Written by an anonymous friend of Metalbond

Part 4

“When you’re not being neurotic, imbuing the experience with so much seriousness it seems like a life choice, what’s your favorite type of bondage situation?”

Tim laughed nervously in response to the preface of Jason’s question. He hesitated. “Um … Not sure, I guess.” Tim felt shy talking about the mechanics of bondage in a semi-public setting.

Jason said, “Well, you must have at least one recurring fantasy about gear that you use to jerk off sometimes.”

Tim looked around, hesitating, contemplating whether to reveal that romanticizing his memories of Ross produced his strongest sexual fantasies. “Um … I do love sleepsacks. Being trapped in one overnight, maybe cumming in it early on, then wanting out but knowing I am stuck until the morning. Left to stew in my sweaty prison, then that knowledge would soon get me started again, hard-dicked and struggling, and the pattern would repeat, maybe three or four times, until I either fall asleep or morning comes, and then Ross … err, someone let’s me out. I think that would top the list for me.”

Seated across the table from Tim, Jason spread his legs, repositioning a gym bag sitting next to him as he shifted his crotch forward. “You’re talking straight to my cock, and it’s responding. I like that. Give more details – rubber, leather, what’s on you under that sack, and where in your fantasy do you ‘sleep’ overnight in it?”

Tim felt his face flush. I am talking to GearDom, after all, Tim thought. As he considered how to articulate the reply forming in his mind, Tim studied Jason. The blend of characteristics was breathtaking: inked male muscle, prominent physical size and sexual presence, animalistic purity and a powerful athleticism, hyper-masculine features exaggerated by dark, carefully cropped head and facial hair. Crowned by a paradoxical innocence of smile and vulnerability of expression, on such a handsome face, the combination devastated Tim. The torment of his chastity device transformed into pleasurable pain as Tim stared at Jason’s brown eyes.

Jason said, “Hey, you look like you’re in a daze.”

Tim looked around to see if nearby customers could hear him. When Jason had met Tim on arrival in California, Jason had taken Tim here, to a secluded booth in an airport restaurant. Tim assumed Jason sensed his disappointment (where is Ross?) and uncertainty (I don’t really know you) and had chosen this as a place where they could talk. A half hour later, after food for Jason, some juice for Tim, and some light conversation, Tim definitely was more relaxed.

Tim continued, talking quietly. “I’m inside a thick rubber sleepsack, zipped and strapped, naked underneath except for a plug locked in place. It’s extremely tight and restrictive. Internal sleeves immobilize both arms at my sides. Strict external straps reinforce the tightness and escape-proof seal. I have a tight rubber hood with eyeholes. Though in real life it’s not safe to be left gagged overnight, in my fantasy there is a large, uncomfortable ball gag pushed deep into my mouth by a head harness under the hood. There are multiple chains fastened to D-rings on the outside of the sack, which give me a limited range to squirm on top of a rubber sheet, covering the mattress of a narrow bondage bed. I see through the hood that the empty room is dark and sense I have been alone, struggling in place to cum again, for hours. Unable to call for help, I wiggle, squeeze, pulse my cock, gasp, sweat, and endure my predicament.” Tim smiled. “Is that enough?”

“I’m aroused. You explain things well. Just like Ross.” Jason smirked. “So, you are in some room by yourself, chained to a bed, left to squirm around in a tight rubber sleepsack all night, hooded and gagged, fucking your ass on a butt plug, cumming over and over, knowing that you won’t get out until morning?”

Tim felt embarrassed. “I might get some sleep too, but you’re right, that’s the gist of it.”

Jason asked, “How would Ross change the details of your overnight fantasy to suit Ross?”

Tim replied, “It would be more difficult and intense and less enjoyable, or even totally unenjoyable, especially as time passed.”

Jason said, “Remember, I like to hear details.”

Tim obliged quickly this time. “Ross would insist on several layers. A rubber suit first, maybe even two, a rubber sleepsack, plus a leather sleepsack. He likes leather as the outer layer because rubber is more fragile and can fail, while tight containment in a locked leather sleepsack is pretty inescapable. Ross used to enjoy … I’m not sure of the exact word … the ‘totality’ or ‘comprehensiveness’ of sleepsack bondage, watching the cocooned form and knowing that the slave is in there and can’t do anything to get out of it.” Shifting on his seat, Tim grimaced in pain, but then quickly continued. “The hood would be sightless, and Ross likes uncomfortable posture collars. He always keeps my ass plugged. Most likely I would be catheterized or in chastity or both and unable to cum. I might have to recycle piss all night. I could not count on getting out first thing in the morning. And I would probably be alone, though monitored somehow, with no vision and little hearing, isolated, locked away in a cage somewhere in a basement.”

“Very good,” said Jason. “Now which of those stories made your dick harder?”

