By Sparky

7/31/21

You and I have been sent to the playroom to begin what will be a very intense experience for us both. I am sure our cocks would be jutting out in front of us right now if not for the chastity cages we both are locked into.

Our Sirs are on the patio enjoying the beer we have been serving them. Our excitement for tonight’s torment has driven us to ensure they both are well fed and catered to so that we can earn their bondage; earn their cocks inside us.

We undress, carefully placing the shorts and tanks we had been wearing onto the shelf near Sir’s wingback leather chair. Once naked I grab your hand, pulling you close for a deep kiss. Your moan has just as much horniness as it does desperation, the pain of your cock straining against the cage, just like mine is being smashed in my cage.

But we dare not be found this way. Our Sirs are expecting us to be ready shortly, so we break the kiss. First, we fit into our mouths the football mouth guards. They have an opening for easy breathing but also fill our mouths. I am sure we are going to end up drooling on ourselves eventually. We are going to be a mess before this is over.

I hand you the masks I found online. Full face snorkel masks. When I showed you these earlier, I could tell how intrigued you were with these, especially because of the odd snorkel attached to the mask, jutting from the top like a unicorn horn pointing backwards. It takes some getting used to but once on breathing in air through the nose and exhaling from the mouth becomes natural. Ducts and rubber fittings keep the nose and mouth separated, ensuring air will never come a problem.

Ffitting the masks in place with our mouth guard stuffed mouths requires some adjustments. We must be ready for wearing these for the next few hours. Once the bondage is set there is no turning back.

We embrace, standing in the center of the room, under the uprights of the wooden frame holding the wench and sling, the latter of which is hanging to the side of the cage to make room for us in the center. We embrace as we were ordered to a few minutes ago. Grinding our junk together, driving our horniness up even though all we feel is some pressure, no real relief. Our arms are wrapped around each other, booted feet side by side.

The red lights of the playroom really set the mood as we stare at each other, separated by two plastic face masks and only about an inch of distance total. We are close enough that to look at each other means staring into each other’s eyes. We both are feeling desperate from being locked all week, anticipating this moment. Your eyebrows arch, a sign of more desperation. I would feel bad for the torment if I wasn’t also feeling it, also moaning through my gagged mouth. I grind my caged cock into you more.

Just as I was considering breaking orders and reaching for your nips rather than stay wrapped around you, I hear the sliding glass door open. Our Sir’s have decided it is time to get started. They are both in their rubber gear. My Sir is in his new rubbers, his first custom gear. Latex polo. Latex jeans. Grinder boots. Gleaming blue accent stripes, lacing and socks. He is Skin Sir.

Your Sir is waring a rubber tank, tall rubber waders and a well-worn jock. He has an intoxicating smell to him, and I was grateful for the chance to bury my snout in his pits after handing him his first beer earlier. Taking a cue from my Sir, you do the same to his pits at the same time. That was pig heaven earlier. Now, when they enter the room the faint smell of their funk, their cigars, their drinks, filters through the snorkel housed on top of our masks, but only ever so slightly. Not enough for us bondage/scent pigs, yet enough to keep the pressure on our locked cocks.

“Good boys.” I love the look of satisfaction in your eyes on hearing those words. Luckily for us we both know the value of being told we are good boys by them. It is likely the only true relief we are going to feel tonight.

“Get in close, pigs” We embrace ourselves as close as we can.

Skin Sir pulls put the plastic tape rolls. They are used for wrapping up moving boxes, with a handle that lets the 6 inch wide plastic wrap flow easily. While Wader Sir holds the plastic against one of your shoulders, Skin Sir begins to wrap the plastic around your other shoulder, over to mine and around my back, pulling it taunt.

Once the plastic wrap has reached its start point and begins to cling to itself, our Sirs have a base to build on. Working together to pass the roller back and forth; it is only a minute before we find ourselves completely wrapped around our upper bodies. Our embrace is now permanent.

While this close our ability to see the Sirs as they work is very limited. Now that we can’t separate our chests it is nearly impossible to pull our masks away from each other, the flat front of these masks are now effectively stuck together. While our eyes dart to the side to catch a glimpse of our Sirs working on our bondage, we return often to just staring at each other. Our eyes perfectly communicating our shared anticipation and excitement and nervousness.

Both Sirs continue to do an amazing job wrapping us in the plastic, ensuring nothing is so tight that it will become a problem later and that we have enough room to breathe into our chests. Still snug enough that each pass of plastic around both our bodies lock us together into one toy for their amusement. It is getting quite warm, which further highlights the slight breeze across the space they are leaving at our asses, ensuring no access is limited there. The crisscross of the wrap they are doing while leaving the ass exposed has resulted in a lot of wrap going everywhere else on our midsection and hips. Then the wrapping of the legs leaves us only with a little ability to shift, but lets us keep our balance well enough. Our booted feet will keep us in place, yet still our legs are quite secure. When the last of the wrap is placed around our ankles, we are completely stuck together.

