Feeling disoriented, I’m here, back at Ross’s computer, ordered by Ross to describe my own personal version of ‘sealed and suffering’ (in other words, how I spent my day). Ross has informed me that he may have me reenact the situation depicted in that story, but I don’t know exactly what he means as I am not permitted time to read it.
He says what I wrote in my first blog entry was too disorganized. He wants more structure. Also, Ross warned me that all of this must be in complete sentences. Spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors may result in “penalty time.”
A little while ago, my arms and legs were pretty stiff when Ross got me out of storage and released me. He had me walk on his treadmill for a few minutes, after which he oversaw the opening of the crotch zip of my outer catsuit and removal of the inner suit’s codpiece, to allow me to piss through the chastity device into a plastic container. I know he said head to toe rubber at all times, no exceptions, but I was surprised when he quickly re-closed the suits, keeping me totally encased without break in the slimy sweat that accumulated so far inside the seal of the two rubber suits and hoods I was in all day. Immediately after allowing me to piss and closing up my crotch, he handed me a thick, tight dry suit and supervised its application, zipping me up inside it over top of my rubber suits. He says the extra layer is part of my punishment for violating the rule of silence.
Next, I was cuffed and kneeling in the kennel cage with food and water in dog bowls, from which I drank and ate through the tight hood mouth hole; then I spent time pleasuring Ross’s prodigious cock and booted feet, licking and sucking as well as I could through the hood, while he relaxed and read stories on the Story Board; and now, bound but still able to type, I’m at the computer.
I am in a shitload of gear, with total coverage and lots of layering; black rubber latex sex gear, head to toe. I feel heavy with the thickness of the tight packaging: the three rubber layers plus a fourth of leather encasement from the waist down. Physically, things are very slick, warm and toasty inside my realm of rubber membranes and insulating multiple layers, which all together create a sense of encapsulated rigidity, a form of skin and posture bondage. After I satisfied Ross’s cock with my mouth, he heavily gagged and muzzled me as further incentive for me to remember I must endure my suffering in silence, “absolute silence pig.” I am sitting very straight, with the help of a stiff posture collar and Ross’s admonition, “eyes forward, concentrate on blogging pig.” My hands are cuffed, my feet and legs encased in a tightly laced, strapped leather leg sack, looser at the knees to allow bending and attached at the ankles to the stool on which I am perched. “Sit up and type pig. Blog ‘til I tell you to stop pig.” The leather adds to the heat. I can feel the sweat inside the fingers of my gloves as I type. Way down inside, under the head to toe total encapsulation, my anal plug and chastity device, in place all day, feel like they have become permanent parts of my body.
So far, the rule of silence is the worst part of my sentence, even worse than the isolation of ‘storage’ and the constant frustration of horniness that I cannot relieve. As for how I spent my day...
Ross has a box built into one wall of his dungeon and that’s where I was today, all day. It’s a horizontal rectangle, about 3-4 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 1 ½ feet deep, and it bolts closed from the outside with a side panel. It has a vent on one side, sometimes with a fan outside Ross uses in hot weather, and has thin rubber padding inside. There is a recessed compartment in the floor of the box for a water bowl. Ross has a habit of using the wall box for extended confinement. I have heard him (and know he enjoys to) talk about how it bolts closed from the outside so there is no escape.
This morning, I had (as I still do, under the dry suit) the chastity device, butt plug, rubber skin, tight hood, and then a catsuit over the rubber skin, with attached gloves, socks, and hood with open face. Before Ross locked me in the box, over my rubber suits he fastened a shoulder-to-wrist restraint, locking my wrists behind in a crossed position at my lower back. Next, I was put inside a new piece of rubber gear Ross got from the web called a ‘hog sack.’
It’s a thick rubber sack, somewhat like a combination arms-back armless rubber straitjacket and legs-folded-up rubber sleepsack. It includes an attached hood with small grommet hole at the mouth for the breathing tube of the rubber gag that Ross inserted before sealing me up. After my head was inside the hood, eliminating my ability to see, I had to lie on my stomach as Ross pressed my locked wrists and folded arms against my upper back. I felt him fasten my ankles crosswise somehow and then exert pressure to bend my legs back into a hogtie position while I wiggled around to help him as he pulled the sack into place and zipped me up.
Initially as the zipper closed I had a big bondage rush, a real strong blast of rubber bondage pig excitement through my entire body. Being stuffed in the hogsack produced very intense bondage, creating an incredible connected feeling at first, like an awareness all over my body of each tiny movement; with the thick rubber enclosing me in the hogtie position, I wanted to squirm like crazy. I bucked and moaned out loud in bondage lust and in objection to the fucking chastity device that prevented my wiggling from stimulating my cock. With the butt plug fucking me as I squirmed I must have gone wild, writhing and twisting until I felt hard pressure on my back, from Ross’s boot I guessed, and heard Ross’s loud voice through the layers encasing my head as he told me stay still, shut the fuck up; and then the breathing tube was clamped, cutting off my air, until I stopped my groans and gyrations and it was released.
After I calmed down, over top of the rubber sack I felt there was some kind of harness that Ross tightened up, with straps at my waist and between my crossed legs. The straps added to the intensity of the enclosure and my excitement got the better of me again; I was told to shut the fuck up stop squealing pig as I felt the straps further confine my tightly enclosed arms and hands to the upper portion of the sack, behind my back. I couldn’t keep from bucking and squirming as Ross fastened the other strap, running around between my legs, keeping them pulled up tight into a crossed position inside the lower portion of the sack. While Ross finished the rubber sacking it produced such a tight, encasing hogtie that it had me desperate to cum. I felt the waist belt cinching me around the middle, pinning my arms down even more inside the rubber so I couldn’t lower them or really move them much; and the other strap, forcing my legs and ankles snug up against my butt. The added reinforcement fired me up again, and I started moaning and thrashing, practically oinking out loud, with Ross warning me, I told you shut the fuck up and stop wiggling around pig.