Tim felt his face redden self-consciously. “The spikes hurt more during Ross’s version,” Tim admitted.

“So why all the soul searching and doubts about being here?”

Tim paused, considering how to express his complicated thoughts in one or two sentences. “I was going through a long period of trying to take charge instead of trying to be controlled, I guess. You probably know Ross is a control freak. And we shared a perspective that bondage isn’t really bondage until you want out and discover that’s not going to happen on your own timetable.” Tim paused for a few seconds. “I thought that part of my life, giving up control, was in the past. That’s all, I guess.”

“How long have you known Mike?” Jason asked.

Uncertain where Jason was taking the conversation, Tim responded, “Not long. Weeks or a couple months at most.”

Jason asked, “Why didn’t you take charge of him, instead of letting him have the upper hand, topping you, having you keep on a chastity device, dominating you, all with Ross’s long distance help?”

Aware of the head of his cock pulsing against the chastity spikes, Tim stayed silent for a few seconds. With some maneuvering and pulling, he might have been able to slip the silicone device off, and yet he hadn’t tried. “It felt natural, I guess. I know where you’re headed – that all of this is my own doing.” Jason said nothing. Tim asked, “Do I get to ask you questions?”

Jason said, “One or two, and then you need to make a choice. Either I leave you at the airport to find a flight back east, or I take charge and reunite Ross with his pig as planned. It’s totally your decision, but once you decide, it’s final. There will be no opportunity for backtracking and expression of second thoughts.”

Tim asked, “What is your relationship with Ross like? Are you his pig too?”

“We love each other as partners. We have many strong interests that are mutual but not complementary. We enjoy being Doms together. I have experimented being a sub but those days are over. So, I’m not his pig, I’m his partner.”

Tim pressed for more information. “What’s one of your favorite bondage situations?”

Jason responded. “I think you have a good idea of the broad range of fetish activities I like. My online profile tracks other users’ number of visits. We could see you viewed GearDom hundreds of times.”

Tim remained silent. He was hoping for more information, but hesitant to ask. As though reading his thoughts, Jason continued. “In person you seem like a perfect candidate for what I like – long periods of captivity in which you are kept gear-bound at all times. Extended time spent in sleepsacks or in other gear long-term, similar to your fantasies and Ross’s realities. The extended periods would be punctuated by interim trials, more challenging situations. Difficult, sometimes painful, predicament-bondage, to help you appreciate conditions you are expected to tolerate long term. I like very thorough restraint, head to toe. Of course, the human body was not meant to be kept bound and gagged and sealed in rubber all the time. Skin needs to breathe too. You need nourishment, hygiene and exercise to stay fit and healthy, but much of that can be accomplished in rubber and chains.”

Tim tried more questions. “Why isn’t Ross here now? How would I fit in to your partnership?”

“We want a live-in sub for a Dom/sub arrangement. It will help strengthen our bond. We like to play with friends, visitors, and it’s fun, but can also be time consuming and sometimes tricky. A cute muscle sub who loves bondage in heavy gear and long periods of confinement 24/7 would fit the bill. Ross uses the ‘slave’ word when he talks about you, like you’re the embodiment of the mythic bondage slave he always wanted, the pig that got away. He says you were born for it.  And to answer your other question, he’s not here on purpose, for a couple reasons. I think one is that he wanted to give me a chance to assess you on my own.”

Tim blurted out, “I want to stay here for the visit as planned. I’m sure. Final answer. Unless you don’t like what you see.”

Jason laughed. “Okay then, babe.” Assuming a business-like tone, Jason immediately handed the small gym bag to Tim and issued instructions. “Go to one of the restrooms here. There are multiples. Each is private and can be locked. This may be your only chance for a potty break for several hours. Strip off your street clothes. Use the enema kit first. You’ll find lubricant and a nice butt plug attached to a harness. Next, there are rubber socks, gloves, and a catsuit that should fit like a glove. You can cover the suit with your outer clothes if you’d like. There are also motorcycle gloves to conceal your hands. Or, you can walk to my car with the rubber suit showing if you prefer.”

Jason described the airport garage location, color and model of an SUV. “Meet me at my car. It’s at the farthest point possible. The exercise will be good for you. Be efficient and quick.” Jason checked the time on his phone. “I’m leaving the garage in a half hour, with or without you.”

 

* * *

 

Suppressing his panic more than 30 minutes later, Tim walked quickly through the garage. The process Jason described so easily had been a trial to complete in the small restroom, with patrons knocking on the door as Tim rushed. The butt plug had been difficult to insert, requiring Tim to accommodate rippled knobs of graduated size on a long shaft and thick base. Now, the chastity spikes and plug tortured him mercilessly as he hurried. Inside his shoes, latex socks with individual toes squeezed his perspiring feet.

