Rubber Bondage Prisoner

By MetalbondNYC

Aside from a few minor changes, this story is 95 percent TRUE.

Thursday Night

So he picks me up at the airport wearing full leather.  Skin tight leather jeans, leather cop jacket, boots, gloves.  Keys on the left.  He was totally fucking hot.  We go back to his place, where he made me strip and get into my new rubber body suit, which completely covers me from the neck to wrists to ankles, then he puts me in a posture collar, tall black rubber waders, and bolts a metal band around my waist.

Thick gloves go over my hands, and my wrists are shackled with heavy irons, bolted on.  Gives me a bunch of water to swallow, then locks me in a tiny cell.  Black walls, small platform.  Tells me I if have to piss, I will sit in it until noon the next day.  Then he locks the door, and tells me to have a good night.

I was scared, excited, horny, tired, frustrated but most of all incredibly turned on.  Even though we had only been together a short time, I was definitely into him and felt chemistry between us. This had all happened so fast.  We had met “online” the previous Sunday.  We started chatting about long-term, inescapable bondage, full encasement rubber, piss play, confinement, and isolation.  After about an hour of going back and forth with him online, we really clicked and he invited me to come see him the following weekend for 72 hours of continuous rubber play and bondage.  The deal was, I would be in rubber the entire time I was there, and locked up continuously in some form.  I can’t even begin to tell you how excited, and nervous, I was.  The next day at work, I requested the days off that I would need to spend a long weekend there, and I also checked airfares.  I also wanted to check up on this guy, so I emailed a bondage buddy who is into rubber and also lives in the same town as he does.  Surely they must know each other, I figured, and if not that would mean I should be very cautious with this guy.  Anyway, the next evening after work, my buddy got back to me and told me this guy is safe and sane, but very strict.  That was all I needed, and before my cock got soft again I booked the flight and emailed my future captor.  His reply was simple: “Great, get ready to suffer.”  And a week and a half later, all of this was going through my mind as I was locked in his basement cell, encased in my brand new rubber suit (which I bought the previous week after booking the trip).

It wasn’t long before the need to piss overcame me.  No choice but to piss in the suit.  It took me a minute or two to get it flowing, but once I started it flowed all over inside the suit and then down into my legs.  It was quite an interesting sensation.  Very warm, at least at first.  The only thing was that now I had to live in my own piss for the night.

 

Friday

 

By morning, I had pissed quite a bit into the suit.  Strangely, most of it had collected down my left leg, leaving my right leg somewhat dry by comparison.   Between the excitement of being bound in such a way, and the rubber and bondage, I hadn’t slept much.  During the night, I was hard, but I was unable to get to my cock through the gloves and rubber waders, and I had not gotten off.  Also, at some point during the night one of the clasps on the waders busted off and flew across the cell with a loud ping.  I had imagined my captor laying upstairs in his bed, stretching out comfortably, listening to my chains rattle as I attempted in vain to get comfortable.

He came downstairs and let me out of the cell, telling me he was taking me out to breakfast.  What made me uneasy was that he was not going to let me out of the rubber gear for this.  Instead, he unchained my wrists only long enough to allow me to put on a jacket over the rubber, then he re-manacled me.  I followed him out to his jeep, got in and off we went.  He parked the jeep and we had to walk several blocks to the diner, where he was a regular.  As I sloshed along behind him, I did the best I could to conceal the heavy steel manacles I was wearing by pulling the jacket down over my wrists, but there was nothing I could do about the heavy chain connecting my wrists.  When we got to the diner, he picked out a table right in the front window.  I had to eat my eggs and drink my coffee manacled and rubberized.  The waiter got a chuckle out of the whole thing, and several people who passed by the window did double takes as well.

When we got back to his place, I was finally allowed to get into the shower, and drain the piss out of the waders and suit. After I used the bathroom he had me rinse out the waders and put on some boots.  I was still wearing the rubber suit and gloves.  He brought me back down into his basement dungeon and put me in a rubber hood, with eye, nose and mouth holes, zipping it up the back.  He then hauled out a rubber straitjacket, reinforced with thick, heavy leather straps and metal buckles.  He explained to me that when he had purchased this item, that the original rubber straps had failed, so the straitjacket had been re-engineered with the heavy leather straps to make it extra secure.  By the time he had me encased in the straitjacket, I was rock hard again, and again unable to do anything about it.  He led me back into the cell and had me sit down.  He then straddled me, and allowed me to nibble on his nips and sniff his armpits while his own cock got harder and harder.  Wallowing in his chest was absolutely terrific.  The more excited he was getting, the more difficult my predicament was becoming.  He decided that he liked seeing me in the hood, and told me that the hood would stay on the rest of the weekend.  That meant no more eating at the diner, from now on I would eat like a hooded slave.  After he got off, he told me to sit exactly as I was, to not move and to not make a fucking sound.  He said that when he returned, he expected to find me in the exact same position.  With that he got up, locked the cell door, and left.

