Waiting for Ross #6

Comfortably submerged in the folds of his waterbed, naked and pleasantly horny under the bedclothes, Ross dozed lazily in a half sleep despite the morning sunlight beginning to edge its way around the window shades of his bedroom. He was aware of the increasing pressure in his bladder and the growing need of his semi-erect cock, persistent in its demand for relief. For a moment, he wished he had Brad bound next to him in bed rather than in the dungeon downstairs. He could use him as human furniture, a rubber pillow for his head or feet. He pictured peeling the rubber hood away from Brad’s pretty face to force him to service cock, drink piss, and worship muscles. Ross’s cock grew larger at the thought of making Brad use his tongue to wash his hairy balls. He absentmindedly rubbed the fur on his chest as he shifted the pillows to angle his head upward. Untangling himself from the sheets, he flexed and stretched his substantial muscles, slightly sore from the previous day’s workout, until his limbs were wide apart in a spreadeagle position. Aware of the masculine odor rising from his own body, Ross wished he had a bound slave in bed ready to sniff his musk, service his feet, and lick his armpits. He liked having two slaves waiting in his dungeon, but he was definitely feeling the need for a third to tend to his immediate needs. He reached toward the night stand for the remote control and sat up slowly to survey the video monitor. Both slaves appeared still and quiet. He switched the display from split screen to one view that focused on Brad.

During the night, concerned about Brad’s experience level and ability to deal with the intense encasement, Ross had monitored Brad closely at first. Thinking of Brad as a relative novice, Ross had worried that the situation might be too extreme: the combination of multiple head to toe rubber layers, the skintight catsuit plus a very thick, close-fitting sleepsack compressing Brad’s body and sealing him completely, with the only breach in the rubber being the tube through the gag; rubber encasement that was not only inescapable but also punishing in its tightness and strict confinement. In fact, the rubber stretched so tightly over Brad’s muscular form that the constriction kept his body fairly rigid even when he squirmed vigorously. Viewed on the video monitor during the night, Brad’s attempts at movement had made Ross think of a giant, muscular, shiny-black snake with skin so stiff and tight that it could hardly slither. Drifting off to sleep in the early morning hours, Ross had been thoroughly entertained by the attempts of the well-proportioned, sausage-like form, struggling to bend, twist, and roll on the dungeon floor.

It hadn’t taken very long for Ross to notice a pattern. When Ross got up to his bedroom shortly after leaving Brad post-orgasm in the dungeon, he had turned on the monitor and heard Brad’s inarticulate, muted appeals. Ross recognized the familiar sound, the incoherent pleading of a gagged slave trying to ask, “Are you there, Sir? Please, Sir?” The polite, inquiring tone soon gave way to more urgent pleas, muffled cries trying to articulate, “Sir, please Sir.” Undressing and flopping into bed, Ross had continued to watch and listen closely while he played with his own bloated cock. Brad’s begging lasted about 10 minutes and was followed by a period of motionless silence. Ross had turned up the volume and was reassured by the barely discernible but constant sound of Brad’s breathing through the mouth tube. Then, after about 20 minutes, he noticed Brad wiggling slightly, slowly flexing his buttocks and pelvis, trying to bend at the knees and waist, and shifting as well as he could from side to side. Before long, Brad had flipped awkwardly, turning himself from back to stomach. Initially Ross thought he was struggling to escape, but then it became apparent that Brad was grinding his rubber-encased crotch into the mat where Ross had left him. Mesmerized by the rubber bondage image on the monitor, knowing that in the cocoon it was Brad who was gagged, bound and sealed so tightly, with a huge black plug shoved up his ass, Ross was surprised and pleased that Brad’s horniness had returned so quickly. Soon thereafter, accompanied by the straining sounds of latex surfaces rubbing against each other, Ross heard the gagged grunts of what sounded like an excruciating orgasm. And then later, Ross noticed that within an hour the pattern had repeated itself, with Brad struggling and worming his way around, working hard until he succeeded in cumming a third time. It was at that point that Ross had allowed his own cock to erupt. Convinced that Brad would not only be okay but that perhaps he was enjoying his predicament a little too much, Ross ignored the third set of muffled objections escaping through Brad’s gag and had let himself begin to doze in his own post-cum haze. While vowing that he would soon make things a little more difficult for Brad, leave him tied down, fixed in place, maybe in the wall box, Ross finally fell asleep.

