(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.
I was in a relationship in another city with Mark, who was topping me. He was attracted to me, a skinhead hustler, took me to his farm outside of the city and introduced me to bondage rubber play. I was into helping out and working for him and after a couple of months he offered to have this rubber suit made for me. He said I could earn it by putting in work time. Once the suit was ready I began wearing it regularly, enjoying the feeling of sweating in the rubber, occasionally locked in chastity, my butt frequently plugged. Mark then started to occasionally lock me in it for 8 then 12 and up to 24 hours. I enjoyed this loss of control but as he extended the time keeping me trapped in it, becoming more and more uncomfortable, I had to beg for release.
He indicated that he would like to make me his permanent slave. This I objected to, refusing to call him master, and told him I was ok with him topping me but not owning me.
He responded that in that case I would have to sign a contract for work payment for the rubber suit, binding me to him until the debt was paid off. I figured since the suit cost about $1,000 that it would be easy to work it off. So I signed the contract, neglecting to read it, finding out later that he was only paying me $1.00 per hour and deducting me $10.00 per day for “meals” (if I worked 10 hours a day for a 7 day week the debt could never be paid). I had just signed myself to permanent bondage! Feeling helplessly trapped I planned to make my escape at the first opportunity when I was out of the gear getting cleaned up. It took me another two weeks of hard labor before I had that chance. When he went to the city and failed to lock me in, I took the rubber suit, grabbed some “toys” he used on me, took some money he kept in the house and wearing just my old skinhead gear, I took off and hitch rides half way across the country to this place.
I was now almost ready for a horney rubber weekend in this new town where no-one knows me, hoping to hook up with a hot top and maybe hustle him to keep me around for a while. I picked up my rubber butt plug (it has a double lip base) I lube it and work it in thru the grommet hole in the suit with some struggle, one lip inside the suit which holds it in, the bottom lip outside the suit covering the grommet and keeping me plugged preventing any unwanted butt fucking, but is easily removable. I put on my thick rubber belt which holds a small pocket for my cash and ID, two open locks — one for the closed hood and the other for my rubber posture collar which I hang from it. I decide to leave the keys behind, setting myself up for an interesting time. My cock is pushing hard against my codpiece as I pull on a hoodie and walk out the door into the night, enjoying the sweat, the restrictive enclosure of the rubber and the butt plug working away with each step.
The dark streets are empty, lined with old warehouses and small factories. I cut thru an alley, cross a few more empty streets, my boots crunching on the gravel, my sweaty rubber squeaking with my movement, the butt plug keeping me turned on and in just a few more blocks I arrive at the back door to the bar.
I can her the beat of the music. The sign on the door reads “full rubber dress code only.” I enter a large old factory with dim lights reflecting off of shiny rubber figures moving around. I see the bar built around some large old machines. There are three barmen, and two of them are wearing heavy back rubber Viking dry suits, head harnessed with mouths muzzled, their necks locked in steel collars that are chained to an overhead rail permitting them only to move back and forth behind the bar. The third Main Barman is wearing only tight rubber jeans tucked into 20 hole ranger boots, and a body harness, he is a skinhead.
We look each other over as I take off my hoodie and hand it to him, when I ask him if he would look after it for me, he says ok then takes out his phone and snaps a picture of me. I ask him if the other two barmen enjoy being chained up like that while they work and do they get freed for a piss break. He smiles, “that’s why they are kept locked in their drysuits, no need for a break and they really don’t have a choice, I only let them out for a few hours once a day and that’s all they deserve.” He tells me his name is Tom asks of mine so I lie and say it’s “Paul.”
“Why are you not wearing the hood?” he asks. I tell him I was hoping to connect with other skins here. He smiles and reaching across the bar grabbed me by the dangling hood, pulling me down across the bar saying, “you just found one mate.” The other two barmen, neck chains rattling, came over quickly and pinned my arms down. My cock is now rigid tight in my codpiece, I am really turned on by this. “You would look hotter wearing it.” Tom then took hold of the front and back half of my hood, inserting the breathing tubes attached to the hood into my nostrils as he slowly works the zips from my shoulders up and over the sides of the hood, closing it tightly on my head, then noticing the bondage collar hanging from my belt, taking hold of it he straps it around my neck. My head is held firmly in one position. I’m hoping he doesn’t find the two locks in the belt pouch yet turned on by that thought as he presses my now hooded face tight down on the bar. “I wonder what else you have in that belt?” Gasping for breath, I tell him of the locks. One of the barmen releases my arm and I fumble to remove the belt and hand it to Tom.
