The low groan of the forced release of sexual repression issued out from behind the gag as the spikes burrowed their blunt tips into my sensitive parts that were currently yearning to break past the cage’s embrace.
John just sat beside me, watching, observing. Every now and then he would reach out and stroke my head with his gloved hand. This only succeeded in kicking my clouded mind in to overdrive. The animalistic response was purely instinctual in nature, as I pushed back against his hand with my head; much like a cat would, in an attempt to show my appreciation for his attention.
Then all of a sudden, it ended as quickly as it began.
John stood up and took the filter with him, the fog in my head slowly lifted as I became increasingly aware of the burning fire in my crotch. I began to thrash around and complain in muffled grunts against my gag. John just chuckled to himself as he turned his attentions back to the mass of wires he had brought in earlier.
From sheer pleasure to burning pain… He controlled what I felt and how I felt it. This was beyond being restrained, being captured. I was beginning to see that being locked down to this bed in this cell was only the beginning of the trials I was to face that he only knew the end to… if such an end existed.
I craned my head to the side to watch my rubber clad captor work.
Every two wires that he pulled off the pile before him, he draped across my body. His attention was at his task. I was but prey within his trap, all but insignificant at the moment, for I as subdued, not going anywhere, a meal to be eaten at a later time.
Being the fact that I had never done anything more than read about this stuff online the thought of accepting the actuality of electrical jolts throughout my body seemed similar to a driver with only a learners permit attempting to pilot a vehicle upon the autobahn. In other words… Insane.
I grunted a vote of descent against John’s plan, and attempted to pull away, as he began to connect the wires to the suit. Straining against the straps as best as I could I started to form an assessment of the situation from within the limiting view of the lenses of the mask sealed upon my face. I began making note of all the areas over which the electrical connectors were visible: Biceps, Triceps, Deltoids, Quads, Pecs, and Abs… My mind halted in its tracks as I suddenly calculated exactly what I had just noticed… There were connections for the wires over my Pecs?… Over my heart?… Was he fucking crazy?
As he connected the wires above my pectorals I freaked and thrashed against the straps in a feudal attempt to stop him. John pulled out the remote box and hit my nuts with an electrical jolt, but this time even that did not deter me. I was kicked into a blind panic, for in my mind I was fighting for my life.
John calmly crawled up upon my writhing screaming form and sat down on my abdomen. Leaning over the edge of the bed he pulled a small brown zippered case from an unknown location and sat it on my chest. Leaning in he snagged my chin with his left hand, and grabbed the side of the mask with his right, keeping me from wrestling my head from his grasp. He sighed heavily as the dark lenses of his mask looked directly into my eyes; “Must we do everything the hard way?”
He tossed my head aside as I recoiled back screaming profanities into my gag. He just ignored me and slowly unzipped the case that sat before him. If I thought I was in a panic before, I was not prepared for the metal body of the hypodermic syringe that entered into my field of vision from within the confines of the case.
I started shaking my head no, pleading into my gag, attempting against futility to communicate the fact that I would be good, I would behave, anything but that. John was not swayed from his task as he pulled the small vial out from its spot in the case and punctured its cap with the tip of the needle.
As he drew back the plunger he spoke as if he were speaking to the syringe, as if I were not even in the room, the sound in his voice belayed the beginnings of irritation. I knew as he spoke that this was not a good thing. “You are mine now; you do not dictate to me anything! Your training is whatever I decide your training is going to be.” With this he pulled the needle back out of the vial, positioned it above the lens on my mask and pushed on the plunger ever so slightly just so a few drops of the sweet nectar held within splashed against the mask. Every drop drove the icy cold sting of fear deeper in to my bones.
He laid the needle down at the top of the bed, and with the left thumb of his gloved hand he streaked fluid across the glass covering my right eye. His voice took a tone of empathy as cocked his head to the side and continued to speak as he began to stroke my head. “I know at this point that that suit is filling up with sweat, and that gag is beginning to get a bit uncomfortable on your jaw. By the time we are finished with this lesson, that suit shall be flooded and your jaw will feel like its ready to fall off. That is best case scenario for you, do you understand? I will not hesitate to teach you respect along the way.”
My eyes were glued to the hypodermic that sat just above my on the bed. I had no Ideas what it contained, or if he would actually use it on me or not. Frankly I really did not wish to find out either. I closed my eyes slowly and nodded my head in consent. Letting him know I understood, all too well.
