Tag Archives: rts

Thirty Hours

By rts

Part 1

I am wearing my 20-hole steel toe Rangers with tight black thick leather pants tucked in. The leathers have a removable codpiece, and centered over my butt is a round opening directly placed to give access to my butthole. My upper body is clothed in a tight leather shirt over which I am zipped into a heavy black collarless motorcycle jacket. My hands are gloved in leather gauntlets. I am standing in a very warm underground concrete cell waiting in silence and dressed as I was told to be.

Over my head there is a chain hanging from a pulley. The end of this chain is attached to a hand crank mounted on one wall. The cell is about 12 X 12 feet, windowless with only a steel door for access. I am excited standing here uncertain of what’s to come. I have only met this leather wearing skin online, I wanting to experience an inescapable bondage weekend in full gear, and he wanting to put a booted guy in some uncomfortable restraints getting off on watching the struggle. After discussing the gear I would be wearing, agreeing to be under his total control for the weekend, and he to respect my limits I prepped myself by fasting 24 hrs before our meet and gave myself a good cleanout. Following his instructions I found his place late Saturday morning and let myself in the back door then down the stairs to this underground cell. We had only met online and talked on the phone about our interests and we hit it off.

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Wanted Karl – Part 3

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)

I am left on the floor chained to this post for hours, enduring the abuse of the rubber men around me. I have been pissed on, whipped and hogtied until finally it’s closing time. Tom comes over and dumps a bucket of water over me. “Just trying to wash off some of that piss stink,” he says, and then he frees me from the hogtied position and pulls me to my feet. Dragging me with the chain locked to my posture collar, he leads me, my boots dragging, the leg iron chains rattling on the concrete floor, to a steel door that he unlocks, pulling me into another room. There are several steel frame beds with rubber mattresses, metal lockers between them. The walls are concrete without windows and along one of them there is plumbing for a shower with douche hose, an in-floor squat toilet and a sink. A full-length mirror is mounted on the side wall.

I am shaking with fatigue and nervousness as he removes my gas mask and then starts unstrapping the straight jacket and pulls it off me, freeing my arms briefly, then he re-cuffs them behind my back. It actually feels a bit cooler now that I am free from that jacket. He removes my ball gag, warning me not to speak.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 3

Wanted Karl – Part 2

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)

The night was an agony, my crotch painfully straddling the pipe keeping pressure on the anal intruder trapping my balls and invading my ass, I got no sleep constantly trying to stand up on my booted toes to relieve the pressure but my worn out thigh muscles giving out forcing me to endure sitting down. My jaw aches from the ball gag, my rubber suit is filled with sweat, my arms are cramped in this straightjacket, my posture collar is a torment. I can’t take this anymore. I’ll surrender all control just to get out of this ordeal and this confining gear. I am scared at the thought of what my future will be, but I have to just to be released from this torment.

I don’t know what punishment Mark will inflict on me if he takes me back, maybe as rough as what’s happening to me now, and permanent slavery under his control would be brutal. The other possibility of being sold as a rubber slave to a strange top man frightens me with uncertainty, and I am overwhelmed at the prospect of being anyone’s permanent slave. I am sobbing at the idea that my release can only happen with total surrender to losing control of my future.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 2

Wanted Karl – Part 1

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)


I’ve been in this city for a couple of weeks living in an old industrial section just a few blocks from an interesting leather/rubber bar which is having a rubber fetish weekend starting Friday today. In preparation I haven’t eaten any solid food for 24 hours, and have given myself a thorough clean out. I can’t wait to get into my body suit which is now fully lubed up and ready and get over there. I love this suit, it was custom made for me using a thicker rubber than usual, it has attached feet, gloves and hood, a cod access to my boys, and a rubber grommet lined hole lined up to my butt. It has shoulder entry zips which close over the sides of the two piece hood (the front half of the hood is attached and now hangs down in from of the suit, the rear half down the back and when both shoulder zips are pulled closed to the neck they can then be zipped up the sides of the hood meeting at top of my head and can be locked together sealing me in).

It feels good working my legs into the lubed tight rubber and pulling the suit up my body, working my cock and balls thru the cod piece hole, getting my arms down the sleeves and fingers seated in the gloves finally pulling the shoulder zips closed to the base of my neck, enjoying the tight feeling of restriction the thick rubber imposes on my movements. The rubber wants to return me upright whenever I bend or turn. I have not closed the hood yet as I want to have my shaved head seen when I walk into the bar hoping to attract the interest of any other rubber skinheads.

I sit down and reach for my 20 hole ranger boots, bending against the suit’s resistance as I pull them on and lace them closed enjoying the feeling of being totally encased in rubber, recalling how I got this gear.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 1

Some Time in Rubber

By rts

I only began wearing rubber a couple of years ago, having no one to partner with I never had the “incentive” to remain in my catsuit for more than 12 hours, and that was an act of self control. Usually I find myself too horney after just a few hours to resist pounding off and then needing to get out of the rubber immediately after as I begin to feel more uncomfortable in the restrictiveness and sweat.

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