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It started with Mitts –Part 18

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By Bondagegimp

Electrotorture

Jad had practically jumped up before the glass had even hit the floor. “I’m getting everything ready!” Fuck, he’s probably been imagining all this for days, he won’t spare me anything. I burrow into Bob’s chest. Doggy is still standing there, motionless, with the glass on his back. Bob and I look at him, I look at Bob. I have to laugh into my gag. Bob laughs out loud too, goes to Doggy, takes the glass down, and brings him to us. We both cuddle up to Bob. I don’t really like it, though. I realize how jealous I am. Bob should be mine, mine alone. Yes, admittedly, a questionable claim for someone who’s about to become his slave. But those are my feelings. Another topic I should discuss with Bob. I want him for myself, for me alone!

I tolerate Doggy lying on Bob’s thigh too. I feel a bit sorry for him. Jad seems to be going hard on him. Although, he’s been doing this for a while. And Doggy keeps coming. So, he seems to like it. Just like I haven’t taken any of the opportunities to get away from Bob. He gave me the chance a few times. I stayed. Not least because it wasn’t a final decision. I could postpone the decision. I know procrastination from my studies. It catches up with you really badly at some point. In a few days I have to decide. What exactly? Bob or no Bob? Give up my previous life? Is it giving up? Or is it about choosing a new life? A life full of love, lust and passion? But the price is severing all ties to my former life.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 18 →

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It started with Mitts –Part 17

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By Bondagegimp

Darkness

Black. Everything is black. It was still light in the cabin when Bob put in my contact lenses. But there’s nothing left of it, not the slightest bit of light. My eyes dart around in panic, trying to see anything, at least a little bit of brightness. But nothing! Since the second lens was in my eye, I haven’t been able to calm down. It’s too brutal how Bob simply took away my sight. One moment it was light, now it’s just black. Blacker than any darkness.

Now Bob snuggles up to me, half on top of me, one leg over my legs so he could rub my diaper with his thigh, or at least I can feel the weight of his leg muscles on my cock. His upper body is half on top of me, one arm around me. His head is very close to mine; I can feel his beard, his breathing. He speaks soothingly to me, holding my head. At the same time, I feel him staring at me. I knew his gaze, when he pierced me with his eyes, peering deep into my innermost being, fathoming me. I feel his face above mine. I know he is staring at me like that again. I know how closely he studied other people’s gazes and how much he can read in them. But it must be different if the gaze isn’t returned. The black contact lenses work both ways. I’m blind, but Bob can’t look into me either. It seems to fascinate Bob incredibly, because he remains completely motionless for several minutes. “Such helpless eyes” – that’s what he says again and again.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 17 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 16

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By Bondagegimp

Dusk

At some point, the sun reaches the horizon – a wonderful play of colors enchants sky and landscape. I turn to Bob. He looks at me with a loving yet slightly sad gaze and kisses me passionately again. As soon as the sun has set, he reaches for the muzzle and puts it on me – this time without a gag, just with the padded leather shell. It doesn’t completely prevent me from speaking, but it’s so tight that I can only open my mouth with difficulty, and my words are very muffled.

Bob stands up, gets a chain and locks: He attaches one end of the chain to the chain between my ankle cuffs, and the other somewhere on my back to the straitjacket. The chain is long enough that I can still kneel, but I can no longer walk. Now Bob starts to clear away the dishes from the picnic. Since he’s leaving me in the straitjacket and has also tied my feet, I can’t help him. So, I just sit there, enjoy the warm evening air and watch Bob collect everything and put it in boxes.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 16 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 15

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By Bondagegimp

Visit

We’re lying on the large blanket in the garden. I feel the sun on my skin. Yes, on my skin! For once, I’m not wearing a rubber suit. My skin is allowed to breathe, at least partially. But my head is once again wrapped in the thickly padded leather hood. The earplugs are still in, as is the gag, and my eyes are still taped shut. But the rubber hood has also been removed. And I’m in the rubber straitjacket. But at least I’m not wearing a suit underneath.

