Time had passed. An hour? Hours? Or just minutes? Marcus wasn’t sure.
He had struggled for a while. But he had given up quite quickly. The chains were painfully tight and had obviously been carefully placed to hold him firmly to the reclining chair. And of course, his wrists had been pulled behind the chair and handcuffed in place. There was a dull ache in his shoulders which was gradually becoming painful. The chair was broad and having his arms pulled behind it and cuffed was placing stress on his upper body. The cuffs dug into his skin. The chain between his cuffed wrists was at full stretch.
He felt a surge of anger inside. He controlled it. He was still feeling slightly queasy from the drink and was desperately thirsty. And he was surprised at how well he was coping with the situation. Although there was still a sense of panic when he thought about how long he may be kept prisoner like this. Surely this was just a joke and would be over soon.
Time passed. All was quiet around him. After a lot of initial laughter from Martin and Adam there was now silence. Where had they gone?
Marcus lay there listening to his own breathing. It was un-naturally loud inside his rubber hood. Each raspy breath was amplified inside his hood. The ballgag inside his mouth was large and solid and wasn’t going anywhere. Despite its size, he was still able to breathe around it. He couldn’t swallow. And saliva was collecting in his mouth and was spilling over his face and down his chin. He had also been sweating and all the moisture inside the rubber hood was collecting and running down his face and neck.
There were obviously air holes in the rubber hood. He could feel them by his nostrils and there must have been some close to his ballgagged mouth. When he breathed in, the rubber clung to his face. This was some perverted shit…
Marcus had a full bladder. He really needed to piss. There was a dull ache in his balls. He felt a sense of shame when he realised that he was still semi-erect. Why was that happening? He tried to shift his body to give comfort to his aching balls. There were chains pulled tight either side his crotch. What the fuck was that all about? And he had the sense of something metal around his balls and around the base of his dick. Again, there was that sense of shame but this time at the thought of his mates handling his dick. This wasn’t right. This was no game. He wanted out.
And then there were the rubber shorts…painfully skintight…riding up his butt…clinging to his cock and balls. He could feel them clinging to his thighs. They felt similar in length to the cycling shorts he wore under his soccer shorts when he had a match. ‘Fuck me’, Marcus thought, ‘I’m the gimp’. He again pulled at his cuffed wrists. Anger began to surge again. And, once again, his cock began to harden.
There was nothing he could do to stop it. It was painful. His hard dick was held in check by the skintight rubber shorts. Held firm against his body. Not allowed to spring free. It continued to grow in size. It was pointing down away from his stomach. Almost at a right angle to his body but pointing slightly down. It was clear to him now that there was some kind of metal ring around the base of his dick. Fuuuuuck sake, this was painful. The ache in his balls became a painful throb. He tried to manoeuvre into a better position but only succeeded in making the chains between his leg dig painfully into his balls. His dick grew even harder, a combination of friction and sweat making it swell even more as it rubbed against the inside of the skintight rubber shorts.
‘Mmmmmmmmmmffff…aaaaaagghhhhh….ggaaaammmmfff’. He tried to call out. The sound he made was unintelligible rubbish. He pulled hard on his chains and cuffs. That hurt. Panic overcame him. He writhed around and felt the chair creak as he struggled. Sweat and drool poured over his face and down the back of his neck. The rubber hood clung to his face. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t take this anymore. The cuffs dug into his wrists. He knew he was hurting himself but he wanted out. Breathing became more and more difficult. The air holes were only small and could only let in a certain amount of air. But the sense of panic continued to grow…
‘HEY, STOP THAT!’
Marcus felt a hand grab his rubber clad balls and squeeze hard…painfully hard
To be continued…
2 Replies to “Story – ‘The Bet’ Part 2 – Repost”
The stories are superb and the choice of photographs inspirational.