mike upstairs and find him something that shows off that body?”

Mike was keen to follow.  As we entered the house, Tyler called out.  “Mike, the pool boy’s getting a bit cocky.  How about you get him under control?”  Under control buy a muscular soccer player?  My heart pounded, blood flowing right to my dick.  Yes, please.

Upstairs we headed into Tyler’s room, searching in his dresser drawers for a swimsuit for Mike.  I turned around and Mike had already lost his shorts, standing there in a jockstrap he had on underneath his shorts, his big dick protruding out of the pouch.  He was already semi erect, and lost all traces of modesty I observed by the pool.  I was a bit in awe, stammering bit, “Um, you prefer a square cut or more of a Speedo?”

“I prefer you to shut the fuck up and come suck my dick.”

“Yes sir.” I quickly responded, approached, and got on my knees as Mike leaned back on the edge of the bed.  I pulled down the front of his jock to reveal a hard cut dick made throbbing by a thick metal cock ring, and a thicker stainless weight around his balls.  I immediately swallowed his dick, feeling it growing inside my mouth as I worked up and down with my tongue.  As it grew to full size, I pulled back.  This was a lot to take.  Mike grabbed my head hard and pulled my face down burying his cock deep in my throat.  I raised my hands to his hips, instinctively to push back and avoid gagging.

“Hands behind your back, bitch!”

I was nearly choking, and not following his order, as he held my head tight and pulsed in my face.  “You like to fucking resist, don’t you?”  I tried to shake my head no.  “That’s ’cause you want me to lock you up so you can’t resist, right?”  He was right.  He knew it, everyone at the pool knew it, I knew it, fuck, the plug in my ass knew it.  This weekend fed into my every bondage craving, and all I could do was indulge further and further like a greedy addict chasing a high with ever increasing dosage of my drug of choice, inescapable sensory-depriving bondage and torture.  I shook my impaled face up and down, making Mike’s stretched balls and weight slap against my chin.

Mike pushed me off of him, then reached down to pick me up by the harness.  I winced as the strap up my ass pushed the stainless plug deeper inside me.  He pulled me along to the other bedroom, the dark toy and gear filled dungeon.

“You looked good last night, swaying and dripping sweat on the crowd.  How did you like that?”

I didn’t know Mike was there last night.  “It was fucking hot.  Never done anything quite like that before.”

“No?  How about getting pissed on in the cage?  You’ve done that before I bet.”

I nodded and added jokingly, “Was that your piss I felt?”

“More than once.”

We were in the dungeon now, me standing against the wall and Mike searching around the room, naked with his hard dick and weighted balls bobbing in front of him.  I could not tell if he had been in there before or not.  I asked what he was looking for.

“First off, something to shut you up.  Tyler has this awesome gag that will totally fill your faggot mouth.”

“I know which one you mean, and that thing is not going back in my mouth.  My jaw is still sore.”

“I’m sorry, are you the one calling the shots here Pool Boy?”

“No Sir.”

He kept looking in the bin of gags, and passed on the monster, pulling out a chomp gag instead.  It looked like a bite guard, but with a strap to hold it in.

“Since you’re going to be wearing it a while, you can have something more comfy.  But since you complained, let start with this.”  He tossed the gag to me and then found a rubber hood, and tossed that over too.  I fit the hood over my head.  It had a mouth hole only, completely covered my nose and eyes.  I then worked my lips around the gag, bit down, and strapped it on.  As gags go, this was pretty comfortable.  It felt much like a mouth guard I wear when playing soccer, though a bit larger.  A silicone plate in front had a tube through it, restricting breathing as my lips sealed around it and the rubber pressed tight on my nostrils.  Mike then put something else in my hands, which I felt and immediately recognized as a gas mask.

“Since you like rubber so much, pig.  This should fit nicely over that gag.  Put it on.  Now!”

I followed his orders, stretching the gas mask over my head and smoothing down this second layer of rubber.  There was little room between the breathing hole of the gag and the mask, which pressed the gag firm against my lips.  Breathing took some effort between the restricted tube of the gag and the gas mask’s filter.  Mike was definitely getting off on telling me what to do and seeing me follow his orders.  My hands were still free and I was willfully getting myself into gear.  I started to doubt what I was doing.  After a weekend in bondage, I really should have been heading home to rest before work on Monday.  But then, I do work for myself and I could not say no to the hot guy giving me orders.  “Alright, shorts off!”

I removed the shorts, which slid off easily, lubricated by my sweat and precum.  My dick pointed straight out, held tight by the harness’s cock ring.  “Turn around, bend over the bed!”  I did as ordered.  Mike came closer, issuing the next order, “Hands behind your head!”  I clasped my hands firmly against the hood of the gas mask.  I felt his heat behind me.  Then I heard his laugh.  He must have noticed the stainless steel plug in my ass.