It is making me really horny to write about it. I realize now that early in the day being jam-packed in the hog sack and totally helpless but aware of Ross shoving me into the box and bolting it closed was like entering into rubber bondage pig heaven. Oink!
Ross reiterated rules and warnings as he finished sealing me up and maneuvering me into place. I usually have no trouble remembering Ross’s threats, since he always makes good on them, and some of his final words stayed in my mind all day: “Fuckin’ tight bondage you’re in, slave. A nice compact package in your layers of latex and new hog sack. I think you’re ready to disappear for the day.” Horny beyond reason, I squealed and wiggled in response, and he continued. “You’ll have plenty of time to get used to this treatment. At least a week or more! So you better start off on the right foot. Unless you’re looking to get heavily muzzled and anchored in place, you should stay still and quiet all day in your little box and endure your suffering in sealed silence.” With that, I sensed the box shutting closed and ecstatic horny solitude descending on me.
But I don’t know how to describe the rest of the day in a paragraph or two. The hog sack is a hot piece of gear, yet not so easy to spend a day in, but many times I was ready to explode with horniness, squirming in frustration, especially at first but then not so much as the day went on; eventually I was stifling groans of agony at times when it seemed unending. Right after Ross closed the box, I was overwhelmed by bondage exhilaration as the physical aspects of my predicament set in. Wiggling and squirming, crammed inside a tight rubber sack, transformed into a hogtied rubber mummy, sealed in total encasement except for an air tube through my gag, locked in a confining wooden box, I was on a bondage high.
Of course, the enthusiastic frenzy of being left encased and boxed faded after a while – maybe an hour or two – yet returned at times. Isolated and insulated, with no signals from the outside world and the realization that it might be a long day, I lost track of time early on. I was able to change position, shifting from my stomach to my side, where I could bend my body a little at the waist, and even flip over onto my back if I wanted to put up with lying on top of my arms and feet. My arms and legs felt tingly at times and I would give in to the urge to struggle to try to change their position, while at other times I wiggled around just to keep the blood circulating, all of which stimulated my horniness and reminded me that I was butt-plugged, gagged, locked in chastity, rubber-hogtied, packed in latex encasement, and stuck in a box. My ankles and feet were pretty cramped in that sack, with muscle spasms sometimes when I wiggled them. My knees started to ache. My limbs felt numb at times. The intensity of the triple rubber layers including the thick sack penalized me with heat and sweat when I moved, so after a while I tried to be patient and change position only when I really needed to. Mostly I stayed motionless and silent, afraid to make noise or move about much because of Ross’s warnings.
I should have known when Ross said ‘expect to be ignored’ that’s definitely what would happen, but eventually the drawn-out hours of darkness and bondage storage seemed like the upper limit of what he said I could expect (if not longer). There was ample time to think about the next week of days and nights of more of the same stretching out in front of me. At times some serious horniness resulted, surpassing any other thoughts, almost as though confirming that my purpose in life had been found, but at other times also second thoughts, doubts, panic crept in.
Much of the time horniness and bondage gluttony ruled – a very horny day overall. Overwhelming, intense horny frustration at most times – rubber rapture! But at other times also isolated, lonely feelings, overpowering confinement and physical torment. But the horniness was there, on and off, mostly on, all through it. With the chastity device, there is no release from the horniness except when it fades inexplicably on its own. At one point hogsacked in the box I was feeling horrible boredom and sensory deprivation overload, and I hollered through the gag, but nothing happened, and then my heart pounded with fear of punishment, because I broke the silence rule, but then I hollered again; and eventually as minutes passed, accumulating to what might have been an hour or more, my dick hurt when it tried to get harder from the knowledge that making noise had no effect and I would still be ignored. Then another time the boredom was replaced by total detachment, like I was no longer in my body. I was pretty unhappy after a while though but those feelings disappear quickly once you are released. Difficult to summarize the ups and downs in writing. Maybe I was not so unhappy. Maybe I was getting what I needed...
At times the situation was even restful, my existence reduced to the level of a rubber-hogtied pig, dehumanized and transformed into Ross’s rubber bondage object, a rubber-encapsulated android unit focused solely on its rubber bondage, encasement, and mouth-tube breathing. I fell asleep a few times but did not like waking up, automatically in a panic state in reaction to the darkness and immobility of the tight encasement and boxed confinement. I knew from prior experiences in the box about the water bowl, so eventually feeling my way around poking carefully with my hooded head I found it and sucked from it through the tube of the gag. At other times in the past it was Ross’s piss except today it tasted like pure water but I did not drink a lot of it to try to avoid pissing myself inside the layers of rubber. I could hear my breathing and the rubber creak when I moved around, but otherwise there was dead silence in the box – except for when I tried to cry for help, which (as I said before) was ignored, and for which I am now being punished.
At times I held my breath to listen for noise outside in the hope that Ross was coming to let me out. But he didn’t let me out until my sentence, however many hours he had decided on, was complete. He was never out of my thoughts as the day passed and I waited – mostly quiet, patient, and very horny overall. At the end, fighting the desperation to be released was hard work, a type of a hellish mind game – telling myself you wanted this you stupid fuck and now you have it – and repeating one of the bondage mantras Ross taught me, “Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.”
Enjoy when you can... rubber rapture! Endure when you must... rubber torture!
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