Now, several hours later, on the monitor it appeared that Brad was sleeping. The silhouette of the black cocoon was motionless, but the sound of snoring was unmistakable. Brad was positioned on his back, and Ross marveled at his ability to sleep in such strict confinement, and with a gag in his mouth. Ross thought Brad had probably pissed himself by now. At the very least, he must be sweating his ass off in there, compressed tightly all night under two layers of thick rubber, and yet he was relaxed enough to sleep. Ross wondered how many times Brad had cum in addition to the three episodes that Ross witnessed. What a bondage pig! Ross switched the view to Tim, who was no longer motionless. In fact, during the minute or two that Ross had been studying Brad, Tim appeared to have become slightly agitated. To Ross’s amusement, the hooded, sleepsacked, suspended figure was jerking and bobbing around quite a bit. Ross loved the night vision surveillance feature of the video camera, which allowed him to view Tim while he kept him strung up in total darkness in the dungeon closet. He turned up the volume. Tim’s grunts and unintelligible pleas for attention made Ross’s cock rise up. He stared down his own body to the head of his cock and watched it sprout wide. There was a definite need for a third slave this morning, he thought. Someone to clean the dried cum off his balls, suck his dick, drink his piss, and then tend to the slaves downstairs while he lazed around in bed and watched the action, or lack of it, on the monitor.

Reluctantly, Ross got up. While putting on his boots, he retrieved a funky, sweat-dried sock from a pile of unwashed gym clothes. Attired in only his boots and a jock strap, he went down to the dungeon. He was concerned about Tim’s hydration level and the toxins in his system now that 24 hours of rubber imprisonment and piss recycling had passed. Ross had an oral rehydration solution he wanted to add to the mix, but he was otherwise determined not to divert Tim from his confinement and isolation. He wanted Tim to stay focused on his plight. Entering the dungeon, Ross noticed that Brad, his snoring through the gag much louder in person, remained sleeping. He stopped and stared at the black rubber mummy. “Snoring like a pig,” Ross chuckled to himself. Ross headed toward the closet where Tim had been locked away for 24 hours. Almost immediately on unlocking and opening the door, Ross knew that Tim sensed his presence. The begging began in earnest, and Ross was impressed with Tim’s efforts to enunciate his pleas through the gag. Ross could understand the words, “Please, Sir. Out, Sir,” which Tim repeated over and over like a mantra. The desperate tone had its effect on Ross. He looked down at his own crotch, admired the bulging jock strap, and rubbed his hard cock. He urgently needed to cum, but he was having a moment of indecision: Which slave should have the privilege of taking his load of cum? Ross had to admit he was somewhat preoccupied with Brad.

Tim’s agitation continued when his pleas to Ross went unanswered, even as Ross carried out his ministrations: disconnecting the gag’s tube from the overhead rubber enema bag where Tim’s urine collected; carefully introducing the rehydration fluid; modifying the electrotorture, to change it back to the motion-activated setting; unfastening some of the horizontal binding strips, to allow Tim to engage in the type of limited movement that would shock him into keeping still. But it was when Ross tied the stinking sock in place over Tim’s nostrils that Ross noticed Tim quiet dramatically, as though the strong male odor of his Master’s feet had a soothing effect. Satisfied that Tim had returned to a state of submissive acceptance, Ross turned off the light, closed and locked the door, and left him to his fate.

While tending to Tim, Ross had noticed that Brad’s snoring subsided. Now, it appeared Brad was definitely awake in there, inside his tight rubber cocoon. He was wiggling and moaning and edging himself over to one side. Even though the thick, tight rubber layers insulated Brad from head to toe, Ross could see the outline of Brad’s hard cock, pointing upward and plastered against his body. Ross lowered himself to a kneeling position straddling Brad’s chest and sat on top of him, pinning him down on his back. Ross talked loudly to penetrate the rubber hoods: “What’s going on in there, slave?” Brad squirmed and grunted, and Ross heard him trying to form words around the gag. Ross felt Brad pushing his hips upward, in an obvious effort to stimulate his cock. Ross was enjoying the strong rubber odor that emanated from the struggling, thoroughly encased slave. Speaking even more emphatically, Ross tried a slightly different approach: “I want to know how you’re doing in there, slave.”

The words came more slowly this time, and Ross understood what Brad had been trying to say:

“H-O-O-R-N-E-E THIR!”

Ross laughed out loud. After a few more exchanges, he was also able to figure out that Brad was also trying to tell him he needed to piss.

“So you’re horny and full of piss, slave?”

“ETH THIR!”