With that he climbed off and continued connecting the wires.
Every connection that he hooked up over a major muscle group brought a deeper level of trepidation to my mind as all I could do was watch in fear and issue high pitched terrified grunts of protest in to my gag from time to time. This only seemed to please him more as he continued on his task unswayed, and unnervingly unconcerned.
Every online electro play forum’s warnings that I had ever read haunted my tortured mind as I pleaded into my gag hoping that he would understand what I was saying. Begging he would heed the warnings and not make me another statistic for others to read about. I was beside myself; panic singed the edges of my consciousness and threatened to take over again as the tears cooled my hot cheeks.
As he connected the last of the wires he turned his masked face towards mine and began to speak. “Trust… Whether you like it or not this is one thing that you shall learn.” With that he slapped me on the chest, and began connecting the other ends of the wires to a black box that he set up on a stool next to the bed.
My whole body shuttered at the thoughts that this was moving forward with or without me on board. Completely at a loss for any other way to respond to this news I began to hyperventilate. This was answered quickly by the removal of my air. Realizing I was in no position to continue to fight I did my best to relax, and begged to the best of my ability through the gag filling my mouth.
He just chucked to himself as he reopened the valve on the hose and tossed it across my chest. As I inhaled deeply I could hear him mumbling something about Surface to mass ratio and relative electricity needed to achieve his goals. This still had very little effect on me; all my preconceived notions were barraging my senses with foreshadowed warnings of extreme danger.
Biting down on the gag I opened my mouth as wide as I could in an attempt to speak around it. Yet all my boiled up courage issued itself out as a half intelligible defeatist whisper of “Please.”
This seemed to get his attention as he stopped fiddling with the box and turned his mask in my direction. “Bottom line,” He said as he walked over and cupped the chin of my masked head in his hand. “If you don’t like it I would get up and leave.”
With a light chuckle to himself he went on to explain that the little black box that he set on a stool next to the bed was a creature of his own design. It was always on, always watching. It functioned on a random number generator that would pick a number between one and ten.
He set me on the number three, which he called ‘his lucky number’. John told me that every 30 seconds the program would kick in, kind of like rolling the dice. It would keep running every 30 seconds, and every time my number came up the box would run its electrical cycle.
Once it was done, the random number generator would begin again, and again every 30 seconds past that point.
“It doesn’t need sleep so why should you?” he chuckled as he flipped the switch on the box and began fiddling with the dials.
This was when we began a process that John called ‘setting the levels’ where basically he seemed to take great pleasure causing as much pain to different muscle groups of my body one by one. Every time I got to the point on a setting that my muscles felt like they were ready to tear apart and I was screaming in to the gag he seemed satisfied and would move on to the next group.
This went on for what seemed like an eternity… Then finally he was done.
In just a few loads he gathered up all of his tools, and extra equipment. Once he was done he sat down on the bed and picked the syringe back up from beside my head. “Sometimes in life control can be taken by nothing more than a mere suggestion, a thought, and idea. All it takes is the person you are trying to persuade to believe what you are telling them. Our government does it all the time; psychology is very effective, as has been proven time and time again.”
John aimed the needle towards the wall and depressed the plunger, spraying a thin stream of liquid on the black PVC cover; “This, was nothing more than mere water. Truly harmless for sure, but it only took you believing it was a threat to you to be effective.” He flung the empty syringe across the room where is stuck in the opposite wall as he began adjusting the dials on the black box a bit higher form the ‘levels’ we had just set.
“This on the other hand is a threat to you. If you don’t understand that you will shortly. It will not care if you beg, it will not care if you plead. It is but an emotionless box that will complete its task even if it has to drag you upon the path behind it. This is a good lesson for you. Life is not fair, and in this house this is especially true. Long ago you told me that you wanted to be a rubber slave so now you have your wish. No fantasy, no safe words, no outs. It shall be a long and arduous path for you, and I shall walk beside you the whole way, yet I shall never let you falter. You have chosen a hard life, some day I imagine you will come to love me and respect me. At this point though I imagine you are going to hate my guts, and I can live with that.”
