I had worked at home all day Sunday, still geared up in full rubber from the night before as Matt instructed. I was trying to complete the projects due at work so that I could take the planned vacation the following week, for Matt’s 5-day marathon “training session.” The constant checking in with Matt over the webcam throughout the day, to ensure him that I remained totally encased and sealed in rubber, hadn’t deterred me from my work, but the building intensity of my horniness had. Now, sitting at my computer, typing rather well in spite of the rubber gloves, I was acutely aware of my posture, which suddenly seemed to enhance the skintight encapsulation squeezing my biceps and pecs and bathing me in sweat. I got up from my desk chair and flounced on my back on the bed. The plug in my ass shifted enough to remind me of its continued presence, my rubber-capped cock expanded with a weird sensation, attempting to drive itself through the chastity pod, and I moaned loudly through the gag. I ran my hands up and down my body and felt the tight rubber, packed with bulging muscle. I couldn’t take it anymore! I had to do something for relief! I positioned my left arm under me, with my hand between my rubber-sealed ass cheeks, and pushed my fingers into my ass crack... I lifted my right leg and angled it across my body, cradling it with my arm, and pushed my foot toward my face. I felt like I was engaging in some kinky rubber version of yoga. The feel of my leg muscles and the sexy shape of my rubber-encased foot were hot, and the fucking sensation of the plug jamming against my prostate gave me some satisfaction. The wide ball and sole of my foot, stretching the rubber as I wiggled my toes, looked incredibly sexual as my eyes feasted on its shape through the lattice work of pinholes in my hood. The heat, sweat, and snug fit of the latex as I contorted my muscles produced an intense wave of ecstasy. I scrunched forward, increasing the pressure against the plug, and tried to push my foot into my face. I had the urge to rip off the hood and gag to try to lick my foot, but, instead, I let go and collapsed backward into the mattress and pillows. The sudden stabbing pain in my cock thwarted me. Fuck! This horniness was maddening. I had to clear my mind of it. I lay there, convincing myself that I had to give up this crazy arrangement with Matt, that I would go out of my mind if I didn’t, until I thought I heard the familiar zing, faintly through the hood, and jumped up. I was right. Matt’s pager had appeared on the computer monitor:
RBRDOM: Time for check in, slave. No image visible in the webcam. Where the fuck are u?
I sat down and began typing.
rbrslv: Sir, it is here, Sir
I shifted around in the chair, into full view of the webcam.
RBRDOM: That’s better. Is it looking forward to its incarceration starting next weekend?
rbrslv: Sir, going crazy with horniness, Sir
RBRDOM: I’m pleased that it is horny. Don’t expect relief anytime soon!
(I groaned loudly inside my hood.)
rbrslv: can’t stand it, Sir. cock hurts, Sir.
RBRDOM: it will get used to that. u’ll be kept encased and frustrated from now on, count on it.
(More groaning inside my hood.)
rbrslv: right, Sir.
RBRDOM: Did it study the pictures I sent?
rbrslv: yes, Sir. is that rubber dog for real, Sir?
RBRDOM: Yes, very real. The pic is from last night. The slave belongs to a Master who is a friend of mine.
I squirmed in my seat and clenched the butt plug, despite the unpleasant sensation within the chastity pod. I wanted to know more.
rbrslv: Sir, how long did the slave stay that way?
RBRDOM: I’m not sure. Knowing how my friend’s mind works, the slave could still be that way right now :-)
rbrslv: hard to believe SIR.
RBRDOM: not at all. When we left the Master’s house late last night, the slave was sleeping, still sealed in the dog suit and locked in its box.
rbrslv: Sir, what if the slave asks to be let out?
RBRDOM: The gag keeps him silenced. It’s unlikely his Master would respond anyway unless there was an emergency of some sort. The slave has been taught it has no choice in such matters.
rbrslv: Sir, it seems pretty extreme.
RBRDOM: heavy duty slaves like him are rare. he has the type of endurance I want in a slave. u’ll understand better after ur next training session.