Ross got up off Brad and ordered him to stay still. Routing around in a nearby storage bin, Ross found the funnel he needed and connected it to the tube extending from the built-in gag within the hood of the sleepsack that encased Brad so well. As he did so, he admired the tight fit and marveled that Brad was not complaining about being too hot or strictly confined. Ross pushed the pouch of his jockstrap to one side and aimed his dick. Cautiously, holding back as much as possible, he pissed slowly into the funnel and watched Brad’s reaction. With no nose holes in the hood of the sleepsack, Brad would need to swallow the piss to clear the tube for air, and Ross wanted to be certain he wouldn’t choke. Sealed tightly, squirming and moaning due to what Ross assumed must be horniness, Brad seemed to consume the slow trickle of piss without problem. Soon, after giving Brad a chance to catch his breath, Ross let loose with a walloping gush that quickly began to fill the funnel.

“Chugalug, slave, if you want to breathe again soon!”

Brad’s audible gulps came quick and loud as Ross continued to piss. He enjoyed watching it bubble and gurgle and then eventually disappear down into the base of the funnel as the last of it drained into the mummified rubber slave. Then came the predictable gasping for air through the tube and the smell of piss on the slave’s breath, punctuated by a loud belch.

“Nice job, slave. You have potential. Could be my full time rubber urinal some day!” Ross sat in a cross-legged position next to Brad’s head. “Still horny?”

“Ethhir.”

“Piss tastes good when you’re all sealed and horny, huh slave?”

“Ethhir”

“I think you need a few more hours in that sack at the very least. Maybe leave you like that all day.” Brad squirmed and squeezed his buttocks in response and grunted in a way that Ross interpreted as meaning okay, if you say so, after all I have no choice. “You can piss in there anytime you want, slave. I see you enjoy having that big plug stuck up your ass?” Brad moaned and tried to turn himself over, but Ross prevented him from moving. “I want you on your back for now. And don’t get all worked up again. You need to calm down. No more cumming allowed until I say so. You are quite a bondage pig! Just the kind of heavy duty rubber slave I’ve always wanted. Right up there with Tim. Will be very interesting to see Tim’s reaction to all of this. It appears his time for release my come before yours!” Brad gave out another loud groan.

Ross took his time preparing Brad for the day to come. In part, he wanted to give him time to digest the piss, to ensure there were no puking mishaps. While he had confidence in Tim’s experience with long term gagging and consuming piss, he wasn’t sure of Brad’s abilities. At each stage, as Ross positioned and re-positioned Brad and fastened additional restraints, Brad tested the restriction, tried to twist and wiggle to stimulate himself, and begged through the gag to cum. Ross warned him repeatedly not to, and Brad barely contained himself. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later, slave!” Deliberately adding to Brad’s excitement, as Ross bound him further he described what he was doing and made Brad beg for tighter bondage and then thank him when he obliged.

When Ross was finished, Brad was fixed in place in what Ross liked to refer to as his “wall box.” A horizontal box built into the wall of his dungeon, it was approximately 4 feet long, 3 feet wide, and 1 ½ feet deep, and it bolted closed from the outside with a side panel. Ross surveyed the results of his efforts before lowering the panel. Still totally rubber-encased in the sleepsack and catsuit under it, Brad had his legs bent at the knees and fastened back, in what would have been a secure hogtie position, except for the modification of having his arms still encased in the internal sleeves of the sleepsack. Four thick leather straps encircled his body and gripped the rubber tightly: one binding his ankles to his butt, and the others buckled tightly around his chest, waist and lower arms, and knees. A thick leather collar around his neck was connected by a padlocked chain to an eyebolt at the head of the box, and a similar chain around the strap at his knees was fastened to the foot of the box.

“Fuckin’ tight bondage you’re in, slave. Pretty compact rubber package. Ready to disappear for the day?” Brad snorted, wiggled and bucked in response. Lying on one side and barely able to move, it was obvious he was trying to maneuver onto his stomach.

Ross began stroking his own dick as he surveyed his work. He knew Brad was desperate to cum, and he laughed. “Okay, cum all you want, all day if you can! Just keep in mind that when you do, you stay put! I intend to totally ignore you the rest of the day.” Ross took in the site of Brad, in his rubber encasement, squirming and twisting against the straps and chains as he renewed his struggles, but it was Ross’s cock that was ready to explode. Ross kneeled at Brad’s head, pulled the tip of Brad’s mouth tube to the head of his dick, and aimed the spurts into it. It was an intense orgasm, and he immediately felt totally drained. He heard Brad moaning and sucking in the cum and saw him wiggling vigorously, trying to cum himself, but Ross’s interest was waning. He stood up, closed the panel, and bolted it. As he left the dungeon and climbed the stairs, he realized he was hungry and a in need of a nap. Also, he needed a break from the constant sexual energy of the last 24 hours. Suddenly he was very glad that the slaves were all settled and ready to spend their day waiting for his return.