“You secure, pigs?” We struggle, eyes locked as the wriggling causes our cocks to push into each other, bringing no relief, only more horniness we can do nothing about. They chuckle at our helplessness. They are not done.

We feel a new strand of the plastic wrap starting again, this time at our heads. Now the intensity ramps up. I wonder if you are feeling the electric touch of my skin like I am feeling on yours. The plastic is flying around our heads now, with each pass our world begins to become just us in here, cut off from the outside world, only a faint glow of the red lights and the shadows of Sir’s arm as he wraps over and over. Soon our only connection to the outside world is through the snorkel jutting out the top of our masks, our entire heads and necks now covered and wrapped in layers of clear plastic.

The plastic warps the sounds of the Sir’s talking, and really the sound of our moaning and whimpering how now been amplified in the echo chamber we are now in. There is nothing else to look at but each other when we hear that sound every bondage pig craves.

The first strand of duct tape being pulled off the roll.

What a sound duct tape makes. It isn’t like any other. Even with our moaning filling our senses, and the crinkling of the plastic wrap as we continue to uselessly struggle in the bondage, the vibrating sound of a long strand of duct tape being pulled then cut into long strips is still clear as a bell. I didn’t think that I could get harder in this chastity cage, but each time Sir pull a strip off the roll I get harder. Agony.

I have seen those mummifications that are so smooth, so perfect in their placement that it looks like brushed metal. No ripples, the seams aligned and flatted perfectly. Nothing is hornier than some of the art created by a perfect mummification.

Nothing hornier except this. The Sir are not going for perfection. They are laying each piece on us carefully, but quickly. Somehow, I can feel their desire to get us fully wrapped in the tape and plastic, making our prison firmer and more confining. They are ready to play, each strip going on faster and faster. Each strand is wrapped around us, and we are continually getting more and more confined. They don’t need perfection and smooth lines. Neither do I. I need cock.

In no time we are fully wrapped from the neck down. Now I am regretting the chastity. I wish they would have unlocked our cocks before the bondage. I know you do too. I can hear how your moans now has more desperation, pitched higher; our moans sound more like pleas. That is just going to make their cocks that much harder.

There is the sound of a flick in the background, soon followed by a waft of cigar smell entering our world through our lifeline at the top of our heads. Wader Sir is lighting two cigars for them to enjoy while Skin Sir begins to wrap more tape around our heads, starting at our necks and working up. Our inability to see much of anything other than the red light is becoming dimmer as each strip is added. There is only a soft red glow coming from the side of the mask when a strip goes around the tops of our ears. The next strip taking even that away.

I know I can still see your eyes staring back at me, though we are now plunged into darkness as the last strips are placed on the top of our heads. Completely enveloped other than the bottoms of our feet planted firmly on the floor. The snorkels are our only connection to the outside world. I can hear your breathing pick up, feel your chest starting to heave more as the reality of our situation sits in. I have to purposefully breathe deep to remind you to do the same. We must accept where we are because They demand this of us. And we are meant to give it. You begin to calm by taking deep breathes too.

There is a magical feeling that is hard to describe until you experience it. Any cigar pig knows that the smoke has substance. You can feel it wash over you. It isn’t just the blowing, the moving of the air. The silky feel of the smoke caressing as it rolls over the skins feels like nothing else. When Skin Sir directs a big cloud onto my ass, directly onto my hole, I can see the smoke in my minds eye. Its hard not to slump as I give into the pleasure, instead I can only drool and listen to your long drawn-out moan as you feel a cloud from Wader Sir’s cigar gently flow over your ass. The air coming into our masks is sweet and musky and earthy. Heaven.

With both jump at the same time, a jolt running through us as their bearded mugs are roughly buried into our ass, their cigar flavored tongues driving right to our cleaned-out holes. We carefully bathed and douched earlier so that the Sirs could dine on pig ass with their beers and cigars. They are ravenous. Their beards are all over our holes and ass, they chew on our cheeks, they drive into us, opening us up.

Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, they are gone. We both are left alone as they stand and pull away, puffing on their cigars when we suddenly feel the cold wetness on our holes from their lubed fingers. Even more lube is applied just before they push in butt plugs into each of us. I push back, grateful for the plug filling my hole. Perhaps I will get the sexual satisfaction my cock can’t give me. When the plug is seated I feel closer then I have to some feeling of horniness being satiated, but only a little. There is no way I can cum from just this plug. This is worse torment, getting slightly closer but still too far.

New sounds are coming from outside as we are left there, wrapped in layers of tape and plastic, in darkness, caged and plugged. This sound of them enjoying each other. They are moaning loudly as they make out, chewing on each other while we are ignored and left helpless. The tape and plastic muffles almost too much of the sound, and we have to be quiet to hear it. And we desperately want to hear them enjoying each other.

