By straitjacketkwf2

My mind was reeling. I was trapped inside Dr. Erickson’s private asylum that operated as if it were for the criminally insane. The “treatment” consisted of the use of physical restraint and drugs to modify behavior. I persisted in maintaining my will against the attempts so far to change my belief system, even if I did question aspects of my being. It is true, I had repressed any sexual feelings while I was in school and in my first months as a cop. And now this: being forced to bring back those questions I had asked myself and then so easily dismissed.

What happed to me next is, even now, still painful to recall. As I lay on the jail cell green and shiny vinyl mattress in a canvas straitjacket, which I later learned was a Posey friction buckle jacket, in a diaper and leg cuffs, I realized how vulnerable I was. I heard someone’s heavy footsteps making their way walking down the corridor to our cell; it was Nelson with a meal.

During the entire stay in the asylum the meals were never breakfast, lunch or dinner, just meals. I was never really sure if it were day or night. This was deliberate on the part of the asylum; neither Dave nor I knew how long we had been in this hellhole of a place.

As Nelson approached, Dave turned and faced the back wall of our cell, and the meal trays were placed on the floor and slid under the cell door. After Nelson left, Dave turned back toward me and removed the leg cuffs and helped me to a seated position. He placed the trays on my mattress and proceeded to feed me. He acted as if on automatic, giving me a bite of food, and as I was chewing he fed himself. This meal consisted of breakfast foods: grapefruit sections, cereal with skim milk, scrambled eggs, toast with grape jelly and water. It actually tasted good. It was the first meal since Dave and I had been transferred from the clinic. After we finished, Dave pushed the trays back outside the cell and pulled me to a standing position, undid the crotch strap of the straitjacket, removed the diaper and then forcefully moved me back onto the mattress, then placed me in a reclining position. He replaced my ankles back in the cuffs, once again locking me to the bunk. Much to my horror, he then produced and placed a rubber muzzle over my mouth. I was gagged once again.

What happed next is difficult for me to tell. Dave reached under the bunk and brought out a strange looking device that I later learned is actually sold via the internet. It appeared as a plastic tube with a membrane of rubber on the inside. At one end was a rubber seal and at the other end a tube that led under the bunk. Much to my horror, Dave took my penis and coated it with a jell lubricant. He then placed it at the opening of this tube. A motor clicked on with a low hum, and the device slowly started pulling my penis into the tube. The rubber membrane started moving slowly up and down my shaft, and within moments I had an erection.

Dave jumped back onto his bunk out of my sight, so I do now know what he did. But I started to feel pleasure as the membrane worked up and down my penis with a steady rhythm. I could feel the excitement increasing, slowly at first but growing stronger with each stroke of the machine. I started to relax and wondered why they were doing this, but I did not dwell on those thoughts long. I closed my eyes, and my brain started its own slide show: mental images of Dave, seeing him walking in the day room back at the clinic, with the straitjacket crotch strap between his butt cheeks, outlining them and showing his perfect bubble butt. I opened my eyes trying to shake off these images, then closed them, and the same pictures came back in my mind’s eye.

My body was now alive with feeling I had not felt in a long time. The ends of my nerves started sending out signals to my brain, and my muscles started to contract and relax, my hips started to move up and down, and my arms pulled at the canvas sleeves that held them against my body. My erection was growing stronger and stronger with each slow pulsating rhythm of the membrane. I had never felt anything like this before. I did not want it to end but to just keep me in this constant state of arousal.

Then it started. I could feel the pressure build as my penis was continually massaged. I tried to hold off the coming event as long as I could. And then it happened.

I arched my back, lifted my hips off the mattress, held my breath — and exploded as never before. It seemed as if each contraction of my penis was timed with the up and down motion of the membrane. I soared as each pulse sent wave after wave of pleasure through my entire body. My heart beat rapidly, and my lungs, hampered by the fact that I could only breathe through my nose, struggled to keep up.