 

Friday Afternoon

 

So I was locked in his cell in the dark, straitjacketed, hooded and gagged and had been doing as told, sitting there and not making a sound and not moving.  I sat there for an hour, two hours, three, I have no idea.  But I was quiet and I listened for him to return.  He came back at some point and when he heard me grunting for him told me again to shut the fuck up and stay there, and walked away again.  After another hour or two or three, he came back and let me out of the straitjacket and he let me take a piss.   He then moved me into a tall stand-up cage with heavy iron bars.  This time, he told me he was leaving me for about three hours.  I had to stand in place the whole time, as the cage gave me no room to move.  I could not sit, I could not even turn around it was so small.  I just had to stand there, in my rubber, and wait.  Since my hands were free, I was able to take out my cock and play with it.  I was rock hard, but I dared not beat off, as I figured that was probably forbidden, and I didn’t want to get busted because I feared I might get punished.

When he came back to let me out of the cage, he told me that he was impressed that I had not panicked and called for him.  Apparently he thought I would not be able to take that type of confinement for very long.   I was glad to have pleased him.  But now that was over, and it was time for heavier bondage.  He put me back in the straitjacket, but this time lacing it up extremely tight.  He then added a leather muzzle over the rubber hood and gag I was wearing.  He also had me get back in the waders, but this time he got out a huge roll of duct tape, and he wrapped me in it TIGHTLY up and down my legs and across my chest, then he lifted me (I can’t believe how strong he was!) up onto his floating bondage board.  At this point I was totally encased, and I could not move an inch.  It was difficult.  Very tight.  You see, standing up I was fine, but laying on my back put additional pressure on everything, making my whole predicament more difficult.

He started fucking with me, threatening to leave me there like that.  He also put his armpits in my face and smothered me a little.  And then he got out the poppers.  I am not a poppers guy, in fact I can count on one hand the number of times I have even tried them.  But he made me an offer I could not refuse.  He soaked a rag in poppers and held it in front of my nose.  I resisted, but I had to inhale eventually and when I did I got a huge hit — and I floated away.  It was like an out-of-body experience.  Suddenly all of the anxiety I was feeling disappeared and I was floating.  It was incredible!  And he gave me several more hits over the next hour.

After a while, the poppers got the best of me.  Sensing this, he decided to give me a break, and he let me out of the bondage (except the suit stayed on), fed me and let me use the bathroom, then let me cuddle with him.  It was wonderful.  He treated me so kindly.  After the break and I had calmed down, he brought me back downstairs to his dungeon.  This time, he locked a chain from the ceiling to the metal band around my waist, then he left me, rubbered, booted, gloved and hooded, chained up in his cell for the night.  He told me that tomorrow was going to be a long, hard day of additional bondage training and play.

 

Saturday

 

By Saturday morning I had been completely covered in rubber for about 36 hours nonstop.  After getting me out of the cell, allowing me to use the bathroom (I was allowed to wash up, shave, brush my teeth, etc., but not allowed to remove the suit) and feeding me some breakfast, he took me back downstairs, then put me in heavy bondage again.  First the straitjacket, then the waders.  This time I was blindfolded and then gagged with a rubber bit gag, and a leash was connected to the collar on the SJ.  Then I was moved to another location.  I could not see where I was being taken.  I was told to stand and wait.  I was nervous, apprehensive, and of course excited.  What was going on?  Where was I?  Someone else was there, but who was he?    Eventually I was led again by the leash, this time by the other guy, to another room, and forced to kneel and then get face down on the floor.  I really started to fight and protest when I felt my ankles were being taped together with duct tape.  I was told to shut the fuck up.  Then I was forced to wiggle on my stomach into what I would later find out was a small box built right into a wall.  Once inside, I could hear as the box was bolted closed securely.  There was absolutely no way I could get out of this.  I got on my back, and from the exertion of getting inside and situated it took me a while to catch my breath, so for the first several minutes inside I laid there quietly before exploring the tiny prison.  After calming down a little bit I began to see how much I could move around inside.  Since I could not see, being blindfolded as I was, I had to feel my way around.  I estimated the length of the box at just over six feet.  It was probably three feet deep, maybe four.   I could hear the two of them moving about outside the box, moving things around, and talking.  They were also playing loud music.   I hoped that they would not forget about me inside.

With my feet taped together it was difficult to move around much, so I went to work on escaping from that small part of the bondage.  It took me several minutes of struggle, but eventually I was able to slip one foot out of the duct tape.  But the waders, the straitjacket, the hood, the bit gag and the blindfold, not to mention the rubber suit underneath it all, still had me, not to mention the box itself.  If I had to piss, I was going to have to go right inside the suit.  Eventually I got up enough strength and determination to sit myself up in the box.

