By Rbbrstorage

It had seemed to be a simple enough request. It would take an afternoon, and I’d have to be naked in front of a few people, but I jumped at it because it told me that Cal hadn’t entirely lost interest in me after two dates where we still hadn’t had sex.

We’d met online. We seemed to share a common interest in heavy BDSM – he on the top, me on the bottom. And yet, all we had done was have dinner, go for walks, and talk. I went home from the second date convinced that he had no interest in me, and I assumed it was because we were both about the same age – mid-forties. He was handsome and fit, and could easily have picked up any twenty-something bottom on the Internet who interested him. I, apparently, did not interest him.

Or so I had thought. And yet, there I was, on a Saturday afternoon in some industrial park, standing naked and assuming a variety of requested positions, while some sort of laser measuring device swept its beams over my body.

Cal had told me on the first date that he owns some sort of start-up company that makes custom products for people on industrial-scale 3D printers. Parts for antique cars. Replacement architectural details. Machine parts. All sorts of things, apparently. And some client that he kept confidential now wanted to build some sort of medical devices, and he needed an average sort of body as a model.

Average. Well, it was sort of an insult. For a 46 year-old, I’m actually in really good shape. But then, that’s “for a 46 year-old,” I had to remind myself.

Cal stood behind glass in a control room, with two ridiculously hot technicians whose names I didn’t catch because I was too busy noticing their chiseled jawlines, and their taut physiques and rather prominent bulges showing through the tight clothing that each of them was wearing. As I stood in the measuring room, trying to follow Cal’s instructions to stand in various positions, I struggled to avoid looking at all three handsome men, since an erection would turn a routine professional moment into an embarrassment.

But when one of the studs entered the room to make a few adjustments, any hope of a flaccid penis went out the window. He carried three pieces of flat, clear acrylic, about an inch thick, and each about the size of a large picture book. He explained that in order to obtain accurate measurements, they needed to separate my legs from each other, and my arms from my torso, so that the laser could obtain complete measurements of each limb. He then proceeded to lodge a piece of the clear acrylic between each arm and my torso, and the third between my legs. He lifted my cock and balls out of the way, slid the clear acrylic between my thighs, and then sat my junk back onto the top edge of the piece of acrylic. By that time, I was hard, and blushing – not just because I had an erection, but also because my erection is nothing to write home about, unless you were writing home to make fun of its small size. He just smiled, then returned to the control room.

Cal then issued a series of instructions about my posture. Lift my chest. Hold in my gut (ouch). Lift my chin. Roll my shoulders back. Relax my hands. And then, open my mouth as wide as I could without straining the muscles and tilt my head back slightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the laser beams run over my body, measuring every angle.

And so it went for an hour or so. Positions changed. At one point, I had my arms behind my back, with the acrylic sheet separating my arms from my torso. At another, the acrylic sheets were gone and I was standing straight with my arms firmly at my side and my legs together. By the end, I was kneeling on all fours, holding my head up, mouth open. Or course, the sexual nature of some of the positions was not lost on me. But Cal had explained that this had something to do with the need for certain patients with certain injuries to be held in positions that would aid the healing, and so I struggled to avoid thinking sexual thoughts as an unsuccessful means of avoiding an erection.

I wanted to think of the afternoon as a date, but it had felt more like an afternoon of free employment. And once again, Cal made no sexual moves on me. In the end, I went home feeling like an unattractive moron who had just wasted an afternoon.

And then Cal called a few days later. He wanted to see me that weekend. His place. I jumped at the chance for a third date, got a fresh haircut, pressed my favorite pants, and showed up a few minutes early. His place was quite nice, quite large, and fairly secluded. Clearly his business was doing well. But when I walked in, hoping for a welcoming kiss, and maybe some pre-dinner making out, he greeted me with an excited handshake, telling me that one of the products that I had helped them design was ready for a try-out. My heart sank. I had been hoping for sex, and he just wanted to see if some medical device would fit properly. I considered turning around and leaving, but my curiosity got the better of me.

I followed Cal into the living room to see, much to my surprise, the two hunks from the measuring session, one of whom was holding something that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie. It looked like it was some sort of exoskeleton made out of aluminum, and it had a beauty to it in its smooth lines and body-hugging design. But exactly how it worked was still lost on me.

“You remember Brendan and Brandon.” Brendan. Brandon. That was why I hadn’t remembered. They were interchangeable. “Strip, and we’ll get this on you.”

Any hopes of avoiding an erection were lost, yet again, but since being naked and erect in front of these two men was not a new situation, I complied.

“Bend over and pull your ass cheeks apart.”

I hadn’t expected such a command, even though I had already noticed Brandon pulling on a latex glove and spreading lube on his fingers.

“The only way to get this on you is to start by impaling you on the dildo.”

I looked over more closely at the contraption that Brendon was holding. Some of the parts were hinged and would eventually be closed over my body, but I could still get an idea of how the installed device would appear – and it was as I looked more closely that I noticed the dildo that was solidly affixed to the contraption.

