Your Destination Is on the Right

By Jaybird

“Your destination is on the right.” I turned into the alley and followed it back to the little parking lot behind the building, noting the side door as I drove past it. My heart was racing. This is stupid, again, said one voice. But it was silenced by the anticipation. Yes, I was very cautious — to the point where I likely turned down a lot of real opportunities. Yes, we had chatted back and forth for a couple of hours last night and today. Yes, there were no red flags. But yes, I had never met him. Still, I took a deep breath and proceeded.

It was dark, the streets were deserted in this little rural town. I took everything out of my pockets and dropped them into the center console of the car, everything but the car key. Looking at my watch, I had plenty of time, about 40 minutes or so. My watch then went into the console along with the phone. Exhale. Grab the plastic grocery bag with my “stuff” in it, get out of the car and walk to the door.

As we agreed, it was unlocked. I let myself in, closing and locking the door behind me. I was in the back room of a small retail storefront. There was enough light to see, but that was really it. I oriented myself a bit, based on what we had exchanged in chat. To my right was something interesting for the back of a retail store – a semi-walled off area with a large leather covered bed — a playspace, I assume. Cool. Then, straight ahead, stairs to the basement. That’s where I am supposed to go. I descend.

The ceiling was maybe 7 feet high. Concrete. The floor was concrete. The walls were bare cinder block. There was a small construction type floodlight on the floor, so I could see just fine.

On the end wall were four embedded eyebolts, with fresh concrete powder on the floor beneath them. He had done this just for me. They were two up close to the ceiling, maybe a bit over 5 feet apart. Then two more near the floor, a bit closer together… though not much.

Working methodically now… I took off my shoes, socks, t-shirt, undid my belt, jeans off, then my briefs. Naked. Next, I dumped out the contents of my grocery bag. I put the cuffs on my ankles, then my wrists. Now things get tricky. I knew how I was supposed to end up, but getting myself into that position took some planning. The trick was to be able to reach everything I needed as I systematically reduced my mobility.

OK…First, I hung the open padlocks on the rings near the ceiling and kind of tested my reach. Yup, that will work. Standing against the wall, I spread my legs to the width of the anchor points and tried picking up things from the floor. That wasn’t going to work. With my back to the wall, I wouldn’t be able to stand up again. I’m going to have to do it all by feel. Or most of it. First the gag. It was homemade, essentially a horizontal coil of rope wrapped with a shop rag. But it was, first, effective, and second, comfortable enough to wear for a long time. I secured it in place, pulling my chin back as I cinched up the rope behind my neck.

I hooked the carabiners around the lower rings, and the opened padlocks around the upper ones. I hate pretending that I can’t escape, it has to be real, or it doesn’t work for me. I put the little MP3 player and earbuds near my foot where I could find it in a minute.

Blindfold. I had an ace bandage for that, very effective, it feels tight, it doesn’t loosen up or come off. I wrapped it around my head and secured the velcro end in place. Then found the MP3 player. The ear buds went in, then I pressed “play” starting the cacophony of white noise and garbled sounds. I was functionally deaf. Clipped the player to the blindfold. OK, so far, so good.

I secured my left ankle to the ring with the carabiner, but now there was the same problem as before. I could probably get my right ankle secured too, but it would have been difficult, likely impossible, to stand up again. OK, I’d have to compromise a bit.

Left wrist ring… I found the padlock, after a bit of fumbling, managed to lock my left wrist to the eyebolt. Now, one handed… I found the other eyebolt, the padlock, and managed to first get it through the ring on the cuff, then back over the right eyebolt, and finally snap it shut.

Now all I can do is wait. I had come in the door at 6:20, he was supposed to be there “around seven.”

I had no idea how much time had passed, nor how much was passing. I was squirming in my head, visualizing what I must look like to someone else, but I didn’t feel turned on at all. This wasn’t erotic, it was scary vulnerable. I was about as naked as I could be. I was longing for something, feeling alone. Just zoning, turning inward into my own headspace.

I started, took a sharp gasp of air, when a finger touched my right nipple, every so lightly, just a caress, actually. But I was instantly alert as the attention shifted to my other nipple, then both, gently circling them. I was immediately erect, and pulling against my arms, arching my back, trying to get my chest closer to those magic fingers. Then it stopped. A hand cupped my testicles, a hot breath close to my face. Gently, then, my right ankle was pulled to the remaining eyebolt and secured there.

Then nothing. But this is how I wanted it, how I felt it should be. It seemed right somehow. I was zoning again, almost zen. Now, as strange as it seems, I felt safe. My erection subsided, but my brain was still flooded with dopamine.

Again, I started as the fingers returned. I had told him, again and again, just how much my nipples were wired to the deepest, primal parts of my brain, and obviously he had paid attention. I was pulling hard against the cuffs, trying to buck my hips, but of course nothing was touching me below the waist as much as I wanted it. I had told him that too — my dick is the last thing to engage.

“No clothes” is just the first layer. That is “nude” not “naked.” I am nude in the shower. The restriction of freedom is the next. Now it is no longer voluntary. The layer of control has been stripped off. But there are more layers. These, though, are in the mind. And they can be progressively stripped away.

