Waiting for Ross – End Game – Part 2

Written by an anonymous friend of Metalbond

Part 2

Tim’s body jerked suddenly, overtaken by a sensation of falling. Sightless within a tight rubber hood, Tim strained to see through it. His efforts produced a weird, omniscient vision in his mind. Watching himself from above while embodying the experience below, he saw and felt the movement as he shifted uncomfortably off balance, forced to bend at the waist, trying not to tip further forward.

Part of his weight was held by his wrists, drawn together up behind him, attached to a chain stretching from above. The rest was supported by his toes and the balls of his feet, enclosed in latex, pulled widely apart, and fixed to a cold, concrete floor. A second chain extended from a ring in the center of a spreader bar between his ankles to a tight harness binding and separating his balls, protruding from an opening in the slick rubber suit. From the head of his erect, bound cock, a suspended weight was swinging between his legs. Any movement of his body increased the stress at multiple points: back, shoulders, wrists, waist, dickhead, balls, and feet. There was no comfortable position possible to ease the strain. He groaned into a rubber wedge gag, trying desperately to remain still despite his discomfort. Time passed, hanging like a slaughtered pig, sweating, moaning. The vision dimmed, and he thought he was losing consciousness.

Rebounding in pain, Tim shifted his weight, attempting to relieve the aching of stiff knees. But his efforts set off a wave of involuntary turmoil. His entire body began writhing as one unit, like a giant, wiggling phallus. As it struggled, out of Tim’s control, Tim suffered the consequences. No longer hanging from a chain, his celestial self saw that he was tightly cocooned; thick, unyielding encasement compressed him from head to toe. Hot, sweaty, claustrophobic feelings enveloped him. Constricting hoods closed in on him. Sensory deprivation obliterated reality. Panic threatened his sanity, but his own painful erection betrayed him. He gasped for breath and tried to calm his body, to make it accept its predicament, but a pounding cock penetrated his ring-gagged mouth deeply, and he could not relax.

Prominent in the view from above was a large tattoo on a massively muscled right biceps – it was GearDom’s tattoo – yet it was Ross’s muscular back and ass that hammered the rubber mummy’s tightly hooded face. Furious pounding matched the vigorous movements of the mummy as it squirmed. The rhythm created a ringing noise in Tim’s head, a buzzing sound that commanded a sense of urgency. Floating in a trance of ever changing forms of bondage, Tim was abruptly conscious. The noise was coming from his phone, waking him. He sat up, dizzy, and turned uncertainly toward the nightstand beside his bed. Glowing in the dark, the caller ID displayed CALIFORNIA. Tim answered.


“Hi, pig.”


“Apparently your old phone number still works.”

Even groggy with sleep, Tim knew the deep, sexy voice immediately.

“Hi, Sir.”

“You sound out of it, pig, like I woke you from a deep sleep.”

Tim tried to clear the raspy sound in his throat. “Yes, that’s right, still not fully awake, Sir.” Tim switched on the lamp next to his bed and looked at the clock. “It’s 2:30 AM here.”

Tim heard sadistic chuckling. “Feeling disoriented, maybe even slightly annoyed by a phone call in the middle of the night?”

Tim felt his face flush with embarrassment. He didn’t know what to say. Obviously Ross was enjoying himself at Tim’s expense. In seconds, Ross had already transformed a phone call into a form of kinky humiliation.

Tim stuttered. “Just … confused … sleepy … need a minute or two to focus.”

“Were you dreaming of me … and rubber bondage?” Tim was silent. “Or were you fantasizing about my partner, who told me you clicked on his profile 17 times in two days. You see something there you like?”

Tim suddenly remembered Ross’s uncanny ability to read his thoughts. Caught off guard, he couldn’t think of a clever defense. “Yes, Sir,” Tim admitted, “You were in the dream.”

Tim felt Ross’s ego through the phone as the matching, authoritarian voice responded. “Just read your email response, asking to be considered for our 24/7 situation. Glad to hear you are ready to admit what your true position in life is, pig.”

Tim was too flabbergasted to say anything.

Ross continued, “Apparently I’m already in your dreams, but I can captivate your waking moments, too pig. Keep you focused 24/7 on rubber encasement, tight bondage, incarceration, and me.”

Feeling stupid and instantly regretting it as he said it, Tim blurted out, “And would your rubber pig be allowed to go to a gym, Sir?”