Imagine a thong, made out of aluminum, except that there is a dildo attached to the ass strap, and a chastity cage built into the crotch. Then attach it seamlessly to an aluminum corset that ends just below the nipples on the front, but continues up the back where it connects to a wide aluminum posture collar – while the posture collar on the front spreads over the chin and becomes an open mouth gag that turns the bottom half of the face into a curved expanse of metal that opens to a gaping maw. Finally, on the back of the corset portion were tubes to hold my biceps beside my ribcage, while another pair of tubes and metal fist mitts would hold my forearms and hands against the corset pointed down towards my crotch. Then imagine the entire device as a single, unified piece, flawlessly designed with flowing, organic lines. I could feel my cock jump as I imagined what it was going to feel like with the device locked in place.

“Do I need to tell you a second time?”

“No, Sir.” The “Sir” part came out without a thought, as I bent over and spread my ass cheeks. Brandon spread cold lubricant around my hole and inserted a few fingers until he considered me ready. Then both of the studs slowly lowered the cold metal contraption against my back, and pushed it upwards until the attached dildo was pushing into my hole. Once it was inserted a couple of inches, Cal told me to stand straight so that he could insert my junk into the chastity device. Because the “thong” portion of the device was a solid piece, it meant that he would need to squeeze my cock and balls against my body until they would slide into the confining cup, while Brendan and Brandon would continue to impale me on the dildo. But since I was quite hard, Cal first applied an ice pack to my cock until it had shrunk to its usual, miniscule size.

Eventually, my genitals slid into the cup, and managed to find the right shape inside, with my balls falling into the cup-shaped receptacle for them, while my dick slid into a very short tube – essentially no larger than the head of my cock once it was hard – which it quickly was trying to be, once again, but with far less success.

With my genitals inserted inside their confined space, the studs were able to impale me onto the last two inches of the dildo. I groaned as it filled me inside, but also because at the same time I could feel the cold metallic back of the corset and posture collar fitting perfectly against my back and neck.

Cal closed the front portion of the corset section over my stomach and Brendon immediately inserted a screwdriver into several small holes along the edge where the front and back met, sealing them together in a matter of seconds, followed by two small screws sealing the front of the “thong” against the front of the “corset.” Within moments, my torso, from my asshole to my nipples, was sealed in a rigid piece of steel that had been custom designed to fit every inch of my body perfectly. If I didn’t try to move, it felt like I was wearing something made out of fabric, because it fit so perfectly. But if I tried to move the slightest amount, its complete rigidity was instantly clear. Unlike other metal restraints I had worn in the past, held closed by a lock through two holes, this device had no play. There were no moving parts to pinch the skin or create the impression of a weakness. Rather, with the hidden screws turned and locked, it had become a single piece of metal from my asshole to my nipples.

While Brandon held the device, and me, in place from the back, Cal and Brendon lifted each arm out to the side, and then back, carefully pulling them over two half-tubes that were waiting for my biceps. The other half of each tube was then closed and sealed securing my biceps against the sides of my ribcage, and then my forearms and hands were similarly encased inside steel tubes shaped like long fist mitts than pointed down the side of the corset section towards my crotch. Now there was no movement possible in my arms, and they too seemed to be encased in a single piece of metal that had just increased its scope to include my arms within its confinement.

“Mouth open.”

Brandon pulled my head back against the back of the posture collar section while Cal closed the front piece of the collar.

“Wider.”

I opened my mouth as wide as I possibly could, allowing Cal to insert the open-mouth gag portion of the device into place, and thereby close the posture collar section of the piece. The gag, as with every other square inch of the device, was laser-measured to fit perfectly, and the metal, coated with something soft like silicone, fit my upper and lower teeth without any feeling of pressure, holding my mouth open as wide as it comfortably allowed. I could just see, if I went cross-eyed, that the lower lip of the gag had a small trough – not so big as some piss-gags might have, but big enough that any liquid that came anywhere near my mouth, or sought to escape my mouth, would be drained back inside my mouth and down my throat. A few twists of the screwdriver, and this last piece of the puzzle was securely in place. The combination of the posture collar and the integrated open-mouth gag covering my teeth meant that I could not move my head so much as a hair’s width. It was as though my spine had just been fused into a solid piece, from my head to my pelvis.

I noticed a mirror on the wall across the room, positioned just conveniently enough that I could see myself in the reflection. It was as though some kind of metallic octopus had wrapped itself around my torso, from my mouth to my crotch, leaving only my pecs and nipples visible. Its smooth shape seemed organic, as if it flowed over my body like a blanket of steel.

Cal and the boys immediately began talking about the design, apparently thrilled at the ease with which it had gone on me, without pinching skin, and with each section fitting together perfectly.

“So, as you’ve probably figured out by now, if not long before now, I take advantage of my own company’s assets to build toys of my own. Your measurements will help us test some actual medical devices over the next few months back at the company’s facility, but will also provide me with a fair amount of distraction in my spare time when I’m here at home.”

I liked the sound of that comment, as it suggested that I might be contained in this device on more occasions than just this latest date.