Tim felt a moment of dread. He had taken too long and screwed up somehow. Jason’s car wasn’t where Tim thought it should be. Maybe Jason already left. The garage elevator was slow in coming. Tim found the stairs. A minute or two later, nervous, overheated, and sweating, he jog-waddled the length of one level until he noticed an SUV with tinted glass windows, alone at the corner of a far end, which matched Jason’s description. As Tim studied it, the rear door opened and Jason emerged from the side. Tim walked over as Jason directed him to climb into the back of the car, where he found himself in a cargo area with a metal dog crate. Jason closed Tim inside the car and immediately appeared in the driver seat. He turned around and began issuing instructions.

“Strip down to your rubber and put your clothes in the bag.” As Tim complied, he noticed that Jason selected leather straps from a collection of items on the front passenger seat.

“Good. Now get between me and the crate, face toward the rear, kneel back to me, and put your hands behind your back, palms together and fingers intertwined.”

Tim felt leather straps buckled around his palms, wrists, forearms, elbows and biceps, drawing his arms uncomfortably close. As he wiggled his arms a bit, testing the restraints, he felt Jason make readjustments, tightening straps and fastening padlocks in place. Stimulated by the restriction and the notion of Jason as the Top administering restraints, Tim struggled and turned his head, but quickly withdrew as a slap and Jason’s clipped tone commanded him to be silent. “Stop wiggling and keep quiet! Now face backward, stay still, and cooperate. That’s good, babe.”

Tim liked the sound of Jason addressing him as “babe.” Staring at the dog crate, Tim heard behind him the sounds of leather and metal being arranged. Tim noted that the crate appeared formed of solid aluminum sheets and sturdy metal hinges. The top and front were both open. Ventilation holes were apparent, and the front door included a small window with bars. As Tim contemplated the crate and his fate, he felt Jason pull material over his rubber-gloved hands and pull it up his bound arms, enclosing them. Through his rubber catsuit and on top of the leather straps, Tim noticed the tightness and thickness as Jason worked the device upward to complete the enclosure. While Jason finished knotting laces, Tim squirmed involuntarily, riding his butt plug in reluctant excitement as Jason forced his hands and arms closer together. A nasty smack on Tim’s ass from Jason reminded him to keep still.

Next Tim felt Jason zipping a flap closed over the laces of the armbinder, completely covering them, followed by a padlock on the zipper at the top. Additional straps around Tim’s arms extended through loops on the outside of the single sleeve binder. Straps in a harness arrangement circled around the top, crossed over his shoulders, secured around his chest, bound Tim’s enclosed hands to his waist, and extended though his crotch. A wrist strap over the binder seemed to isolate Tim’s hands, clenched together within the small pouch of the single mitt. When Tim thought Jason had finally finished, Jason pushed Tim forward for access to the finishing touch on the armbinder, lacing a connection between a crotch strap and Tim’s bound wrists.

Tim heard Jason comment, “Very nice, babe. You’re pretty flexible, a good thing or this might be even more uncomfortable, given your athletic physique and big biceps.  Straighten your back now, head up.”

Tim grunted. Though dying to emote over the sexual thrill of the tight armbinder, Tim obediently sat up, remaining still and quiet at Jason’s command. Tim blinked, closing his eyes temporarily to shield them as a rubber hood descended. Using one hand to press the outer surface over Tim’s face and the other to push Tim’s head forward, Jason guided the hood into place and forced an open gag through Tim’s lips. With his arms restrained so tightly behind him, Tim felt helpless to resist Jason’s use of strength, tugging and pulling roughly at the hood while Tim strained to stay in balance. The squeezing sensation and tightening seal took Tim’s breath away as Jason achieved closure using what felt like a very sturdy zipper.

Gasping air through his mouth, Tim noticed that there were also nose holes for breathing. An uncomfortable internal gag held Tim’s mouth in an open position. Through clear plastic eyes sealed into the hood, Tim viewed a black rubber rim below his nose. He realized that he was locked in a latex urinal hood.

Though the hood diminished his hearing, Tim heard Jason say, “That would have been easier for me if your head were completely shaved.” Instinctively raising his chin to accommodate Jason, Tim felt Jason secure a wide collar that encircled Tim’s neck, further sealing the hood and hindering movement of his head. A tugging sensation and application of pressure confirmed closure of a padlock on the buckle of the thick collar.

Tim felt Jason nudge him, pushing him forward. “Crawl on your knees over to your portable prison and turn around. Chop chop!” Awkward inches and a difficult minute later, Tim had achieved the goal. “Move your body to one side, angle your legs and knees, that’s right, and transfer your weight to your butt. Perfect! You should be able to scooch backward on your butt, carefully, yes, your shoulders touch the back of the crate. There you go.”