“Wow, how long has that been in?”  I mumbled hopelessly into the gag.  “Since this morning?”  I nodded.  “Wanna take it out?”  I nodded.  “Alright, take it out.”  Mike helped by unbuckling the harness.  I reached back and removed the plug and he took it from my hand.  I then felt soft cuffs strapped onto my ankles and wrists.  Each limb was pulled tight and secured, my ankles to the feet of the bed and my wrists stretched forward, keeping me taught in position leaning over the edge of the bed with my ass exposed.

I heard the sound of a paddle cutting through the air before I felt it land on my ass, as I screamed into the gag.  Fuck, that is going to leave a mark.  And before I could recover, again.  And again, a dozen more swats getting progressively harder.  I was shouting and gasping for air.  I thrashed so hard that my left wrist pulled free, and I instinctively reached it behind my back to protect my ass from the abuse.  “I thought you wanted to be locked up?  Why are you trying to get free, pool boy?”  I mumbled a pathetic “sorry sir” into the gag.  “Huh?  I can’t hear you!”  I tried my pathetic sorry sir louder.  “You want me to secure you tighter?”  I shook my head vigorously no.  I wanted out.  “You think I care what you want?”  I shook my head no again, less vigorously this time.  “That’s fucking right.  I don’t care.”   He pulled my arm back up taught and reattached it.  I heard the sound of clicking and chains, as Mike perhaps switched from rope to metal to make certain I would not pull free again.  The sound of the metal, the clicking of locks and knowing how inescapable it is, just make my dick come to life.  With the cock ring of the harness still around the base of my junk, and pressed up against the rubber sheets, still feeling the heat on my ass, I was struggling not to cum.  It would be humiliating to cum, to reveal that the very moment I am most trapped and beaten is what sets me off.  But then the thought of that humiliation did indeed bring me over the edge, and I tensed up and then exploded between my stomach and the rubber covered mattress, letting out a guttural yell and leaving what felt like a massive mess.

“Holy shit!  You just fucking came?!?”  I went limp, breathing heavy, laying in my sticky pool of cum. “Well that was a mistake.  You know what they say?  It’s not bondage until you want out.  And now I am sure you want out.”  I shook my head yes, knowing I had just made it worse on myself. Mike left me there, and after a few minutes I heard him enter the room again with the rest of the party.  There was some discussion about what to do next, and then a consensus.  First, there would be punishment for cumming without permission.  I felt this in the form of a chastity cage fitting on my now soft dick.  It had little spikes inside the tube, which were fine while I was soft but it is so hard for me to stay soft whenever I’m first fitted in chastity.  It was secured over the cock ring, basically trapping me in the harness.  The guys they agreed that this would stay on until my boyfriend returned and decided to remove it, meaning the next day at minimum.

Then I heard Tyler ask me if I’d ever worn a chastity cage with electro built in before.  I had not, and I had certainly not seen any spiked cages with electro before.  They hooked up this cage and started the current flowing and pulsating, as I bucked and jerked with the alternating tingling and shocking sensations, biting down hard on the gag.  They kept me this way for an hour or more as each guy took turns using my ass, enjoying my muscles tense and my ass clenching around their dicks each time the current spiked.  I felt orgasm after orgasm inside me until I was nothing but a leaking repository for their cum.  And when the fourth guy exploded inside me, he plugged my ass and fastened the strap of the harness to hold the plug and loads of cum tightly inside me.  Then I felt this plug pulsing, much stronger than the chastity cage.  I was getting fucked again, the plug pulsating in a pool of cum inside me.

Then Tyler told me it was time to get ready for “tea.” There is one local bar that holds a Sunday afternoon tea dance in our town, and I imagined they were going.  I did not expect to be joining them.  He released my hands from the bed and stood me up, my ankles still spread and attached to legs at the foot of the bed.  The electro devices subsided.  I felt my arms brought behind me, forearms held parallel to each other, and wrists bound together in stiff and wide cuffs, leaving little freedom of arm movement.  My ankles were then released and I was pushed forward onto the bed again.  My legs were lifted up and held close together as I felt fabric sliding over them, stiff but with some stretch.  It felt like jeans.  I was stood up and the tight jeans were pulled up over my muscular thighs, then zipped up, buttoned, and a belt installed around my waist.  The pulsing of the electro devices resumed and I felt two items placed in the back pockets of the jeans.  My feet were lifted one at a time and slipped into socks, then boots, laced snugly up to my calves.  I next felt sharp pain at each of my nipples as clamps were installed, and I felt the weight of a chain connecting them.

