By Red

I saw the advertisement on the Metalbond blog. Since I had been forced to take a month off from work because of the company’s new vacation policy, I applied. Rather than forfeit my accumulated vacation days, I decided to submit an application for 30 days in heavy chains that the advertisement on Metalbond was offering. I never expected my hastily prepared short essay would win, but I duly received a notice informing me of my being selected for a month of heavy metal prison restraint testing.

After I had signed and returned the “Liability Release and Power of Attorney” for my minimum 30-day test of the long term locking restraint system that the company had designed for slaves while serving their punishment, I received directions with the plane tickets that subsequently arrived.

“I am Red,” I said to the uniformed person waiting at the second level of the short-term car parking at the airport. His response was to pull my hands behind my back and lock them in tight rigid handcuffs. He marched me forcefully to a van where he inserted a large rubber ball in my mouth and locked a canvas hood over my head.

After a long drive we reached what seemed like rough dirt road. The driver backed up to the building and two men roughly took me out of the van and walked me down a long flight of steps in to what must have been a basement. I heard a cell door being opened then a sound like a manhole cover being dragged across the hard, concrete floor.

My old clothes, which I was told would be all that I should wear, were quickly cut off me, leaving me completely naked. I was manacled with very heavy irons around my neck, waist, wrists and ankles, and then a thick rubber mask with an inflatable gag was pulled over my head. A feeding tube was inserted in my left nostril and forced into my stomach.

Two men grabbed me by my armpits and lowered me into a pit in the middle of the cell. The manhole cover was dragged over the entrance to the pit, and it clicked shut. I could hardly move because of the heavy iron manacles I was now wearing, and when I tried standing up a bit I found that the manhole cover was just above my rubber hooded head.

I was told that my first day would start with my being fed via the feeding tube. This would eventually cause me to squat and go to the bathroom. After a second similar “meal” I would be showered and that would also clean the pit but leave me shivering in the cold. The basement temperature was certainly not conducive to rapid air-drying, and I could hardly sleep because of the involuntary shivering of my body.  I tried to warm myself by getting my hands on my increasingly hard dick, but the wrist manacles prevented me from getting my hands anywhere near my throbbing organ.

 

Chapter 2 – I Learn Time Passes Slowly

 

During my first two days of force feedings (or was it three or four days? Since I really had no way to measure time, I guessed it to be two days), nothing changed. My body reacted to the punishment of the heavy manacles by becoming bruised. With every attempt to change my position, I found the restraints had been carefully designed to keep me in a stressed position most of the time. I was so horny, however, that each time I changed positions I tried to wank. The inability to touch my dick even with a fingertip or my thigh made my frustration grow all the more.

The pit was designed for its occupant to sit with his knees and butt against the walls. I could only get my feet flat on the floor if I bent my neck and placed my head against the manhole cover that locked me in the pit. I could not straighten my arms, so my biceps and triceps cramped in protest against my inability to flex them and to ease my aching muscles that resulted from the confined conditions in the pit.

I could feel my muscles cramping from the stress of being held in the confined space for the ever-lengthening hours. I tried to limit my movements, as I thought this caused the manacles on my body to pinch the skin and cause additional bruising under the restraints. I waited until the cramping was almost unbearable before changing to a new position in a vain attempt to relieve the stress and achieve a degree of comfort. But the short chains ensured that there were really no body positions that did not cause stress to some part of my body or bruise my skin.

It was all I could do to take small naps in the hole that had become my home. I was horny and wanted to pleasure myself, but the chains prevented my hands from making any contact with my constantly aroused organ. I found being awake both physically painful and mentally taxing, because I kept remembering that I had signed for a minimum thirty-day punishment. There was no any way that I could get myself out of the pit in my chained and shackled state. If my captors wanted to extend my time here, there was nothing to stop them.

I had completely lost track of time after about the third or fourth day. Each day was the same. Suddenly I would feel my liquid protein being poured down my nostril and my body would flinch in pain in protest to the abuse I could do nothing about.  The abrupt nightly shower was the worst shock of all. I would shiver and try to get some sleep while thinking that perhaps I had signed away my rights forever and would never get free of this restraint testing punishment.

One night I thought I heard one of my keepers commenting to another that the blue pill they were feeding me was really working. At first I did not know what he was talking about, but then I remembered that someone told me that Viagra came in blue pills. My face felt flushed after every feeding, but I had thought that that was due to the tight rubber mask.

I found the rubber mask and gag very frustrating. I didn’t like the fact that I could see nothing and that the heavy mask made hearing very difficult if not impossible. The gag was so large that as I was being fed through my nostril I had an urgent need to get more air to my lungs. I was really claustrophobic and the mask was carefully designed to play on this fear every minute I was wearing it. After being fed with the liquid protein, I had to put my mind in neutral and breathe deeply for about fifteen minutes to get over this crushing fear

 

Chapter 3 – They Raise the Stakes

 

“Well the first test has not served much purpose,” I heard one of my jailers say somewhere above my pit.

