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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 →

Story

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 →

Story

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.

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Story

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 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 09

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By bondagegimp

To start at the very beginning, click for Part 1

The party

Bob had already changed into very, very short leather shorts that just barely covered his powerful butt and ended where his thigh muscles began to bulge. On top, he was wearing only a tank top that showed off his muscular upper arms. It was, once again, incredibly sexy. What worried me was that if he was going to the party like this, he wasn’t making much of a secret of his fetish. So what would he pick out for me?

Bob leads me on a leash into one of the rooms next to the cell—another tiled room with shower facilities. Near one wall, a chain hangs from the ceiling, attached to a winch. He attaches the ring on the front of my muzzle to it, directly under my nose. Then he tightens the chain over the winch. I have to follow the chain; at first, it pulls my head up so that I have to look up, but Bob continues until I have to stand on tiptoes, facing the wall. Now he loosens all the restraints, but I hang completely helplessly from the head harness. He then takes off my PVC suit, my diapers, and removes my plug, catheter, and all the other cock rings, etc.

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 08

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By bondagegimp

Changes

We lie in bed for a while, tightly embraced. We’re silent. A thousand thoughts should be racing through my head, I should be worried, but I’m simply enjoying the moment. I’m not thinking about yesterday, I’m not thinking about tomorrow. I’m simply here, in Bob’s arms.

Bob’s head is very close to mine. “I don’t know where this journey will take us yet either. But I have a certain idea of the direction we’ll be going. I will take you on this journey, show you the way, and sometimes force you to do things you’ve yet to learn. I will train you and mold you according to my wishes. But I’m only bringing out of you what’s already in your nature, what you forbid yourself from letting out. Perhaps it will even frighten you when you recognize it. We’ll start very carefully. But there will also be hurdles you’ll have to overcome. And we’re starting with that now.”

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 07

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By bondagegimp

Seduction – an interlude

I must have been sobbing loudly in my sleep, because I wake up to Bob shaking me. “What’s wrong, kiddo? Another panic attack? Do you want me to get you out of the sack?” Bob sounds really worried! I have to collect myself first, my voice actually sounds tearful. I’ve lost my composure in my dream, I must have really been crying. With my voice still choked with tears, I say: “It was just a nightmare, I had a bad dream. But I’m fine, I didn’t panic.” I feel safe in the sleepsack and in Bob’s arms, I don’t want to get out at the moment, on the contrary. I bury my head in Bob’s muscles. He hugs me, kisses me, comforts me.

He nestles his head against mine. He just holds me tightly, very tightly in his arms. As if he doesn’t want to let me go. Like in my dream. As I realize this, a tear rolls out of my eye. Bob stays awake, holding me close until I regain my composure and fall asleep. When I wake up again, bright morning light is already coming through the curtains. Bob is still holding me tightly. He notices that I’m awake and hugs me even tighter. I rub my head against him – it’s the only reaction I can show. After a while, Bob says he’s going to get us breakfast. I lie down alone. The dark feeling in my stomach quickly returns. But it gets lost in the mix of emotions, and the sadness from the dream that still hangs over me is the heaviest of them all. I crawl in bed to where Bob was sleeping, crawl my head under his blanket, smell him. It calms me down.

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 06

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By bondagegimp

Rubber room

The cellar stairs? He was talking about a padded cell in his cellar! In the car, everything was still a bit playful, but gradually it became more serious. But this now? Like a dungeon under the house??? Now that’s some serious shit! I wriggle on his shoulder, trying to squirm. Luckily Bob is so strong, we could have tumbled down the basement stairs. He shakes me just once, a signal for me to hold still. But I can’t. I’m really scared shitless now, I don’t want to be locked up in some dark cell!

Bob ignores my wriggling. When we reach the bottom, he puts me on my feet and pulls the chain – I’m supposed to shuffle along behind him. No! I drop to the ground; I’m not going along with this! Without hesitation, Bob picks me up, throws me over his shoulder and walks on unperturbed. Sometimes left, sometimes right – it’s really hard to follow the path when you’re being carried blind. Then he turns in circles a few times until I completely lose my orientation and puts me back on the ground. My feet sink in deeply, as if I’m standing on a very soft mattress, but the surface is very uneven, as if it’s made up of lots of plump, thick cushions. Bob gives me a gentle push. With my feet bound and on the soft floor, I can’t move fast enough, lose my balance and fall like a sack. I instinctively try to catch myself with my hands, yank at my chains, but it doesn’t help. After all, the ground is really very soft, I don’t hurt myself.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 06 →