John stroked me head once more with his gloved hand, as he turned towards the box, flipped the on switch, and left the room. I could hear the grinding click of the deadbolt as the box began its first cycle. As the pair seared my senses I wondered how long I would hold up.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
That was an eternity ago…
Even now I could feel the low hum of the machine. My dick pulsated in rhythm to its hypnotic beat. Every so often the power would ramp up to the point I would be screaming for mercy, as every muscle in my body felt like it was set ablaze in a domino succession of painful spasms,
Sometimes it would strike once, sometimes multiple times in a row only to wind back down and lurk in wait for its next opportunity.
I am amazingly tired. It is as if the machine knew. For every time I drifted off I am shocked back out. I have cried, I have laughed, I have screamed…but machines know no mercy. I have no idea how much longer I can hold on.
My joints were sore from the muscle spasms every time the box ramped. Thick layer of sweat pooled up between the heavy layers of rubber and my skin gave me the idea that I had been here quite a few hours.
Panic had long since subsided, and so had the fight, once it set in that I truly was not getting away, and acceptance of my situation began to materialize. I had since moved on to slipping faith in myself. Forced to physically endure was one thing, but mental acceptance was another.
Everything I have known, my life, my identity had been taken from me by force. By now Dave had already long since landed at the airport, and perhaps he was looking for me, but somehow I doubted that.
Even if he was, where would he look, and as I lifted my head and shook it slightly to jostle the bead of sweat that had found its way into my eye, I started to wonder if I really wanted to be found. Confusion laced the clash of my two worlds, emotions raged in tides of change as I was forced to face inner daemons that I had kept locked away for so long.
Yet as I felt the bite of the straps through my soft rubber outer-skin, and listened to the metronomic clicking of my breathing competing with the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears, I started to question the meaning of freedom.
Freedom is a fickle beast. We are all search for it in some form or another, yet is what we seek truly what we want? Must we be captive to truly be free?
* * * * * * * * * * * *
It was at the point that I felt that I could take no more, perched on the edge of oblivion and ready to tumble into the blackness of my own mind, that John returned. He walked up to the side of the bed, crossed his arms, and just stood there before me watching my torment. I moaned a few times weekly into my gag, too tired to do much more
He didn’t react, didn’t budge, he just stood there stoically. His darkened mask hid any hint of emotion behind it, any hint of acknowledgement, any hint of sympathy. I raised my head up and whimpered at him. My edges were frazzled, I needed a warm hand, a touch, understanding of some sort to help me go on; yet all I received was unmoving silence.
Having him stand here next to me offering no aide to my plight was worse than not having him here at all. I could feel the tears welling up within me as my torso began to quiver and my eyes began to water. I was determined to not to allow him the satisfaction of seeing me break down under the strain of the situation. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it as I concentrated on regulating my breathing to calm myself down.
My head cleared a bit as I could feel the pressure on my chest ease up. It probably would have worked too if John had not pulled out a remote and pointed it at the black box causing it to ramp up higher than it had hit me previously.
The shock took my breath away, and just like a child on the playground that had been slugged in the stomach by the neighborhood bully, my world cracked. My head slammed back down into the soft padding of the bed, and as I caught my breath I proceeded to lose it once again. My cries echoed out through the padded room. I shook so hard my inhalations shook with me.
Everything about my situation reminded me of truly how vulnerable I was and drove me deeper into my distress. As I contemplated the gag in my mouth blocking my sobs, my inability to cover my own face in shame, and the fact that John remained above me with his arms crossed watching my embarrassment grow ever more prevalent I summoned the last of my strength in an attempt to wage one final feudal attempt to halt this progression in its tracks.
Throwing myself against the straps as hard as I could I bucked and fought, and I screamed. For about thirty seconds I kept this up, and then it just all stopped. An eerie calm passed over me as my breathing was issued out in short huffs. My body took a bit to catch up to the truth that my brain already knew.
As my gaze once again met up with the darkened lenses on his mask I could feel dams bursting inside of me. My mouth began to quiver around the gag as my emotions regrouped and burst forth from me in a torrent that overtook my soul. I was no longer in control, not even of my own tears. I was helpless to stop them, only capable of riding them out as they crashed against the rocks of my senses.
For the very first time I allowed myself to feel and accept the control of another. To finally let go of that ledge I had grasped onto for dear life for so long. I closed my eyes tight and embraced the new sensations as they hit me. It didn’t take me long to realize that John was embracing me as well.
…And as he held me as I continued to cry I realized, for the first time in my life, things felt right.