I felt painful throbbing within the confined space of the chastity pod. My cock was totally intrigued by Matt’s sexual appetite, but my rational mind continued to question the sanity of it.
rbrslv: have doubts Sir.
A long stretch of seconds, maybe a minute, passed. I wondered if Matt had decided not to respond, and my fingers were poised over the keyboard, ready to send him another instant message, when a fairly long response finally appeared.
RBRDOM: Well, we can chat more about all of this later. I am signing off for the night. u can remove whatever gear is necessary for food and bathroom tonight, but otherwise u should suit up again for bed and stay as u are now until it’s time for work tomorrow morning. Since u’r so interested in the rubber dog slave, u have permission to page its Master. He is online right now – MrRoss.
I typed “Night, Sir” and clicked send, but Matt had already signed off. Heightened by the combination of horniness and skepticism in my mind, the curiosity I had was stronger than my need to finally, if only temporarily, get out of some of my rubber gear. I decided to stay online and page Matt’s friend. I added his name to my buddy list, which indicated he was still signed on. As I hesitated for several seconds, trying to decide what to type, I felt a new flux of hot sweat under the tight hood covering my scalp. How should I introduce myself? Matt’s friend? Slave? Unexpectedly, I noticed a renewed sense of awareness of my encapsulated state, and the unlikely path my life seemed about to follow flashed in my mind in the form of an anonymous male form encased in rubber from head to toe. I felt confused and ridiculous and horny.
The new perspiration increased, encompassing my face, as I decided against offering any explanations of my identity. I typed.
rbrslv: how is your slave doing, Sir?
About a minute passed with no reply. Waiting, I sat still and stewed in the heat and sweat. My bowel felt uncomfortable and my bladder full. I shifted to one side, relieving some pressure of the plug as gas escaped around it. Staring at the computer screen, I was about to give up and log off when I noticed the response come through.
MrRoss: Fine. He’s a good pig.
I typed quickly, and he responded immediately this time.
rbrslv: where is he now?
MrRoss: Down in the dungeon. He was very tired from the weekend, so I put him to “bed” early.
rbrslv: is he tied up?
MrRoss: always
rbrslv: and he does okay that way?
MrRoss: Sure. He is a rubber bondage pig.
rbrslv: How can he stay healthy tied up all the time?
MrRoss: He does not live with me (yet). When he’s here, I release him for short breaks, to keep his blood circulating, sometimes with exercise on my treadmill, but the break periods are not allowed that often and are usually very brief and strictly supervised.
rbrslv: Doesn’t seem like enough to stay fit.
MrRoss: He works out heavily between visits to me.
rbrslv: How often does he visit?
MrRoss: On most weekends he is here. Sometimes extended weekends like this one.
rbrslv: Aren’t there physical problems with being restrained all the time?
MrRoss: No. He gets lots of vitamins and daily aspirin, to prevent blood clots forming while he is immobile for long periods. I also ensure he stays hydrated and nourished, with liquids mostly, while he is here.
I was intrigued by the realistic, matter-of-fact nature of Ross’s ‘articulate’ explanations and his humor.
rbrslv: How does he piss and shit when he’s tied up all the time?
MrRoss: I have total control of his bodily functions. The specific arrangements depend on my mood. His ass is often plugged. With adequate flushing and dietary restrictions, he can go for 2-3 days without passing solid waste. In the dungeon, his diet consists mostly of liquids and protein drinks. Sometimes he is catheterized. In any case, as I’m sure you know, rubber encapsulation seals the slave in with his own bodily excretions.
rbrslv: doesn’t he get lonely or bored down there in the dungeon all by himself?
MrRoss: YGTBK
rbrslv: Sorry. Stupid question, I guess.
MrRoss: He is a fucking bondage pig!
rbrslv: That’s the part I’d like to know more about.
MrRoss: All I can say is that he satisfies many of my needs as a Top, and he keeps coming back for more. I know he is used to being in bondage and rubber for long periods and would not return if he didn’t like it. Over time, I’ve increased the degree and period of restraint to limits that please me. There are some areas where he still needs work, IMAO
rbrslv: what if he wants to be released? What if there’s a fire?
