Conversation over dinner mostly covered business and sports. I wouldn’t have had much to offer to either topic, so perhaps it was good that I was restrained at the side of the room in a laser-measured and 3D-printed composite exo-skeleton that kept my body entirely motionless from my crotch to my mouth – my ass impaled by an integrated dildo, and my mouth invaded by the open mouth gag that formed the top of the device and covered my teeth – my torso sealed inside a sheath of composite metal with my arms pinned close at my sides – all of it contained in a single piece of near-seamless, flowing and organic design that perfectly fit my body.
Dinner went on for quite some time, which perhaps was appropriate since this was our third date – my third date with Cal – and yet, he sat at the large dining room table with his two studly assistants, Brandon and Brendon, eating a multi-course meal that smelled fantastic, and drinking after-dinner brandy, while I just watched from the side of the room where my exo-skeleton had been secured to the wall.
Every so often, if I strained my eyes to the right, I could just catch Cal looking over at me with an admiring look. I had a feeling that his admiration had less to do with me, and far more to do with the design of the device he had made at his 3D printing company, and more to do with the idea that he just might have found someone to objectify in heavy encasement bondage in the way he had apparently been fantasizing – which, it turns out, is quite similar to my own fantasies, but from the other side of the bondage spectrum. But since he had explained that his idea of encasing a bondage slave involved finding a man that he could imagine falling in love with, and then ignoring the man most of the time while his assistants took care of the bondage tasks for him, I knew better than to get used to admiring looks from him.
“Boys, get naked. Brandon, on your back on the table.”
They were hardly boys. I would have guessed that Brendan and Brandon were each in their late-twenties – and I still wasn’t entirely sure I had figured out which was which. In less than a minute, Brandon had pushed remaining dishes to the side, had stripped out of his clothes to reveal a flawless body and impressive hard cock, and was lying on his back on the dining room table, with his ass hanging just over the edge, and his ankles high in the air – looking as though the impending fuck was that last thing that he wanted as a self-respecting top. From that point on, I knew that I would be able to tell the two B’s apart. Brandon had a longer cock, while Brendan’s was fatter. Brandon had blond hair and lighter eyes. Brendan had darker eyes that looked like he was constantly up to no good – which, of course, turned me on immensely.
Cal, by contrast, didn’t even take off his suit jacket or loosen his tie. Instead, he opened the front of his pants, lowered them halfway down his thighs, pulled out a beautiful, cut cock, and rolled a condom over it. He threw a condom at Brandon, and another at Brendan.
“Make sure you each blow a load for his dinner. And you,” he directed at Brendan, “get over here and lick my ass while you jack off.”
Within moments, Cal was fucking Brandon while Brendan knelt behind Cal and struggled to keep his tongue up Cal’s thrusting ass, both of them jacking off into condoms while Cal continued to fuck Brandon. My own cock struggled once again against its tight, metal confines, unable to get remotely hard.
The three men came fairly close together, filling their condoms with large loads that I knew would soon be finding their way down my own throat. Brendan rose to his feet, while milking his last drops of cum into his condom, and then disappeared into the kitchen – returning seconds later with a glass blender that already had a mix of fruit and vegetables inside. Cal and the boys each removed their condoms, careful to not lose a drop, and then emptied each condom into the blender. Brendan then held the blender in front of Cal’s crotch while Cal emptied his bladder into it as well. Brendan then turned on the blender and converted the mix of food, cum and piss into a sickly colored smoothie.
He came over to where I was secured at the side of the room, grinned at me with an almost evil grin, and then slowly poured the concoction into the trough-like bottom rim of my open-mouth gag, ensuring that the smoothie ran into my mouth and down my throat as fast as I could swallow. The taste was a bizarre mix of sweet fruit, savory vegetables, and bitter piss. Every so often, I thought I could detect the taste of cum, but mostly it was the piss that overwhelmed the taste. And then, I came. Just like that. I’ve never cum without touching my own cock before. And my cock was completely unable to get hard inside its chastity cage. But everything that had happened over the prior two or three hours, the fucking I had just witnessed in front of me, the smoothie being forcefully poured into my stomach with piss and cum inside, the dildo lodged deep inside my ass, and the realization that this third date was not yet over, was enough to make my cock explode.