Seconds later, clutching more gear, Jason maneuvered between the passenger and driver’s seat to join Tim in the cargo area. Still excited and willing though noticeably uncomfortable, Tim helpfully strained and postured, allowing Jason to resume Tim’s restraint. With Tim in a sitting position, knees bent and arms tightly bound behind, thick straps were tightened at multiple points, joining Tim’s muscular, rubber-encased legs together securely at mid-hip, above and below the knees, and at his calves. An ankle restraint included an attached harness to bind Tim’s rubber-socked feet, facilitated by the individual toes of Tim’s latex socks. The foot harness fastened with multiple straps. One at arch level united Tim’s feet tightly at mid-foot, where it was intersected by a connecting strap for another that encircled Tim’s big toes, joining them together. The toe strap connected to still another strap, extending under Tim’s feet and threading through the arch and ankle straps, all of which Jason firmly buckled.

Taut nylon rope anchored Tim to the floor of the front of the crate through D rings in the ankle restraint. More rope threaded under Tim to create tension between feet and wrists. Additional pieces secured Tim between head and knees and at the top rear of the crate via large D rings on the front and back of his posture collar. Through ventilation holes on opposite sides of the crate, Jason inserted a thin metal rod under Tim’s knees.

Hanging from one side of the crate, a hinged metal plate was lifted and lowered by Jason, to close off the top. Next Jason maneuvered the front panel, closed Tim in, and snapped metal latches. The roof grazed Tim’s head, his shoulders butted up against the sides and back, and his pointed toes touched the front. Tim was immediately impressed with the confinement aspects of his imprisonment; the impact of solid metal containment and the feeling of impending claustrophobia were powerful. Tim reflexively jerked his head, finding it immovable, as he saw a tube appear from a hole above. It descended directly in front of the plastic covers shielding his eyes until the end of the tube reached its destination – the rubber trough attached to his hood. Tim imagined a funnel above. Aware of his inability to move away from or dislodge the tube, the threat of forced urinal service loomed. Seconds later, Tim felt liquid enter his mouth. He heard Jason’s teasing tone of voice. “I hope you’re not the type to get car sick!”

Engrossed in evaluating his plight, Tim heard a car door open and close and the sound of car doors locking. Through the solid plastic eyes of his hood, he looked for Jason. The sight of ventilation holes and a small barred window reinforced the prison-like effect of the metal box containing him. After realizing that Jason was no longer in the car, Tim experienced a sense of time elapsing. The interior of Jason’s SUV darkened. The air turned stagnant and hot. Inside his hood, Tim grimaced and swallowed as the shallow stream of piss continued. The crate seemed to close in on him, and Tim perspired heavily under the latex catsuit. He tested the restraints, feeling the full extent of his head to toe immobility. Sweat trickled into his ass crack, where his anus squeezed the base of the butt plug. The pain in his cock felt numbing.

Tim consciously inhaled and exhaled, swallowing obediently, taking deep breaths, and forcing calmness as the passing minutes threatened to produce panic and struggle. His heart told him Jason was not far away and would return soon. His mind feared otherwise. I don’t really know Jason, he thought. Can he be trusted? Hadn’t Jason said he needed to leave the airport soon? Why the change in plans, now that I am in trapped in such a kinky situation?

Remembering Jason’s horny reference to predicament bondage, Tim knew his condition must be a good example of it. Encased in rubber, deprived of the possibility of any movement, locked in a metal box in the cargo area of an abandoned car, Tim reminded himself that he had cooperated in achieving this result. With each breath, Tim was aware of rubber, leather, rope, and metal. The sadistic head to toe combination of restraints, perverted urinal bondage, cumbersome butt plug, and metal imprisonment concocted by Jason were taking Tim to a new level of restraint. Tim felt overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness and dependence that he had not encountered since Ross moved away.

Tim strained to hear any noise that might indicate Jason’s return. Horny and nervous, wiggling reflexively in enjoyment of his severe restrictions, Tim tortured himself with questions. How long will I be in here, waiting, all alone? Would anyone hear me, through this hood, through the gag, through the metal box, outside the car, if I manage to scream? Of course, I don’t need to scream. Jason will return. But when? Will Ross be with him? Am I waiting for Ross? Tim’s cock reacted strongly to that thought. Tormenting Tim by nestling into the chastity spikes, the head of Tim’s cock seemed to be speaking to him, taunting him, as if to say, “You asked for this. Now suck it up and enjoy it!” Powerless to do otherwise, Tim squirmed, waited, and waited, and continued to anticipate his fate.

 

Metal is most grateful to the author of Waiting For Ross (who wishes to remain anonymous) for sending this latest chapter and for allowing it to be presented here on Metalbond.

NOTE: The chapters of Waiting for Ross that came BEFORE the End Game series were written long before Metalbond was in existence, and they are posted to other sites, including Eckie and Rubberzone . If you haven’t read those, I encourage you look up WFR on those other sites.