MrRoss: If he really needed to be released on demand he wouldn’t be here. And, I have a sprinkler system. Aren’t you going to ask about earthquakes? Floods?
(I smiled under the hood.)
rbrslv: :-) You have all the bases covered, I guess. Is he still in the dog suit?
MrRoss: No.
I was concerned that I was asking too many questions, or questions that were too stupid, but my desire to know more about Ross and his slave persisted.
rbrslv: am I asking too many questions?
MrRoss: No, not at all. I am enjoying your questions. Plus, I like Matt. You need to learn to address your superiors properly, however.
Under the rubber hood, I could feel the heat of embarrassment on my face, but my drive to find out more seemed more important than figuring out why I felt self-conscious.
rbrslv: Sir, how long did you keep him in the dog suit last night?
MrRoss: About 16 hours. Matt instigated it.
Incredulous and forgetting my manners, I typed quickly.
rbrslv: and your slave’s okay?
MrRoss: Of course. He’s fine. Very submissive and quiet when I released him. Obviously feeling achy and stiff. The dog suit is fairly new. It is tough on his knees and elbows after a few hours. The eventual goal is at least 24 hours, but it may take a few more sessions to work up to that.
rbrslv: Sir, what situation is he in now?
About a minute passed with no response. My feet and hands seemed to have heated up during our chat, and I was uncomfortably aware of their coating of sweat under the tight latex encasement. All at once, I wanted to log off and extract myself from the rubber suit. Instead, I continued to wait for MrRoss, and then my computer announced, “You have mail” at the same time I noticed my buddy list indicate that MrRoss signed off.
The email consisted of a jpeg attachment with no text. I clicked on the picture and watched it load. Through the small holes of my rubber hood, my eyes scanned the image as I tried to understand the details revealed by the vivid photograph that appeared on my computer screen. Black and chrome colors were illuminated by a bright, white spotlight in addition to the flash of the camera, revealing straps, tethers, and casements bordered by metal that looked like steel. The basement setting revealed a beam and overhead floor supports along with some sort of suspension apparatus and a pulley, both of which were unused. I clicked on the zoom feature to adjust the size and study the photo. The target of the photo was obvious, but what struck me first was that it was surrounded by a large rectangular metal frame, on a platform, to which the frame was attached by metal supports, arms that looked like they allowed the frame to pivot and change position. Short, multiple straps extended web-like from the frame inward toward its center, where a leather-covered, cocoon-shaped form was suspended by tethers and belts connected to its encasement at innumerable points, from its heavily hooded head, to its tightly packed body and limbs, ending at its toes, indistinguishable within the pouch-like boot that enclosed its feet. At the level of each nipple, small zippers, closed in place, were visible, giving some indication that there was a living being within the complicated web of secure bindings and encasement. If it hadn’t been for my recent experiences with Matt, I wouldn’t have believed there was a real person inside the hanging, mummified form within the frame. “Fuck,” I muttered to myself through my gag. Knowing that Ross’s slave had not only really been in there when the photo was taken but was still rigged up that way, and would be for the entire night, amazed me. In addition, I was impressed by the extremity of the whole situation: the basement context and elaborate setup, with its multiple fastenings and uncompromising restraint. Ross and his slave were definitely serious about their mutual pursuit. I looked closely at the slave’s head. At first the hood appeared to have no openings, but closer inspection showed a small tube at the mouth. I wondered if there were nose holes. Even so, the slave’s head looked totally sealed, and I wondered if he could breathe. I was intrigued by the perversity and severity of the bondage fetish portrayed in the photo, but I was struck most by the deep reservoir of trust and commitment represented by the circumstances depicted.
Lost in thought, I stared at the photo for several more minutes. What level of trust did Matt and I have? I wasn’t sure. With the old Matt, my beautiful blond bottom, I would have had no doubts. But I still didn’t feel I knew or understood the new Matt, this emotionally distant Top who wanted to keep me rubberized, bound, and under his control. I composed an email to him, telling him I was uncertain about proceeding with our plans, sent it, and logged off.
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