Cal noticed. Though I could barely move any muscle more than a hair’s-width, the groaning and squealing that came out of my throat, the straining of my muscles, and the dripping of drops of cum from the drainage hole at the front of the section of the exo-skeleton that covered my crotch, told him that I had just climaxed. He grinned.
“So we both got to have an orgasm on our third date.”
He turned to leave the room, pausing at the door as Brendan poured the last of my dinner into my mouth.
“I’m going to get some work done while you two clean up the kitchen. When you’re done, take him down to the playroom and set him up for a flogging session before we put him into storage for the night.”
Storage. I’d always loved that word, and it made my cock jump within its confines just thinking about what it might entail. Brandon and Brendan proceeded to clean up the dining room and kitchen, both still naked, while I remained in place where they had left me.
But flogging first? Cal had asked me about things like flogging on our second date. I’d tried it once, but wasn’t sure it did anything for me. The guy had just wailed on my back for half an hour, and I had been glad when it had been over. Cal had just smiled and assured me that the guy hadn’t known what he was doing.
It only took the B’s about twenty minutes to clean up the kitchen and wipe all their sweat off the dining room table before they were standing before me, still naked, disconnecting my exo-skeleton from its post on the wall, and leading me across the main floor of the house. I couldn’t exactly look around as I followed them, since my head was completely immobile and tilted slightly upward, but then I hadn’t shown up for the purpose of critiquing Cal’s interior design decisions.
The B’s very carefully led me down a flight of stairs and through a large doorway into a massive “playroom” – or as I would call it, dungeon. Even with my eyes tilted upwards, I could see that the room was filled with bondage equipment. And yet it was nicely wood-paneled, and was well-lit with lights that were apparently on dimmers (I learned as Brandon adjusted the lighting in various parts of the room).
The B’s led me over to the far side of the room and then began to release the screws that held my body cage in place – first removing my arms from their confines, then the front of the posture collar and gag, then the corset portion, and then finally sliding the dildo out of my ass, and my cock and balls out of the chastity cup. I wanted to thank them, I wanted to stretch, and I wanted to touch my junk, but I felt instinctually that I should simply stand still, remain silent, and await their instructions.
They proceeded to strap leather bondage mitts onto my fists, and then stretched my arms out to the side, securing them to two posts. Cuffs on my ankles followed, pulling them to the side. And finally, a leather head harness with a plug gag that filled my mouth. I was almost disappointed that every piece was standard leather, and not some 3D-designed piece made of space-age polymers.
“I’m pleased.” It was Cal. It seems he’d been watching from across the room. “You might have struggled, you might have complained about the bondage or tried to chat up the boys. But you didn’t, and that pleases me … immensely. A bondage slave should accept his bondage in silent submission, as you have demonstrated.”
Cal approached and ran his hand down my back. I shivered slightly from his touch, as my upper back has always been my only erogenous zone where I feel anything in the way of pleasurable feelings.
“So, why a flogging session? You’re probably asking yourself that question. I could have just put you in storage for the night and be done with you, and you probably would have enjoyed that. But your enjoyment is not what this is all about. You told me on one of our dates that your body has almost no physical feeling. That you don’t feel anything pleasurable from a blowjob, or a rim job, or even from fucking. For you, sexual pleasure is the psychological joy of bondage. But I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to show you what your body is capable of feeling – the pleasure it’s capable of feeling – pleasure that will leave you weeping for more. I’m also going to show you the pain your body is capable of feeling and handling, because the elevation of pleasure requires that we push the boundaries of your pain. And then, just when I’ve reduced you to a quivering mess of orgasmic tissue, I’m going to stick you inside a containment device for the night, so that you can lie there – not feeling as though you’re escaping from the world – but fully aware of all the pleasure you’re missing, all because you have this sick need to be securely bound and treated like a silent, immobile object.”
I felt him drape a leather flogger across my back, softly, teasingly.