The circling of my nipples went on for minutes. There was no doubt, to anyone watching – and I had no idea if there was an audience or not – that I was turned on. Pretense is impossible when tied up, spread-eagle to a wall, naked, with a raging hard-on. That social shield we hold up, even when nude… gone.

Then it stopped again. I wanted it to continue… so bad. Of course, I couldn’t say anything, just make my frustration obvious. It was reaching that most primal drive, and that was slowly pushing everything else to the side.

In that state, I was no longer forming words in my thoughts, it was just a raw desperate… want. But I didn’t want orgasm. Not yet. That meant he was not yet through all of the layers. I just wanted more… wanting. That layer is a tough one to penetrate, at least in me. Not many get me past this one. Could he?

Now, though, I was rising back up a bit, contemplating again my situation, a mental image of how I must look. Time passes. Is anyone there? I don’t know, there is no sound other than the noise mix I so carefully made so I could not even distinguish voices from outside.

My muscles are getting a bit sore, partly from the stretched-out position, though largely because I have been pulling with all my strength. I try leaning forward a bit, adjusting, maybe finding a more comfortable position. Nope, I have done a good job fulfilling my own fantasy, now I am paying the price.

Again — I emit an involuntary grunt as I am touched. Not my nipples this time, but a hand sliding slowly up the inside of my thigh. I feel it reach back, rounding my glute, then forward as a finger probes me a bit. I squirm, halfway away, but halfway trying to move down into it. Of course, I can’t.

The seeming disembodied hand retreats for a few moments, then returns, only now I feel cold, slippery lube being gently spread, slightly penetrating me. Another layer of sorts, just because now even less pretense is possible with the feeling of violation.

The finger moves away and is replaced by something hard and smooth, a bit cold, metal perhaps, slowly, gently, but relentlessly penetrating me. It isn’t overly large, but there is no ignoring it either. Maybe a bit over an inch in diameter? Then it narrows — ah, a butt plug. I relax into the new sensation as those magic fingers start on my nipples again. Now, though, they are slippery from the lube. That amps up the sensation 3x for some odd reason. I’m pulling hard when the tingle starts inside me. It’s an electrode.

And once again, I am left alone, or at least unaware of anyone’s presence. Only now I am no longer forming any mental picture of myself. There is no fantasy. My attention is totally focused on the pulses that are slowly, but steadily building in strength, then a jolt that has me cry out into the gag and it stops, only for the tingle to begin again.

I learn to anticipate and at least brace myself for the jolt, but there is no stopping the cycle. Again, again, again. Four, five, six, a dozen times, I finally lose count. I just want it to stop… and I don’t.

Then it does. I sag out, arching my back away from the wall, partly thankful for the relief, perhaps to entice those fingers onto my nipples again. But nothing.

How long have I been here? I have no idea. I zone again, as best I can, unable to really relax any muscles, they are starting to ache a bit.

I just want more dopamine.

Again and again, the fingers bring me to the next depth of my primal self, and again and again they stop as I am left in anticipation.

Then they don’t stop. I am so deep I can’t even think in words anymore. Not even “fuck.” The control has shifted – I want nothing but the relief of an orgasm. Please. But it doesn’t come. And neither do I.

Cold, wet on my dick. Lube. I feel myself penetrate something, it feels so tight, so smooth, but so slow. I try to speed things up, bucking my hips, but the pace keeps up. Then fingers on my nipples… at the same time. There is more than one person here. I want it so bad.

Then one stroke too many. Only the gag keeps my involuntary cry from being heard outside, as the waves wash over me. Then, again, it stops. And again, I am alone. Only now the erotic edge is fading fast, and I just become hyper self-conscious that I am standing here naked, secured to a wall. My knees are shaking, the endorphins wearing off, my muscles aching.

Minutes pass. A few? Five? Ten?

I feel a presence again, hands near my head… the sound in my ears stops as the earbuds are unplugged. A quiet voice whispers close to my ear… “Had enough?” I’m torn. I feel awkwardly naked, but it also feels… right. I don’t respond, but the decision is made for me.

One by one my ankles are released from the wall. The right, padlock is unlocked, then the left freeing my hands. I just stand, regaining my balance a bit. Aware again of the plug in my ass. I am still a bit disoriented when I feel hands gently on my shoulders, turning me around, then my hands are so gently, but securely, tied behind my back. I guess it isn’t over.

“Spread your legs,” I comply, and the plug is gently removed.

The hands guide me to the stairs, carefully I feel each step. “Last one,” and I feel the flooring under my feet. A few more steps, then left – into that play space. I am turned, and gently guided to sit, then scoot up onto the bed. They – there are two of them for sure, roll me over onto my belly, and I am quickly hogtied, ankles crossed and cinched up tight, arching my back. I drift into my own headspace again, not sleeping, but only vaguely aware of them. I hear porn playing on the TV.

As total as that orgasm was, slowly I feel the return of desire. With my legs, I am able to roll myself over onto my back, hands tied underneath my ass, ankles cinched up cross-legged style. Almost immediately the caress returns to my nipples, and my erection kind of returns. “Oh, he wants more.” They laugh.

And it begins again.

Metal would like to thank the author, Jaybird, and welcome him to the Prison Library!

You can find the author on Recon under the same name, Jaybird.

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