© 2023 Bostonleatherman

…You are on your own…

You’re glad to have the cigar and start hauling on it a few times to get your nicotine level back up. It’d been a while since you last had a smoke, and this was welcome even if it wasn’t the Red you hoped Garrett would retrieve when he went into your backpack. You can back off on inhaling the cigar for now; you feel the nicotine is starting to relax you a bit and that is what you needed after falling prey to a few of Garrett’s bait and switch ploys. You have to admit, he is a good one when it comes to keeping you on your toes. Always expect the unexpected with him. Your current situation is a perfect example of that. In your mind’s eye you saw things differently. Quite differently – you’d arrive, get settled, get caught up a bit, relax with a drink while you discussed the coming weekend, review the contract you prepared, both sign it, and then the fun begins. Far fucking from it! Fuck you, Garrett.

The closet is getting very smoky. You can’t see it, really, with the light off. But when you take a puff or drag, the burning end glows bright enough for you to see the haze around you. And it’s also getting warm in here. Sweat is starting to run down your temples, around the edge of your jaw and work its way under the thick collar of your straightjacket.

Even shifting your forearms inside the thick leather sleeves is a little sticky. You’d love to be out of here and decide to pick up the pace on your cigar, hoping to smoke it down to whatever finish line Garrett has drawn on it. You can see the ash growing as you smoke it and you love that. Would it ever be possible to smoke a cigar all the way down to the butt and keep the ash intact, you wonder? You’re sure you’ve seen someone do it and decide to make it one of your life goals.

The urge to piss has gotten much stronger in the last few moments and if experience has taught you anything, it’s going to pick up exponentially. You try to shift your weight, move your legs, your body, anything, really to help lessen the urge. But Garrett has done such a fine job of securing you that you can’t move much of anything at all. Which only adds to your discomfort. And which he knows. You made the mistake of telling him once, during one of the many remote piss challenges he’d set up for you, that being able to stand, sit, or shift helps lessen the urgency. You also made the mistake of telling him that remaining still makes it worse. Fuck you, Garrett. No, fuck you, Luke! Maybe this’ll learn ya to keep some things to yourself.

The light snaps on, but the closet doors don’t open. Garrett’s playing with you. The closet is full of thick cigar smoke and you can see it waft around – there’s some air coming through the space between the doors that animates it. Just to make sure you hit your mark, you start smoking the cigar faster. There’s no need to inhale anymore, you’re sure you’re getting more than enough nicotine from the lingering smoke you can’t help but breathe. Which is not as simple as it should be given the constriction on your chest and diaphragm from the straightjacket coupled with all the smoke that’s already in the air.

Finally, the door opens and Garrett is before you, pipe in his mouth. The rush of air conditioning that comes in feels amazing and you close your eyes and let it wash over you. Or your head at least, the only uncovered part of your body. The cigar smoke expands into the hallway and the air is a little lighter. You can’t wait to get out.

Garrett steps in and inspects the cigar very closely. You’re trying to look down your nose to see what he’s seeing, but you can’t focus. It’s just too close. He steps out, shuts the door, and turns off the light.

You hear him speak from the hallway, “Sorry, buddy, you didn’t make it. Almost. But not quite. Keep going and I’ll see you in a while.” His footsteps fade…

Fuck! You try to call after him, but don’t manage much with the cigar held between your teeth. You feel like giving up. But give up what? Walk away from all this? As if you could. As if you would. You need this, crave this. All of this. Whether you like it or not. What do you like better? Liking it or not liking it? You know the answer…

And then there it is, a dribble of piss starting to leak from your cock. You can feel the wet spot growing despite your effort to control it and, damn the torpedoes, you let it flow. That warmth feels soooooo fucking good. There are no consequences to what you’re doing. The thought barely crosses your mind and you’re going to fucking enjoy this moment. Dragging on the cigar while that warmth spreads down your legs is heaven! You have a bit of a pissgasm and let yourself enjoy the afterglow.