“So let’s lift him out and try these,” I heard another voice say, accompanied by the sound of the rattle of steel and chains.

I heard the lock click above my head and the manhole cover over my small pit was removed.

“Stand-up, prisoner,” said a voice. “We have much more testing to do.”

Because of the hood and the gag in my mouth, I could not say anything, but I stood up slowly and found I could now stand up fully.

“Raise your arms in the air.”

I tried to do as ordered, but as the chains were hooked to my collar and waistband I could only raise them up as far as my nipples. I felt something being connected to my wrist cuffs. First my right wrist and then my left wrist were locked to some kind of rigid object. Finally the rod, (for that is what it was), was locked to a ring on my collar.

I was lifted out of the pit, carried across the cell floor and set down against some sort of rigid object. Immediately steel bands were fastened around my thighs. My arms were tied high and my legs were locked against some sort of concrete prison bed.

“We really need to get that pit cleaned up a bit. We have some equipment you get to test and we would not want it to get into that filth.”

I could hear them spraying down the pit with what smelled like some kind of strong soap. They took quite a while, and then I could hear them using another motorized pulley to drop something else into the pit. I knew that whatever they were doing could not be good for me. Then I heard the sound of a blow drier being used to dry the pit.

As soon as the drier was switched on, the guards their attention to me. I could hear them lifting and moving metal and chains. I knew thought that the shackles I was now wearing would soon be replaced with something else to be tested on me.

My wrists were grabbed and a much wider shackle was added to each one. They felt heavier, but I really could not tell as I still had my arms held high. I could not resist their adjustments to my punishment restraints. I tried to protest moan, but I could barely hear myself because of the heavy mask and gag in my mouth. I wished I had not volunteered for the month in these chains.

I really wondered what made me volunteer.

 

Chapter 4 – The Pit Was Now a Horror

 

The guards had swapped all of my gear for wider, heavier gear. This time each chain-to-chain restraint also had a connected bar. I could move my arms and legs a little but far less than I had been able to with the first manacles. I was wearing wide ankle shackles and a tight wide metal belt. Although I could not feel them with my fingers, I am sure every band or belt was an inch thick and close to three inches wide.

They forced me into a hunched over position where I had to squat on my knees and bend at the waist with my head and neck high. My claustrophobia returned when they replaced my gag with one that had a tube that extended about three inches down my throat. I was doing my studied deep breathing when I realized the guards were working on my cock and balls.

They placed a tight ring around my manhood and connected it to loops on the wide steel belt. They connected a flap of metal to the back of this ring and threaded it between my legs to the backside of my wide belt. It was shaped to ride deep in my ass furrow, exposing my rosebud. A curved metal tube was inserted up my urethra. I thought that they were going to insert it all the way to my bladder, but they stopped a little short.

After the tube was inserted and screwed in place to prevent it coming out, they covered my dick with a metal chastity tube. It was small and tight and I knew a hard-on would be impossible. I felt a metal covered rubber tube being screwed to the plug in my piss hole. I had a very bad feeling about this. They connected it to the rubber tube in my throat. The guards were very quiet about what they were doing, and this made it all the more ominous. The games they were now playing were more than simple chain gang control techniques. I was a volunteer who had made a very bad mistake!

It was time for me to be returned to the pit. I was lifted up by the halter of chains that were now in place and was slowly lowered into the hole.

“Wait, I need to position him on the slots,” one of the guards said as I was slowly being lowered. He grabbed my leg and rotated me about a quarter turn as my waist belt reached the top of the pit. There the belt connected with a pair of slots that a post on the belt locked into to make me continue down into the pit to a very specific spot. My neck shackles were rigidly attached to my wrist shackles, and my wrist shackles were rigidly attached to my belt waistband. Each ankle was attached to the waistband to force me to stand on my toes unable to relieve the tension in my calf muscles.

The manhole cover was pulled over the top of the pit and locked with a padlock. All of the time outside of the pit had really made me need to piss. They seemed to have doubled up on the liquids in my early feeding so my bladder was overflowing. Without thinking about the consequences, I let go of a huge stream of piss. It travelled up my new piss pipe into my piss gag.

I was overwhelmed with all the piss, but I was so full I could not stop pissing. I felt like I was drowning in all my piss and the gag kept it in my mouth so I had to recycle every drop. It took a long time to clear my bladder, but before I knew it was again full. I was recycling piss, and it tasted worse with every cycle.

 

To be continued …

 

Metal would like to thank Red for this story, inspired by the Volunteers Needed posting. If you are similarly inspired, send an email! Meanwhile, keep checking back because Red’s ordeal is soon to take a more ominous turn.