Tim thought he heard Ross snicker. “We will keep you healthy and well muscled, if that’s your concern. We have plenty of workout equipment here.”

Still sleepy, Tim didn’t have the energy to be calculating with his responses. “Sir, I’m not sure why I emailed you. I’m confused, or maybe just horny.”

Ross responded quickly, “Things will be very clear when you become our pig.”

“Um … I don’t know, Sir. I remember after the horniness would leave being pretty lonely, um … and uncomfortable sometimes, you know, when I was your pig a few years ago. Hot and sweaty, stuck in bondage difficult to handle … for hours. And being forced to drink piss was gross and humiliating. Don’t know if I want to go through all that again. Um, plus I guess I thought back then … um, you got a little sick of my, um … reluctance and indecision.”

The tone of Ross’s voice sounded reassuring. “This time will be different. This time you won’t have the pressures of the outside world to distract you from bondage and service. Suffering is not a negative thing, my pig. It is what bondage masochists do. It is the reality of bondage. Your reluctance is natural and also a turn-on. You want to be a bondage pig, then you get what you want, only to rediscover how difficult real life is. But you will endure it, first, because you know me and understand you are basically stuck anyway, until I decide otherwise. And second, because that’s what you signed up for. I think you will never feel fulfilled until you live it, at least for a few years. Sealed up in skintight layers of rubber, locked in metal restraints, securely fastened, maybe immobilized in storage or otherwise imprisoned, sightless, ear plugged, recycling piss, your focus on what you were born for will be clear and unconfused. Your cock will subsist on your own bondage misery, punishing you with painful erections because it knows your torment will please me.”

Bone hard now, Tim’s cock raised up, stiffly uncomfortable against his stomach. Tim had forgotten how it felt to be addressed as “pig” and to be maneuvered by Ross’s strong narratives and skills of persuasion. Tim was flustered, excited, horny, and didn’t know what to say. The conversation had advanced so fast. His ability to process felt impaired. After a silent pause of several seconds, Tim said, “I need a lot of exercise, Sir.” Fuck, what a dumb thing to say, Tim immediately thought.

“We like the photos of you as muscle model.” Ross continued talking. “The details will not be your concern, but I can envision a program of earning credits that allow workout time in exchange for serving us. Maybe a rationing arrangement, one to two hours of exercise, allocated as I see fit, for every 12 to 48 hours spent in storage. A good pig, bad pig kind of reward system.”

Tim felt his painful erection, demanding attention. He gulped. He heard Ross laugh quietly into the phone. “I hear heavy breathing. Are you playing with yourself without my permission, pig?”

Tim also laughed. “Sorry, Sir. I can’t help it.”

Sounding stern, Ross commanded, “We need to get you under strict control, locked up, very securely, in an extremely uncomfortable chastity device until you come out here. Your phone number hasn’t changed. Is your mailing address the same, pig?”

Tim switched the phone to his other hand and pounded his cock. “It’s different now, Sir.”

“Email your address to me after we hang up. Are you wearing rubber, pig?”

“No, Sir. I gave away all my gear a few years ago.”

Ross directed, “We should fix that too, immediately, pig. I want you in full rubber when you have the privilege of being on the phone with me. I envision a nightly inspection by Webcam, after which you should be sleeping in head to toe latex every night, plugged and gagged, a heavy metal collar, chained with your wrists and ankles cuffed together at the very least. But the long distance control needn’t last for long. I intend to get you out here pretty quickly.”

Tim looked at the clock in disbelief.  Less than 10 minutes had passed and Ross was already rearranging his life.  Tim laughed to himself. Maybe he was taking all of this too seriously. Why not enjoy the phone call? “It’s good to hear your voice, Sir. May I ask another question?”

“Knock yourself out, pig.”

“With your system for rewards, what would be an example of good or bad pig behavior?”

Tim heard Ross clear his throat. His tone deepened as he began to describe a scenario. “Locked in a narrow, vertical jail cell, sealed and silent, I see you standing bolt upright, the only position the space allows. From the outside, you look like a typical rubber prisoner, tightly encased and thoroughly restrained head to toe – a thick rubber straitjacket secures your upper body, while below your legs are bound at multiple points, thighs, knees and ankles together. A myriad of padlocked straps fastens everything, you’re tightly collared, hooded, muzzled, and gagged – the kind of setup a rubber bondage slut like you craves.”

Tim groaned involuntarily and pounded his cock. Ross paused in response and asked, “What’s going on there, pig?”