Seeing my ID and my actual name, he glares at me. “Now so it’s Karl, what are you trying to hide? I don’t like liars!” Taking the open locks, he roughly closes one on the lock post of the posture collar, and then smiling he locks the second one holding my hood zips together. I am now trapped in the suit. He asks me for the keys and when I explain that I left them behind he laughs, “you are really fucked boi, no way out of that rubber, now let me do something about your boots.” All three barmen then drag me over the bar and hold me down while the Tom digs out a pair of heavy steel leg irons connected by a short chain and snaps them around my boots, locking them closed. “Those boots are not coming off anytime soon, and I’m hanging on to that little cash you were carrying, you lying little fucker, but drinks are on me. He then takes another pic of me this one full length. “That looks to be a custom made and pricey suit. I wonder how in hell you could afford it.”
Before I can protest, they stand me up and handing me a beer they push me out from behind the bar and into the main room. The leg irons hobble my movement as I slowly shuffle into the rubber crowd. Several men have been watching my interaction with Tom, a few surround me, I like the look of one of them, great-looking tight rubber body suit, hip waders, shaved head about my size, leading a boy in a tight leather bondage suit and hood by a chain locked to his collar. I question him being in leathers and his Top Man informs me that he is all rubbered up underneath. Then removing a pair of handcuffs from his belt he quickly grabs my wrist, snaps the cuff on it and pulling my arm behind my back reaches for my other arm as I drop my beer and cuffs them together. I don’t resist. He asks about the locks keeping me in my suit, and smiles when he hears the I don’t have the keys with me. “Not too smart are you?” he laughs.
I am getting nervous at the reality of my situation. I am now under the control of these men, locked in my suit and posture collar without the keys, this man has the keys to my cuffs and Tom the key to my leg irons. I am hating the restriction of the collar and regretting bringing it as the Top Man now locks it midway to the chain holding his leather bondage boy. When I try to voice my objection he grabs my head, one hand blocking my nose the other pushing a rubber ball gag into my mouth as I gasp for air. I am really sweating now, drooling around the gag, and he jerks the chain and I stumble forward, the leather bondage boy grunts and bumps into me as we are led around the room.
There are men in full rubber gear, a few chained to the steel posts throughout the room, there are some down on their knees licking the boots of some tough looking Tops. In several cages I see men bound in distress positions and hear quiet moans from some of them, over in a corner there’s a boy in a straightjacket and funnel gag getting pissed on by three hot men. I nervously notice that there seems to be quite a few fully chained up bois, obviously slaves. The Top sees Tom, motioning for him to go over and he drags my stumbling self and the leather bondage boy across to the bar. “That’s lying Karl,” he says and handing his phone over to the Top, “check out this info, it seems little Karl ripped off his last Top man and stole that suit running out on a contract. His Top has posted his pic and all the info all over the net and wants him back or will sell him as a permanent rubber slave for $1,000 with the suit included.”
I am struggling helpless, trying to say no please not that, but the ball gag reduces my efforts to just desperate grunts. I am soaked with sweat, my cock is rigid and oozing pre cum, I want desperately to be free and yet strangely turned on by my trapped situation. Tom tells the Top to take me to “the special cage and prepare me for some discipline.” I resist his efforts to pull me but a hard boot in the ass from Tom gets me moving. I am led to a narrow vertical cage just wide enough to stand in, across the cage at about crotch height is a horizontal metal pipe about 4 inches in diameter which fits thru a hole in the door and is fixed to the back of the structure. My posture collar is unlocked from the lead chain, my codpiece is unsnapped and removed, another rubber man works at removing the butt plug. Smiling, the Top walks over holding a steel “anal intruder” and taken hold of my cock an ball sack, works the ring over the base of my balls and attached shaft presses against my crotch as he inserts the lubed ball end butt plug thru the grommet hole and pushes it slowly up my ass. Not finished, he now places my cock and balls into a steel “seedpod,” locking it closed effectively preventing removal of the “anal intruder.” I am grunting in panic, the size and weight of the steel intruder up my butt is unpleasant. I want to end this but I have no choice but to endure the humiliation. Two rubber men take hold of my arms as another unlocks the cuffs, then producing a rubber straightjacket they overcome my struggles as they work my arms into the sleeves and tightly strap the back closed, crossing my now useless arms behind me, further secured with the additional straps. This only adds to the heat of my gear and my fearfulness of my future.