I can’t tell who is getting sucked now, but the unmistakable sound of lips on cock and balls is happening. I am fairly certain Skin Sir is giving Wader Sir the kind of blow job that he is an expert at. I hope to be as good of a cock sucker as he is someday, and the sounds of Wader Sirs growl is growing now from the feeling of Skin Sir’s throat on the shaft, all the way to the base. I am sure that Skin Sir is going to take him to the edge then stop. He has other plans for that load.

The bondage, the horniness, the helplessness, it begins to create that floating feeling that can come from being completely under someone else’s control. I am losing track of time, and the sounds of the Sirs pleasuring each other blend together. I can’t tell who is sucking who. Who is biting who. Who is driving the other to growls and grunts. It goes on so long. They keep edging themselves on each other, building their ecstasy over and over, then backing off in time for them to switch. They are turning each other into animals.

And we are prey.

The shock of the poppers into our masks comes out of nowhere, and suddenly I am back in the moment. Briefly. I can tell they are holding the poppers at our intakes, the fresh bottles wafting a cloud through the snorkel and into our noses. I instinctively take deep breaths as I feel everything relax. Just as Skin Sir hoped, because he then pulls the plug out of me with ease.

I know what comes next. Part of my submission lately is admitting to Sir how much I crave his cock in me. Another cloud of cigar smoke and poppers enters my sightless world, my horniness for Sir’s cock causes me to growl in pleasure, a pathetic muffled growl from my gagged mouth. I hear you drawing in a big breath and moan too. We are being prepared.

I feel Skin Sirs rubber covered body press into my tape-wrapped back as he begins to shove his cock into me. My hole already loosened from the plug takes his thick cock easily, filling me up. His piercing is pushed into my prostate. I love it. I need it. You are pushed into me more as Wader Sir enters you.

They both start slow, or as slow as they manage. Really they are in a state of mind that is far beyond reason. They growl. They grunt. They want to fuck. They want to pound us. And we are powerless to stop them from taking what is rightfully theirs anyway. Time slips away as they slowly pound into us over and over, working together to ensure each hip thrust they drive in results in the biggest impact possible. Building up, harder and faster.

I can tell when Sir is getting close. He starts to get loud. He starts to fuck faster. He starts to lose all control, but that is an illusion. He is still in control when he and Wader Sir suddenly pull out. Our whimpers are barely out of our throats when just as suddenly we are both filled again.

They switched! Wader Sir is in me! For the first time ever. He quickly is pounding me as hard as Skin Sir is pounding you. I feel drool leaking from the mask, mixing on our chest with the layer of sweat we are both swimming in. It isn’t long before my hands and arms are able to move within the prison, the sweat winning over the friction of our skin. It allows me to drop my hands down to the side of your ass. The ripple of your checks as Skin Sir drives into you over and over only adds to the horniness of Wader Sir pounding me right now.

Suddenly they switch again. They fuck us again as hard and fast as they want. Their animal sides are coming out more and more as they get close and then deny themselves, switching the holes they are using after each edge. The are so close to coming they are howling each time they stop themselves from coming. I can’t tell any longer which cock is in me.

Somehow what little grinding of our caged cocks we are managing to experience while we get pounded is actually getting me close. A tiny amount of our cock heads are being pushed through the edges of the cage. Each thrust of our Sir’s cocks into us is causing that tiny little patch of our dick heads to rub together. It feels so good, so intense. All that energy and force from their cocks resulting in one tiny point where I dicks can touch.

I have always marveled at and appreciated Skin Sir’s ability to time his orgasm. Numerous times he has gotten us both off at the exact same time. But hearing them build each other up is amazing to experience. I can hear how close they are, ready to pop. They are screaming as their cocks slide up into us over and over and over, until finally they both drive up into our asses as far as they can go. A primal scream of pleasure bellowing out of their throats in unison.

I think it is Skin Sir’s cock that is filling my ass. Blast after blast going deeper and deeper into me. I am straining against my bonds, against you as much as I can, every ounce of pleasure is being consumed in the one tiny part of my cockhead that is touching yours through the cages. We are both moaning through our gags, the sound of desperation tearing through the air.

Out of nowhere I shoot, my cum covering your caged cock. And then so do you. You start shooting on me.

Desperately clinging to each other as we ride this incredible wave given by our first anal orgasm. We are as one in this prison, sharing every experience. The feeling of confinement is giving way to anticipating getting out. I hope they pull out of us and grab the safety sheers now.

Unfortunately, the sounds of our cumming have kept their cocks hard, and our holes have been spasming around their shafts as we shake and squirm through our cumming. Now with our struggles to be free. I moan in true desperation when I feel Sir begin to slowly pull out and then suddenly thrust back in. I don’t think I can take this now. I know I don’t have a choice.

I can feel you getting pounded again too.

Now we are truly fucked.

 

Metal would like to thank Sparky for this story and welcome him to the Prison Library!