“Um, you know, sorry, nothing. Continue, please Sir.”

“Well, that’s how you look from the outside. On the inside, however, while your long day in the cell has not been that unusual, I know it was a difficult one, and it pleases me immensely. Inside your rubber encasement you are totally hairless, body and head shaved for maximum rubber contact and skin coated with the day’s sweat. Deep within, your system was entirely cleansed before the day started. Under ultra-tight latex sealing you from head to toe, a spiked chastity device keeps your torturous attempts at erection painfully locked down. A dildo harness strapped firmly between your muscular butt cheeks ensures your ass stays massively plugged. You have spent the day squirming in place, first savoring your predicament, later regretting it, and eventually resenting each of its many details, along with its tormenting longevity. Frequently responding to the plug and spikes, you seek small changes in position as your rubber-encased feet shift in place and your toes wiggle to balance you. While you know you are monitored at all times, you feel abandoned, ignored, lonely, and desperate for release. Admiring the compression of the hood, stretched so tightly the facial features underneath are discernible, I look directly at you. I know the tiny pepper pot holes at eye level allow you to see I have entered the dungeon for the first time in 8 hours, and you react as trained by … ”

Loud gasps and moans interrupted Ross, followed by exclamations from Tim. “Sir, fuck, oh shit, Sir!” Defying Tim’s previous eruptions just hours before, Tim’s cock spurted jets of cum on his chest, stomach, and hand. He knew immediately it was his most excruciating, satisfying orgasm in five years.

A few seconds passed as Tim caught his breath, and soon Ross started talking again. “Well, pig, my story does not end with the pig being allowed to cum. You have just provided an example of bad pig behavior, without even being here in person. I should make you lick up your cum while I stay on the phone.”

Tim didn’t know what to say. The orgasm had rapidly deflated the entire situation. Suddenly he wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible.

Again, Ross seemed to be reading his mind. “I need to hang up, pig. Remember my instruction about emailing your address. Talk to you again soon.”

“Thanks for your call, Sir.”

When Tim woke the next morning, late for work, he hurried through his morning routine, trying to suppress thoughts of Ross. Each time fragments of the exchange with Ross crept into Tim’s thoughts, his cock hardened in response, but Tim ignored it, along with Ross’s request about email. Two busy days passed, but the subliminal lust aroused by Ross, and its constant erections, persisted. At the gym after work, Tim decided on a particularly grueling routine, increasing the weight for his bench press exercise. Trapped underneath on the bench, struggling through a final repetition, Tim realized he needed assistance, just as Mike passed by and rescued him.

Tim stared up at Mike’s spread legs and prominent biceps as Mike easily managed the barbell. Mike commented, “You look like you’re about to break through into a new zone, in more ways than one.” Tim sat up and blushed. He knew immediately Mike was referring to the bulge in Tim’s crotch.

Mike asked, “Want to have coffee when you’re finished? I am not really working here tonight.” Stunned, Tim accepted the invitation. He had been infatuated with Mike, the new personal trainer (and a hottie) for months, but did not think Mike ever noticed him except in a professional sense.

Hours later at Mike’s place, Tim watched the ecstatic agony on his face as Mike fucked him deeply with his monster erection. Lying on his back, legs up and spread for maximum penetration, Tim turned his head from side to side while Mike pounded away. As Mike held Tim’s ankles for support and drove his dick home repeatedly without mercy, Tim was aware of the beauty of Mike’s body: tanned skin, white ass, contracted abs, thick cock and big balls, bulging biceps, muscular legs, and sexy feet, all working together, attempting to fuck Tim into a frenzy of begging for more. A masculine, athletic odor filled Tim’s nostrils as Mike, determined to keep fucking until Tim ejaculated, contracted the muscles of his ass to ram Tim over and over.

As Mike’s cock edged inevitably toward a final climax, however, it was neither the sight nor smell of Mike’s body that occupied Tim’s thoughts. Rather, it was the memory of Tim’s phone conversation with Ross. While Mike’s cock filled with cum and began to pump, the image in Tim’s head was of himself, as a rubber-encased bondage pig, Ross’s pig, an image narrated by Ross’s on words – “the kind of setup a rubber bondage slut like you craves.” That image imprinted in Tim’s mind, sending the needed signal to his cock, and he finally came.


To be continued …


Metalbond wishes to thank his anonymous friend for this story.


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