The machine slowed and then stopped stroking my penis as the orgasm subsided. My erection slowly faded, and I felt a warm and tingling sensation around my hips and legs that reinforced the feeling of relaxation and satisfaction. All tensions had left my body, and I lay there feeling that wonderful afterglow. My breathing returned to normal, but I continually felt satisfied with each intake of fresh air I could get. And I drifted to sleep.

I do not know how long I slept. It was long enough to have a dream starring Dave. I saw him walking down a long white corridor with nothing on but a jockstrap. I watched his butt cheeks tense and relax as he walked, framed by the white leg straps of the jock. I was enjoying this sight. I could not stop watching his rear. He turned a corner and was disappointed that I had lost sight of him. As I turned the corner he was standing there with that plastic tube in his hand that had given me such pleasure. There was a Cheshire cat smile on his face as he shoved it against my groin, and — suddenly I woke up.

Back in reality the machine had started up again and my erection was returning. I could not believe that it was going to happen again. The pace of the membrane was the same as it moved up and down my shaft. It took longer this time before the fireworks started. And it was almost as intense as the first time. After all, it had been a considerable period of time since I had last jerked off.

Once more the shooting stars faded, to be replaced with that soothing warmth of the large muscles of the upper arms and legs. My mind reveled in the pleasure it was receiving, and I drifted somewhere between awareness and slumber.

I did not fall asleep this time. I was feeling warm inside the straitjacket. The canvas was trapping my sweat from the physical exertion of orgasm, and it caused the material to feel slightly wet and sticky in its unrelenting hug on my arms and torso.

There was a period of time before it started again. Once more my penis saluted to the vibrations of the rubber membrane. I did not want it again so soon; I had not recovered from the previous two sessions. I felt soreness in my muscles, and my penis, while hard, did not rise as strongly as before. But the beat did not stop. And I was reacting mechanically this time. It took a long time before once again I ejaculated.

I was uncomfortable inside the straitjacket as the heat and sweat built up. My body was soaked with sweat that ran down my face and dripped off my legs onto the vinyl mattress. My skin started to stick to the material. The rubber mask over my mouth and face was almost hot with moist heat. My breathing now was becoming more and more difficult.

I looked forward to the machine stopping as I came, but it didn’t stop. My penis hurt now, and the erection was quite weak but after a long time it once again succumbed. And still the machine kept going. I was in agony, unable to stop the inevitable natural reaction.

The torture lasted for three more cycles before the voice of Dr. Erickson came over the loudspeaker, “Dave, follow command three.”

Dave hopped down from his bunk, his face with the same blank stare. He removed the tube from my groin, placed it under the bunk, and put another diaper on me.

Once again, he disappeared from my view on his bunk above me. Every muscle in my body hurt, and my penis ached under the diaper. My sweat was cooling on the mattress around my body, and I felt clammy and cold. The canvas of the straitjacket adhered to my skin and felt cool and damp as it pressed against my upper body.

What had started out as pleasure had become a fiendish torture. I fell into an uncomfortable drifting state of sleep without dreams.

I woke up as I heard the cell door open. Dave, his hands cuffed behind his back, was being led away by Johnson. Nurse Reynolds came into the cell, looked at me, then looked at Nelson.

“Get the medication tray from my office and bring it to me now,” he ordered.

As soon as Nelson was gone Reynolds whispered to me, “I don’t know why you are being mistreated, Mr. Swift. I would not have assisted Dr. Erickson if I knew your treatment was going to go this far. I may be able to get you out of here. But I need some time to plan your escape.”

Nelson reappeared with a tray, and Nurse Reynolds unfastened the diaper and, using cotton tips, placed a suave cream over my hurting penis. He proceeded to give me an injection in the buttocks and refastened the diaper.

“That should help you relax,” Reynolds said as he gave the tray back to Nelson. “I will be back to check on you shortly, Mr. Swift.” He left and Nelson locked the cell door.

Had I heard Nurse Reynolds correctly? He would help me escape? I drifted off…

To be continued …