My legs are spread quite wide, almost painfully wide, with a spreader bar. My head is in Bob’s lap. Jad sits or lies a little further down, near my legs. When Bob strokes my head, it creates a noise in the hood, a whooshing or scratching. This drowns out all other sounds. Only when Bob isn’t touching my head at all can I hear a little bit of what’s outside. Not much; I just hear muffled voices. Bob and Jad are talking. Sometimes they laugh. I can’t understand a word, but I get a certain vibe.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 15 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 14

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By bondagegimp

The small cell

Bob leaves the room. I’m completely exhausted, only slowly catching my breath. I’d love to sit or lie down, but I’m still strapped into the frame: the collar holds my head, the plug is still drilling into my hole, my hands are tied behind the bar. The cords from my nipples and balls to the head harness are taut, and every movement of my head causes severe pain. But at least the treadmill is off.

I’d like to see what Bob is doing, but turning my head is completely out of the question. The pain is most bearable when I stand completely still, not moving at all. But I can still feel it, a throbbing pain in my nipples and hole. My balls are the easiest to release. My urethra burns a little from the semen that pushed past the catheter. My legs are shaking from the exertion; I have no choice but to lower myself onto the plug until I’m practically sitting on it, and it’s supporting some of my weight.

Once again, it was an incredible orgasm that Bob painfully forced out of me. When he held my head so tightly, I felt an incredible sense of security, yet at the same time it was incredibly oppressive. It really was like a nightmare, when you’re running away and can’t move. And then all his talking about how I’ll always stay with him, how he won’t let me go. Did he mean it? Was he going to leave me no choice? Was he just going to keep me? Was it a mistake to put myself in his hands again? Bob called it trauma therapy. But really, it was a punishment for my escape and a barely disguised threat. How does he manage to make me horny while doing that?

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 14 →

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It started with Mitts –Part 13

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By bondagegimp

Trauma therapy

Wall. In front of me, all I can see is the wall. I’m standing on my tiptoes. The muzzle I’m wearing has this ring right in front of my mouth, and Bob has attached it to a hook on the wall so high that I have to stand on tiptoes and look diagonally upwards. Bob has left me here while he prepares something. I can’t see what, I can’t see him. I only see the wall. My head is tied to the wall with a thick lock. But I can hear him working.

Steel bars are banging together, a screwdriver is screwing, things are being pushed back and forth on the floor. I have no idea what he’s up to. I’m nervous, sweating. The sweat is collecting in the booties of the rubber suit. It’s the same one as yesterday on our walk. The one with the rubber sheath over the hole. Bob fucked it into me again with great pleasure. I’m also wearing my sneakers again. And the gag from yesterday, the mouth over it is taped up again with the foil plaster, on top of which is the rubber mask from the suit.

Bob wants to re-create yesterday. We were just lying in the evening sun. My shoulders ached from the tight restraints, the collar cutting into my neck. But I enjoyed the moment with Bob, who, lost in thought, played with my nipples while I snuggled into his muscles.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 13 →

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It started with Mitts –Part 12

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By bondagegimp

Matt and John

Did Bob send me a message? I don’t know, but the small gesture gives me some courage. Despite the cramped conditions in the cage, I start to resist a little. I rub my head against the bars and finally manage to pull off the blindfold. I can’t help but laugh. Something like this would never have happened to Bob. I’ve never managed to get rid of anything he put on me! With Bob, everything is always double-locked. Unless it’s a trick. Is that why I was able to run away? Is it all a game?

The blindfold is only a small victory, because I can’t free myself from the remaining restraints. But at least I can see a little bit again. I can’t see out the windows, but at least I can see the trunk and the dog cage I’m stuck in. I don’t feel quite so helpless anymore.

After a short drive, the car stops and the trunk opens. Matt is a little annoyed about the blindfold, but it doesn’t have any further consequences. They pull me out of the cage by the leash and toward the house. It stands, like all the houses around here, very isolated in the landscape. They pull me into the house and immediately down the cellar stairs.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 12 →

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It started with Mitts –Part 10

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By bondagegimp

In the office

How many days have passed since the party? 4? 5? It’s not easy to keep track when you spend a lot of time in masks or cells that don’t let in daylight. I wonder if Bob is doing this on purpose? Does he want me to lose control, to lose track of the days?

Today I’m allowed to see something again, although not completely freely. I’m wearing a rubber mask that, instead of proper eye openings, has several small holes in front of my eyes, a bit as if someone had randomly punched about 10 holes in front of each eye. Daylight comes in, which is pleasant. And I can see something, which is also an improvement compared to some of the last few days. But it’s difficult to focus. Sometimes my eye looks through one hole, then the other. It’s usually easier to close one eye and look through one hole with just one eye. But that’s tiring, and only a small section, a small tunnel. Somehow oppressive. So I look with both eyes, without focusing.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 10 →