They dragged me out of the room by this chain, as I stumbled in the darkness of the hood to follow.  The electro boxes in my back pockets turned me into a walking electro slave, my ass getting “fucked” by the device with each step and my dick pressed hard against the electric spikes in its cage, twitching uncontrollably.  I imagined how this looked underneath the tight jeans.  They continued dragging me through the house to the garage and placed me in a car, then took off for tea.  My biggest fear at this point was not the painful electrified spikes against my dick, not the fatigue of having my arms cuffed tightly behind my back stressing my shoulders, not the unrelenting gag trapped in my mouth, and not even stumbling around in complete blindness.  My true fear was that one of these guys would remove the gas mask and rubber hood below it, putting me on true public display.

We arrived and I was taken out of the car, again led by the chain attached to the clamps tight on my nipples, led across paving and up a couple of steps inside the bar.  I knew where we were, so I could vaguely envision my surroundings from memory, despite the hood.  Typical bar in the middle with seats around, tiny dance floor where no one danced, amateurish DJ booth off to the side, and a fireplace that had no business being in a bar in Florida.  Someone reached in my back pockets.  I felt the elecro program change, staccato bursts of electricity to my dick giving way to long tingling waves, ticklish at first followed by a crescendo that made me lurch forward like I’d been punched in the stomach.  And the plug was amped up, seemingly random spikes and waves that felt amazing and then jarring, making me writhe against my restraints and clamp down hard on the gag.  The programs were not in sync, so sometimes there was light stimulation from the spikes in my dick and a massive thrusting sensation in my ass, and sometimes they were both abusing me at max power at the same time.  The bar was cool, but I was sweating profusely.  I felt wet inside my jeans, the cum and lube leaking out of my ass around the plug, sweat, and precum all mixed together.

I was led around the bar, always by the chain attached to my nipples, wincing in pain every time I stumbled in my blinded state.  I was led somewhere, to the back away from the noise of the small crowd, down a hall perhaps.  I heard a door open and I was pushed through it.  The door slammed shut.  I was pushed down on my knees and picked up and moved until my face hit a wall and my knees came to rest on something padded.  My ankles were locked down and then I felt straps around my torso, keeping me tight against the wall.  Someone removed the gas mask and then the gag, leaving the rubber hood in place.  Deep cool breaths felt amazing after an hour of struggling to breathe through the gag and filter.  But the relief was short lived as a spider gag was strapped into my mouth and my face was pushed against a pad, with a collar around my neck pulling me tight against this pad.  If felt like a thin rubber pillow with a hole in the middle for breathing.  The air I took in tasted stale, like it was coming from a dirty locker room.  I felt another strap around my head, and then another, pressing me tighter against this wall unable to shift side to side or pull away.

I heard heavy booted footsteps walking away.  The door opened again and slammed shut.  I followed the sound of the footsteps leading away, then I faintly heard another door open on the other side of the wall.  The footsteps grew louder, coming towards me.  The sound of a buckle, a zipper, the smell of cock, and then the taste, coming at me through the wall.  Testing the alignment, testing my inability to pull back, thrusting hard in my face, proud of his glory hole contraption.  So proud and aroused that he pounded my face for just a minute or two before sending a thick salty load down my throat.  Then the sound of getting dressed, zipping up, fastening a buckle, and heavy boot steps leading away.  A door opened and I heard loud and clear: “Next!”

I sucked a lot of dick at Tea.  Big dicks, small dicks, cut, uncut, fat like a beer can, and one with a thick piercing that tickled the roof of my mouth.  I hardly noticed when the batteries on the electro devices gave out, first the plug and then the chastity cage.  Keith came and gave me some water through the glory hole.  Tyler came and pissed through it.  The piss overflowed my mouth and dribbled down my face, neck, and chest.  My stomach ached from a dozen loads of cum and no food.  My face went numb. When the gag was released from my face, it took a few minutes to even move my jaw.  The gas mask went back on and I was led back out of the bar just as unceremoniously as I came in.  Back into the car and back to Tyler’s house, where I was finally released from the gas mask, rubber hood, and cuffs.  I removed the plug that had assaulted my ass for hours, but could not take off the chastity cage or the rubber harness, since the cage made it impossible to take off its build-in cock ring.

Tyler returned my car keys and clothes, led me to the garage and dismissed me.  It was about 10 PM Sunday evening and I just wanted to hear my boyfriend’s voice.  I gave David a call while driving, to hear how his weekend went and fill him in on the details of mine.  He told me to get a good night’s sleep, as we would have to roll the dice Monday night since he missed the weekend.

 

The End

 

Metal would like to thank JR for this story!