“The boys aren’t particularly experienced with flogging, so these initial sessions are as much to teach them, as to teach you. Eventually, when you’re down here, hooded and unable to see, you won’t know which of us is administering your treatment unless you can learn to distinguish any differentiation in our styles. I’ll enjoy this flogging tonight. I’ll enjoy showing you the helpless vessel of physical pleasure that you were meant to become. But I’ll enjoy even more sitting upstairs on future evenings knowing that Brandon or Brendan is continuing my work on my behalf.”
And with that, he began to lightly slap the flogger against my back and ass. Rhythmically. Increasing and decreasing the pressure without any distinguishable pattern. Beyond that, I’m not even sure how to describe the hour, or two – no idea how long, really – that unfolded from there. The flogging continued, varied at times with spanking from his bare hands, and at times it seemed to hurt, though at times it was just a sensation of pressure or a light stinging feeling. On my back, my ass, my thighs, my calves, my arms, my chest. But then, between blows of the flogger, he would stop for a moment and run his hand lightly over my back, down to my inner thighs, and I would nearly scream into the gag. He would follow that up by spanking the same area with various levels of intensity, followed by immediate sensual touch with his fingertips. I had never felt sensation like that. It wasn’t ticklish, but it was pleasurable – more pleasurable than any feeling I have ever experienced from my body. My body would involuntary jerk towards his hands, or away from them if the sensation was too strong. But I wanted more. I needed more. I couldn’t imagine not getting more. Suddenly I understood why so much of the male population seems obsessed with getting blowjobs. If the body could be made to feel this good, then I never wanted it to stop.
The rest of Cal’s treatment was a blur to me. The flogger seemed to turn on the nerve endings, and then Cal’s hands played those nerve endings like a musical instrument, eliciting moans, shudders and a few tears from me. He could have proven his point in ten minutes or less. But it went on. And on. And on. By the time he announced that it was time to put me in storage, I was barely able to stand, gasping for breath, and barely aware of anything beyond the sense of touch that had been heightened across my body to an extent I had never dreamed was possible.
“Now you’re ready for a night of storage. Now you’re ready to feel the frustration of an inability to touch your own body, of knowing that nothing but the flat surface of your containment device can touch your skin, and that you’re missing out on pleasures you never dreamed were possible. Now, you’re ready.”
The B’s released the cuffs and mitts from the posts, and held me up when I nearly collapsed to my knees. They secured the mitts together behind my back, and then led me out of the playroom and back up the stairs. With my neck no longer secured inside the posture collar of the exo-skelton, I could look around at Cal’s house as they led me though it, but I had no interest or ability to pay attention to decorating details. It took every ounce of energy I had left just to move one foot in front of the other.
Cal had a large king-sized bed that dominated the bedroom, with massive carved posts on the four corners, and for a brief moment I imagined myself lying in the bed, wrapped in Cal’s arms and luxuriating in high thread-count sheets. But then I noticed the other structure that dominated the other side of the room, and I nearly came on the spot. I think the only simple description for the device would be a “pod.” It stood upright, though it was connected to a frame, and it had the tapered shape of a human body – a little wider than a mummified form, but clearly tapered from feet, to shoulders, then rounded off over the head. It was black and shiny, and though I could see a couple of holes or removable covers, the rest of the pod was a solid mass of containment.
Cal was releasing clasps along one edge of the device as I was led into the room, and then he stood proudly and opened the back of the device to reveal the shape of a body – my body – on the inside of the pod. It was like a cello case, except shaped for a human instead of a cello. There were two small holes in the front half of the pod – one for my genitals to stick through, and a hole for the mouth, with inserts that would cover my teeth, much like the open-mouth gag on the exo-skeleton. Though they weren’t visible to me at the time, there were also two small holes that matched up with my nostrils, which I discovered later.
And in an instant I understood why my initial measuring session had included a series of measurements with pieces of clear acrylic separating my legs by an inch, and my arms from my torso. This pod had similar narrow dividers between my legs, and between my arms and my body. It was still a mummified position, but without the skin touching.
“This is your sleep pod,” Cal announced proudly. “It’s made of two solid pieces that, once closed and sealed, will feel like a single solid piece encasing your body inside, perfectly conforming to every inch of your skin. It’s made of a plastic polymer, but with a series of health and safety issues covered. You can barely see them, but there are thousands of tiny holes in the plastic, each about as wide as a human hair, which will allow your skin to breathe and keep you from overheating inside the pod. There is an open-mouth gag built into the front of the faceplate, though a smaller opening than you had earlier, and one that should be comfortable for sleeping. The pod will be lowered, face down, to approximately a 35-degree angle, which should be an optimal angle for you – though we may need to adjust over time. It should be horizontal enough that you will be able to sleep, but just vertical enough that your sinuses will not clog, and you can expel anything from your mouth in case you throw up your dinner in the middle of the night. It also ensures that you won’t snore and keep me awake. As you can see, the pod is secured on a frame to allow easy movement, and it works in multiple directions. Once the pod is in the sleep position, I can easily turn it over so that you are on your back. You can expect that to happen once or twice during the night, whenever I need to get up to relieve myself, which will, of course, be down your throat. After I’ve relieved myself, you’ll be returned to the face down position so that you can go back to sleep. Tonight, and tonight only, your genitals will be allowed to hang free through the hole that you can see. On any other night, they will be locked in chastity, though with a drainage tube to allow drainage whenever you feel the need. But tonight, I want you to be fully aware of how hard your cock is as your body is secured in complete immobility, and left in storage until I decide it’s time for your removal.”
I looked down to confirm for myself what I could already feel – that my small cock was as hard as it had ever been.
“The edges where the two sides meet are slightly contoured to ensure that we don’t pinch your skin as the pod is closed, though we will be careful each time just in case. Also, there’s a small amount of space added around your stomach so that you’ll be able to breathe without difficulty, allowing your diaphragm to expand as you need it. And, since your health and safety is of primary concern, there is a feature that will allow you to wake us in the event of a medical emergency. Directly under where your right index finger will be secured, we have placed a small, touch-sensitive pad. If you put pressure onto the pad, it will emit a signal to a computer across the room. If the computer receives the SOS signal – three long, three short, and three long – it will emit an alarm to wake us. But, understand, if you use that safety device for anything other than an actual medical emergency, other than something thoroughly life-threatening, it will be the last time you are here in this house. If you are bored, or claustrophobic, or horny, or hungry, and you use that signal, we are done. It is there for one reason only, and that is to ensure that you stay alive so that I can keep you secured in storage like this for many, many years to come.”
I nodded, even though I knew that he expected nothing from me to show an understanding, other than compliance with his instructions.
“Now, the first step in storing you for the night is inserting the dildo – the same as the one you had earlier. In this case, it goes inside you first, and then once you are inserted into the front half of the pod, the dildo will be fixed onto the divider that you can see will run between your legs, so that once it is securely in place you will be impaled into this device, at both ends, much as you were in the exo-skeleton. The tube that forms the outside of the dildo then connects to that exit port you can see on the back half of the pod, so that we can drain you in the morning before your release – assuming you get released.”
He grinned, knowing that the idea of uncertain release would only elevate my horniness as they locked me inside the pod.
“Tonight, I’m here to oversee the process, partly because the whole idea of watching you be entombed inside this creation of mine turns me on to no end. But in future nights, I am less likely to be here, less likely to be watching. After I’ve seen the process once, it will turn me on far more to be sitting at my computer, or be reading in the living room, knowing that the boys are securing you in storage … and to then come to bed and see that the pod has been lowered for the night, with your immobile form securely inside, perhaps already asleep, waiting until I choose to relieve myself down your throat in the middle of the night, and wondering if, or when, I will order your release.”
He smiled broadly and sat on his bed, underscoring that he would spend the night on a wide, comfortable mattress, while I would be stored inside a plastic, body-hugging pod. I felt Brendan remove the leather cuffs from my ankles, while Brandon parted my ass cheeks and inserted another dildo into my ass. Then they moved me over to the pod. I didn’t need any instructions. It was obvious from the way they were handling me that they expected me to lift my feet and step into the perfectly formed spaces that awaited my feet in the front half of the pod. The plastic was cool, but not cold, and I could feel it fitting smoothly against the front of my legs and torso as I eased my hard cock and balls through the hole in the front, and rested my torso against the plastic.