“This device is what I like to think of as one of your mobility devices. It’s the sort of thing you will wear around the house on those occasions when I actually want you to be able to move yourself from room to room. You can walk, and you can blink, but that’s about it, which is just how I like it. Your chest is uncovered not because I’ll ever bother to play with your nipples, but because you need to be able to expand your chest enough to breathe. There are also some interchangeable pieces that we’ve designed that may be used from time to time, though we haven’t printed them out yet. There will be an alternative front piece for the face that extends above the mouth and covers your eyes, ears and the top of your head as well, for those occasions when I either don’t want you to be able to see, or I just don’t want to see your face. There are also interchangeable crotch covers that I’m working on, in case I want access to your genitals – which is only likely if I want to torment them with electricity.”

“The dildo that’s in your ass – you might have noticed – is inside a tube. We can remove the dildo, leaving a four-inch tube inside your ass, if we want to clean you out, or pour something inside you.”

“The device is made from a composite used in the manufacture of certain airplane parts, meaning that it is very light, and as strong as steel. It will stay on your body as long as I decide it stays on your body.”

“Of course, you have some say in the matter. If you decide that this is our last date, that will be your choice. But I have a feeling that this is just the sort of life you’ve been dreaming of. You see, I’ve learned over the past few years, that I’m not really the type who can fall in love, marry a guy and live in the suburbs. Nor do I want to restrain some twink who hasn’t figured out who he is. No, what I want is to find someone I think I could fall in love with, if I were that kind of guy, and then turn him into my bondage slave. Our nights of sharing romantic dinners are behind us. I’ve gotten to know you just well enough to realize that it would be quite easy to love you, if I were capable of that emotion. But I’d rather restrain my emotions, and yours, by restraining your body at all times that you’re around me. That means that, if you return, if this proceeds to the kind of relationship I want, you will always be in bondage whenever you are within this house, or anywhere else I might take you. You’ll still have a life outside of the house, if you want it, but whenever you return here, you will be restrained – either like this, with mobility – or with no movement whatsoever – in any of a variety of containment devices that I will design and print.”

The irony that this was “mobility” was not lost on me, but I was so turned on by everything he was describing to me, that it was a notion that was quickly replaced by all of the horny images that passed through my mind.

“We haven’t had sex yet because, this is my idea of sex with a partner. I have no interest in fucking you, largely because I get the sense that you want me to fuck you. It turns me on far more to fill your ass with a dildo securely locked in place and keep you craving my cock inside you than to actually fuck you. What turns me on is to fuck tops who don’t like being fucked. Brandon and Brendon here like to think of themselves as tops, but they also know that part of their job description includes spreading their legs and throwing their ankles in the air whenever I demand it. Of course, whenever I do fuck them, the condom will be emptied into your mouth, or more accurately, whatever funnel or tube leads into your mouth, along with the condom they’ll be putting over their own cock to catch their own cum for you. So, in a sense, you’ll be getting the benefit of me fucking one end or the other, two times over.”

“It also turns me on to objectify a husband or partner to such an extent that I have employees keep him in bondage for me. So, you can presume that most times that you’re placed into a bondage device, it will be by Brandon, Brendon, or both. Sometimes I’ll be watching. Other times I’ll be working at my desk or perhaps falling asleep in my bed, turned on by the knowledge that my employees are taking care of your bondage needs.”

I thought I might cum on the spot, except my chronically confined cock seemed unable to actually complete the near-orgasm that I could feel building inside of me.

“So, I invited you over to dinner, and that’s precisely what’s going to happen. The three of us are going to share a delicious meal that the boys will prepare for me while you’ll be secured against the wall, able to watch us out of the corner of your eye and listen to our conversation. Once we’re finished, the boys will prepare your dinner, which will be poured into your mouth. We haven’t quite decided the ingredients, but I’m thinking of a sort of fruit and vegetable smoothie, except where the main ingredients are piss and cum.” He smiled a beautiful smile. “The dining room is this way.”

He turned and walked across the living room. I hesitated, but then remembered that this was my “mobility” suit, and he was probably expecting me to follow. I took a careful first step, getting a sense of how to maintain my balance while walking in the device, and then followed my new – boyfriend? partner? master? – I had no idea what to call him at this point, but then realized that it didn’t matter, since I couldn’t communicate with anything more than a grunt at the moment. And from the sounds of it, that would be all that would ever pass between us as communication – at least, coming from me.

Is this the sort of relationship I wanted? I had so wanted to kiss him. To cuddle. To fuck. But the similar attraction to BDSM was the whole reason I had agreed to go on a date with him in the first place. Perhaps this was exactly what I wanted – or needed.

And then I realized the implications of his claim that this was my “mobility” suit, and that the rest of the time I would be completely encased in devices that he would manufacture. My imagination began to create such devices, and my dick struggled even more against its steel confines as I imagined what it might be like to be restrained in one of his “containment devices”. If this wasn’t ultimately what I would want, I certainly wasn’t ready to back out now. This was definitely worth a few more dates.

I took a second step, and then a third, following him into the dining room, and into this new life of constant bondage that I had just decided I had no choice but to accept.

 

Metal would like to thank Rbbrstorage for sending this story! Be sure to leave feedback in the comments so that he is motivated to continue this!