Bound as I was, it took a huge amount of effort to do this, and I had to pause several times to rest before I could get myself in an upright position.  I was able to discover that the top or roof of the box was higher in the front than in the back, so I could sit up toward the front but not at the back.  But it didn’t matter anyway, because there was no way I could turn myself around.  I don’t know how long I was in the box, but soon I heard the bolts being removed and the front was opened.  He took off the bit gag, gave me some water and then re-gagged me with the hard plastic ball gag from the day before.  Then he pushed me back inside and I listened with a combination of excitement and dread.  I figured this is what I get for seeking out play with a bondage top who gets extra hard thinking of ways to make life more difficult for me.  I didn’t know how long I was to be confined like this.  The music seemed to be playing over and over, like it was it the same CD on auto-repeat.  I lost track of time.  But I did know that the minutes were turning into hours, and the hours were adding up.  I pissed several times into the suit, only to feel the piss slosh down my legs, up my chest, even into the arms of the straitjacket all the way to my fingers.  It was also hot in the box.  It was slightly more comfortable to sit up, but the air was cooler and more refreshing toward the bottom, so I kept moving from the sitting position to a prone position every so often.  And each time I did, I had to work for it.  Nothing comes easy when you are bound in a rubber straitjacket and waders.  It was totally impossble to get comfortable in there.  And throughout the whole time in the box, I was fighting off panic, that claustrophobic feeling that is just terrifying.  I was OK as long as I stayed awake.  My fear was that I would drift off into sleep, then wake up with a jolt, realize I can’t move or see, then freak out.  As time went by I could hear them less and less.  Had he forgotten about me? Where was he?  The music changed to an album I was familiar with.  Finally, after what had at that point felt like hours (he later told me five), he unbolted the box and allowed me to squirm out.  When he took the gag and blindfold off, we were in a playroom, and he was wearing leather shorts, leather armbands and tall leather boots.  He looked so fucking hot, like a total stud god, and I was never happier to see him.

 

Saturday Evening and Sunday

 

After the intensity of the box, it’s hard to imagine something more difficult, but what came next was another ordeal.  After removing the straitjacket he took me upstairs, then locked me in handcuffs behind my back, forced me to kneel and chained me to the wall behind a set of bars.  Again I was left, being told to shut the fuck up and not make any noise.  And it was hot, and I began to sweat and get thirsty.  I was able to move into a sitting position, but chained as I was every movement took forever and required a great deal of effort.

I of course was thinking about him the whole time.  I was in misery.  I have no idea how long I was kept chained there, several hours perhaps, but I knew I wanted him to come back.  And when he did, I was rewarded by being allowed to suck his cock.

After he was satisfied I was given a short break to use the bathroom and eat something, then I was locked back in the straitjacket.  This time, I was locked with a heavy chain, back to a pole, and for the next several hours I was used for piss target practice.  He pissed on my rubber hooded face, on my straitjacketed chest, all over my rubbered crotch, legs and boots.  I was completely covered in his piss.  The first load he focused mainly at my face, and it was incredibly strong, acrid piss.  The piss got inside the hood, effectively wetting almost my entire face.  It smelled really, really strong.  He even had other guys piss on me.  Some of them focused it at my crotch; others pissed on the rubber straitjacket.  A couple guys went crazy and pissed all over me everywhere.  And one or two focused their piss right at my face.  By the end of the night I had been totally covered head to toe in men’s piss.  That night, when I was locked back into the cell, I smelled like a urinal.

 

Sunday

 

I spent my third night again locked in the rubber suit, rubber gloved hands shackled, and chained to the ceiling in his cell.  When Sunday morning arrived, he came back down to check on me, and then he got this devious look in his eyes.  He picked up a rigid metal bondage device, something I had noticed earlier with dread, and locked me in it, telling me that I was going to spend the whole day in it.  The device was devious, solid metal yet rather lightweight, but rigid.  It had a hole for my neck, and two additional holes for my wrists.  Once it was locked on, my hands were held securely about 18 inches in front of me.  And that is how I spent my last day with him.  He checked on my a few times, allowing me to piss, but he ignored my requests for freedom, and for food.

Life can really suck when you are a rubber bondage prisoner.  I thought about him the whole day, how much fun we had had, how much I enjoyed putting my face in his chest and nibbling on his nipples, and hoping for him to return.

I thought of how hard he got thinking of ways to make life more difficult for me.  At the end of the day he finally released me, and he let me lay down on the bed with him and enjoy his hot stud body.  We talked, and shared fantasies, stories and ideas.  It was a truly memorable weekend, and my heart raced when he invited me back for more.

 

THE END

 

4 thoughts on “Rubber Bondage Prisoner”

  1. I enjoy real-life stories much more than obvious fantasy. Thanks for sharing your real-life situation:-) looking forward to reading about your next weekend with him;-)

  2. Great Story. The box made me squirm. Not sure i would have survived that. The rewards were good. i was right there with you all the way thru it.

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