The B’s then removed the fist mitts from my arms, and guided my arms into the spaces beside my torso. My hands, and even my fingers, fit perfectly into spaces that matched them, and it was clear that there would be no possible movement once the other side of the device was locked against them. The removal of the head harness came next, and I willingly opened my mouth and spread my teeth over the inserts that would hold my jaw firmly in place for the night, pushing my face into the faceplate of the pod. The fit was perfect – at least, on the front side of my body. The plastic was smooth, and cool to the touch, and yet, it felt as though it was electrifying my skin. It wasn’t anything to do with the polymer, I quickly realized, but had everything to do with the intense session I had just experienced with Cal in the basement. Every nerve ending was still on fire, still excited, and it increased my awareness of the extent to which every square inch of the front of my body was pressed into perfectly formed plastic polymer that would encase me for many hours to come. The phrase “evil plan” came to mind as I fully understood Cal’s purpose in the flogging. Without it, I might have felt the cool temperature of the polymer, and felt the pressure of the encasement against my skin. But thanks to his session, my entire body seemed to be responding to the feel of the plastic, some nerve endings seeming to feel pleasure, while others seemed to protest the confinement. Bondage had always been a psychological experience for me, but Cal had just turned it into a physical experience beyond anything I had ever imagined it could be.
I could feel one of the B’s secure the dildo to the device, instantly locking me in place, and then heard a simple “good night, boy” as the back half of the pod was slowly closed. I will never forget the sensation I felt for the first time that night as the back half was sealed in place, suddenly covering the back half of my body in the same manner as the front, while also pressing me between the two halves and increasing the feeling of complete encasement. The back half of my body responded as the front half had done, and the sensation of my flogged nerve endings interacting with the total body encasement felt like an orgasm of its own, minus only the explosion of cum. I could hear faintly the sounds of the latches being closed along the edges of the device, eight of them by my count. The finality of each click was profound. There was no way that I could have possibly escaped from the device even before the first latch was closed, and yet each successive click made it feel as though I was doomed to permanent encasement inside the device.
A few second later, I sensed a change in gravity and felt the pod being lowered into sleeping position. Once the movement stopped, I pondered the position for sleeping, and recognized that it was likely an optimal position. I’d always preferred sleeping on my stomach, and the feeling of being suspended in a cocoon of plastic, face down, seemed even more helpless than I expected it would feel if I had been on my back. The only problem with the position was that it excited me to such a degree that I might never fall asleep.
I tested the extent of the confinement by trying to move my arms, my legs, my jaw. But nothing would move. Not a millimeter. Not a hair. As Cal had promised, I could feel my stomach expand slightly against the polymer, allowing easy breathing. But beyond that, there wasn’t a muscle that I could move.
A hand, or foot, or something, brushed against my cock, probably just to make sure I was aware of how hard it was as that moment. I hadn’t needed the reminder. It had been very clear to me that my cock was at the bursting point.
I could feel one of the B’s attach what felt like an external catheter to the head of my dick, and then I could feel or hear nothing – nothing that is, but the feeling of total encasement surrounding a body that was on fire, begging for more caressing of Cal’s flogger and hands, but locked away for a night of deprivation. I knew that the feeling in my skin would undoubtedly fade over the next few minutes, just as the realization that I could no longer see or hear anything would sink in as I lay there, immobile. I knew that the cessation of feeling, from an incredible high, to nothing at all, was exactly the feeling that Cal wanted me to experience as I submitted to his total control, and as I accepted what it would mean to be treated by him as a helpless bondage object.
It was evil, and yet it was perfect. In a few short hours, I had felt more intense bondage than I had ever thought I would get to feel, and had felt more intense physical sensation than I had known was possible. And now, those feelings would fade into nothingness, matching the nothingness of my inability to move, to speak, to see or to hear. All I could do was fade into sleep, while fantasies drifted in and out of my mind, and then to await release – if, or when, Cal would decide to release me. I had already had many third dates in my life, but I fervently hoped that this would turn out to be my last third date, and the beginning of something far more long term.