I am now walked backwards into the cage, my legs straddle the horizontal metal pipe pressed firmly against my crotch and the anal intruder, they chain my posture collar to top of the cage, my boots pressed tight against the sides. My stiff collar prevents me from looking down as something is fumbled with around my seed pod. The barred door is pushed closed and I am now wedged in tight. Straddling the pipe is becoming uncomfortable, pressing the intruder tight up my ass, the only relief comes when I get up on the balls of my feet, a position I can only hold until my thigh muscles tire.
Tom now comes to the front of the cage holding a small box with some wires. “This is a special treat a liar and thief like you has earned.” I frantically grunt thru the ball gag and helplessly try to explain my actions with Mark, my first top. “There is a pulsing electric current running thru the pipe your crotch is in contact with, the intensity and frequency varies but never stops, so every time that anal intruder is in contact you will be shocked randomly and only when you lift yourself up will it stop. This will continue until you willingly confess and accept your fate as a permanent rubber slave.”
I try to shake my head “no” but the chained posture collar prevents me.
“I will check back in 2 hours. I’m sure you will be ready to accept your fate by then, if not another 3 hours will be your punishment.”
Tom walks away, the room is filled with other rubber men enjoying my predicament as spotlights are turned on adding more heat to my hot rubber encasement. I am sitting pensively on the pipe when I am jolted by a shock felt in my balls and up my butt, I quickly stand on my toes, my legs begin to quiver and I drop down hard on the pipe another shock sends me up on my toes but briefly as my legs weaken and I again drop down on the pipe, the anal intruder fucking me. There is no shock as I sit helpless breathing heavily as drool drips from the ball gag, my crotch is starting to hurt from straddling this pipe, my poor cock and balls are crush in the seed pod, my piss leaking out over my boots, and then the shock hits. This keeps repeating until my legs are too tired to lift me up, so I am forced to remain seated enduring the pressure of the pipe and the repeat jolts of electricity groaning as the watching crown of rubber men laugh and hoot. I’m sobbing. I just can’t take this, but the thought of surrendering to being someone’s permanent slave scares me. That’s the reason I left Mark — and these men might return me to him. That could be a worse fate than becoming the property of some other top master.
Tom returns, “you are looking pretty pathetic but I don’t think you are ready to confess your crimes against your former top man, I think you badly need some water.” He reaches in and removes the ball gag from my aching mouth, holding a bottle to my lips and as I suck at it he asks if I have had enough. I plead with him to hear my side of the events that led me to run away, sobbing, “I don’t want to be someone’s permanent slave.” He just smiles and shoves the ball gag back in my mouth and straps it closed. “A slave doesn’t choose his enslavement, I’m leaving you here like this until tomorrow, but I will not turn on the electricity, that pipe your’re straddling should keep you occupied in discomfort, I expect by then you might accept your fate, and oh by the way, your previous top man will be here by then, either someone buys you for $1,000 or you are going back with him.”
This rubber has been locked on me for hours, I am hot and grotty with sweat, piss dripping from the now painful seedpod, the anal intruder keeps working my butt and I want it out, the straight jacket is uncomfortably tight, my crotch is hurting from straddling this pipe, and my mouth aches from the relentless ball gag. I curse myself for bringing the posture collar imprisoning my neck and holding my head firmly in its confines. What the hell was I thinking as I sob in realization of the trap I am in.
I will agree to anything to end this ordeal.
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Metal would like to thank rts for this story! He is pictured above, locked and chained in his biker leathers, sweating and restrained: