Waiting for Ross #8

Aware of his stiffening cock under the skintight rubber crotch of his body suit, Tim leaned to one side to retrieve a small water jug. He bent his legs further and relaxed his knees, resting his full weight on the rubber-covered chest under him. With his thighs, he squeezed the muscular body underneath while he filled his own mouth with cool water and held it there. Ignoring the ragged sound of Brad clearing his throat and the quiet groans rising from Brad's partially exposed face, Tim indulged himself, enjoying his own freedom and wallowing in the insulated tactile sensations and unique sounds of latex surfaces rubbing against each other. His muscular, rubber-encased legs compressed Brad's shoulders and pectorals, still enclosed in the sleepsack and sealed in the rubber catsuit in which Ross had encased him. Reveling in the control, Tim bent down slowly, gradually inclining his head over Brad, pushing the rubber hoods away from Brad's mouth, until his own lips were sealed against the big, pouting lips so familiar to him. Cautiously, he released small discharges of water into Brad's mouth, and he felt Brad respond gratefully, eventually sucking Tim's tongue greedily after the water was consumed. Tim repeated the process, transferring oral infusions of cool water into Brad's mouth, ending with hungry, slurping, horny kisses, until Brad indicated his thirst was temporarily quenched.

Tim withdrew his tongue and sat up as Brad grinned and then exhaled in a large sigh of relief. "Thanks, man! That gag was getting to me, and I was dying of thirst."

Tim laughed. "It sounded like you were having a pretty good time to me."

Brad's grin turned sheepish. "True enough, I guess, but now I need out of this."

Tim put his hands on Brad's shoulders and shifted his body weight forward to pin Brad flat against the floor. "Not so fast. Ross told me you might need out, but he left it to me to decide. He said he won't be back for 6 hours, and I'm tempted to seal you back up and make you wait for him, especially without some explanation of what you're doing here!"

Surprised, agitated, and horny despite his discomfort, Brad screwed up his face, turned his head from side to side, twisted his legs, and wiggled his toes in an effort relieve the stiffness. "Fuck, man. You're the one who has explaining to do. You cleared out and disappeared without a word, and now I find out your Ross's new slave." He was tempted to try to buck Tim off. Instead, he made himself silent and still.

Tim slowly straightened up, relaxing the pressure he had been putting on Brad. He stared at Brad quietly, momentarily lost in his memories of the effect those handsome features used to have on him, and then he said, "You're right. I'm sorry, and I will explain." Tim sat motionless, slumped forward, his weight heavy on top of Brad.

Brad started wiggling again. He felt new beads of sweat forming on his forehead and trickling down the sides of his head. "Feels like 1000 degrees inside this sack." All at once embarrassed, Tim seemed at a loss for words. A long, silent moment passed, until he found himself sitting up and saying, "I haven't cum in a while. Guess my horniness was taking over. Sorry about that. Let's get you out of this."

As he positioned and repositioned Brad, peeling away the layers of rubber to extract him from the sleepsack and catsuit, Tim admired Brad's exposed body, its silky, tight, muscular beauty undisguised by the indented creases and coating of sweat and piss left by the rubber encasement, almost imperceptible except for the odor. Tim suppressed the unpredictable, horny urges arising in his mind, with one exception: Unable to resist, he planted a huge, sloppy kiss on Brad's cock as it emerged from the catsuit. Brad smiled but pulled back suddenly, unwilling to give in to his strong urge to drive it home, and Tim proceeded to help him out of the last of the sweat-soaked gear.

Over the next hour or two, with Tim leading the way, they both put words on hold, going over thoughts and questions in their minds without articulating them to each other, as they divested themselves of rubber, unplugged and flushed their holes, showered off the piss and sweat, and cleaned and rinsed the gear. Eventually, they hunkered down in a corner of the dungeon, Tim sitting cross-legged, Brad squatting, both settling back together on a vinyl exercise pad. The refreshments and food were welcome and tasty, and they consumed them quickly as they resumed conversation.

Brad asked, "Feels a little weird to be sitting here, naked, eating with you, in Ross's basement. I assume we're locked in down here?"

"Yep. Like I told you before, when he left, he said he'd be back in 6 hours. When he returns we're both supposed to be encased in head to toe rubber, plugged and gagged, bowing down in a kneeling position, and waiting. Usually I have to be in head to toe rubber whenever I'm in his presence." Tim continued, "There's no clock down here, no way to tell exact time, but I think we still have plenty of time to rest for a while. He might shut the lights off though, and that could make it complicated if we aren't already suited up. It gets pitch black down here when it's dark."

Brad's cock, limp and still damp from showering, hanging down between his legs, started to stir. He felt his face redden and hoped Tim did not notice. "What if we wanted to leave?"

Tim responded: "I can only tell you about my agreement with him. Unless I'm restrained and locked away, I could probably go home whenever I want (assuming Ross is here to release me), but if I asked to leave before the weekend is up, that would bring my training to an end, forever. So, even though there are times I've wanted to go home early, I've never asked to leave. Usually I'm tied up anyway, and gagged. Having a 6 hour break totally free is unusual."

Brad could no longer hide his erection. Sensing his self-consciousness, Tim grinned, leaned forward, and began lightly sucking the head of Brad's pretty cock, but Brad pushed him back. "Hold up. We need to talk. I have more questions."

Tim's own erection, pointing upward, free and stiff against his lower abs, bobbed and stood up even further as he quickly sat back. "Okay, shoot -- from your mouth, that is." Tim grinned playfully, remembering full well that Brad had always found his smile to be irresistible.

Brad recounted his conversation the previous night in the bar when he and Ross had connected, and he gave Tim a summary of the events as he knew them up to the moment when Tim unzipped the rubber hoods to expose Brad's face. Then Brad asked, "I know I told Ross I wanted to see his slave, but what could have been in his mind when he brought me here and left us together?"

Tim responded slowly. "Now that I've had a chance to think about it, well... I think it was my idea, actually. I wanted you to know about all this, and I couldn't figure out the best way to tell you. Um... I talked to Ross about it, and he knew it was bothering me."

Brad said, "Tell me more. What do you mean it was your idea?"

Tim continued. "Um...well... Ross said that he saw you at the bar a lot, that you always cruised him, and that he had avoided you for my sake. When I heard that, I felt even worse about the way things ended between you and me. I knew I owed you an explanation. I also thought you'd probably want to be in my place here in the dungeon. You always had a thing for Ross, and I never leveled with you while we were together, because I didn't know how to handle the idea that we both wanted the same thing, as bottoms, I mean, and that it might mean our relationship would ... um..., ultimately, well, not work, I guess. That's why I never explained, why I just ‘disappeared' like you said."

Brad responded slowly, "I think I'm getting the picture."

"So, you shouldn't think less of Ross. He probably thought he was doing us both a big favor. If you want to go home now, though, I understand."

Brad questioned, "Why did you act surprised when you found me under the rubber if it was your idea as you said?"

Tim explained: "He didn't tell me it was you in the sleepsack. I'm the only slave he's ‘training' ... um ... intensively ... right now..., but he plays with other bottoms. It could have been one of them, so I was a little surprised when your head popped out of the hood. I didn't know if he'd ever really bring you here. But I'm glad he did ... even if you're not."

Brad relaxed a bit. "I need time to digest all this."

"Sure," Tim responded. He leaned forward again and impaled his mouth on Brad's cock. Unable to resist this time, Brad laughed and started pumping in and out: "Okay, take it deep if that's what you want... Ross's slave ... fuckin' pig." Brad became silent, closed his eyes, and pictured Tim as he had appeared the night before, a faceless, bound-up form, encased from head to toe, suspended, helpless, hooded, gagged, deprived of all senses, rubberized, leather-covered, dehumanized. While last night he had wanted to be that bound form, now Brad found himself fantasizing about Tim as the one in that state. Brad thrust forward, further into Tim's mouth, as he felt the juices in his cock being resurrected. Momentarily lost in fantasy, he gasped in surprise when Tim suddenly stopped sucking and pulled back.

Tim's blue eyes opened wide. He raised his eyebrows comically and licked his lips. "We're not allowed to cum, by the way."

Brad laughed out loud. "You fucking cock teaser!" Brad lunged forward, arms outstretched, and trapped Tim in a wrestling hold. Tim protested and struggled as Brad flipped him over on the exercise mat and pinned him face down, with Brad's ample, erect cock poised at the entrance it knew so well. "I should fuck your brains out, make you cum ‘til there's nothing left. I suppose your ‘Master' would ‘punish' you for that?"

Tim twisted and squirmed, with no effect except to increase his own excitement. Brad had always been able to overpower him in seconds. "Yes, he will!"

Brad squeezed Tim more tightly and maneuvered his hold, to play with Tim's nipples, alternating with one hand between them while keeping Tim pinned and helpless with the other. "That might be fun to watch!"

Tim resisted the impulse to loosen his muscles and give in to the stabbing presence between his clenched ass cheeks. He responded quickly, "He might punish you too!" Brad relaxed his arms, pulled Tim onto his side, and eased them both into a spoon position. He snuggled his head into the crook of Tim's neck and whispered in his ear: "How will he even know?"

Also beginning to relax, Tim smiled. "He's got a video camera system down here. Could be that he's watching us right now." A feeling of exhaustion began to overtake Tim. Melting against Brad as Brad's limbs surrounded him in their once familiar position, Tim unclenched his muscles and nestled his ass into Brad's crotch. The two muscular bodies entwined themselves together, and Tim felt the bulbous head of Brad's erect cock seeking entrance. "I'm really tired. I think the aftereffects of that marathon training session are catching up to me. But if you want me to be punished, I probably deserve it."

Brad nuzzled further into Tim. "I'm tired too, but I'd like to hear about how you'd be punished before I decide if I'm gonna fuck the cum out of you." 

Tim chuckled. "Well, ... hmm ... hold on. I don't think I ever tried to put this in words before." As Tim collected his thoughts, Brad remained still and quiet, with his cock tantalizingly close to Tim, touching its target but refraining from going for the bulls-eye. Tim continued, "Ross likes sado-bondage. He gets off on keeping me restrained, especially to the point when he knows I want out." Brad interrupted, "like being in that closet, suspended in the sleepsack? Were you being punished?" Tim resumed: "That was ‘training,' not ‘punishment.' The purpose of training is to require, test, and develop endurance. Whereas punishment ... hmm ... um... I guess what I'm trying to say is that punishment would be some more severe kind of bondage and confinement, some position or form of restraint that quickly gets very uncomfortable. Maybe it's not as complicated as I'm making it sound."

"I think I understand." Brad retracted his cock, which had stiffened so much that he almost entered Tim unintentionally. He shifted it slightly to one side, to keep it out of the direct line of Tim's hole, and snuggled his head close to Tim, so as not to miss a word. Tim went on, "I guess the difference is that when I'm being trained, there's a good chance I'll enjoy some of it. But when I'm being punished, there's a good chance I won't enjoy a lot of it, at least when it's happening."

Brad interrupted again. "But you enjoy the memory of it, whether it's training or punishment."

Tim responded, "True. And I do want to be Ross's slave, which I try not to forget, even when I'm begging for release."

Brad posited, "And Ross always enjoys your predicament."

Tim laughed, "You got that right!"

Brad's cock seemed ready to burst. He sandwiched it sideways, between his crotch and Tim's ass. "I love this talk of ‘training' and ‘punishment'! HOT!"

Tim was attuned to Brad's excitement. "Yep, it's hot, but sometimes when it's happening it can be hell. Anyway, I don't make a habit of breaking Ross's rules. The ‘training' is enough for me without the ‘punishment.' As far as cumming goes, sometimes he will let me cum while I'm here, but I'm supposed to ask for permission first."

"What would happen if you don't ask first?"

"Depends on his mood and if he even notices, but he was very specific before he went upstairs today, so I'm pretty sure he'd probably punish me. That's if he's watching on his monitor upstairs."

Brad repositioned his cock and prodded Tim hard, threatening to poke through and ram him. "Give me an example of how he's punished you."

Tim fought the temptation to push back and impale himself. "Hmm... Well, a few weeks ago he had me encased and sealed up just like you were today, catsuit and rubber sleepsack, and he was binding me up, I think to fasten me into the box in that same position as you. I was really horny, kicking and squirming, and he warned me repeatedly not to cum, to wait. But, while he was strapping my legs back I got so worked up that I came, despite his loud warnings. After that he didn't say a word, but he unbuckled the straps, hauled me up, dragged me over to the isolation chamber, and pushed me inside. He left me in there ... standing in the rubber sleepsack, no opening except the mouth tube ... closed up in the chamber ... left me that way for really long ... seemed like forever at the time."

Tim could feel that Brad had reached between them to pump his cock. "Why did you have to stand? What's an ‘isolation chamber'?"

"It's a narrow, sort of vertical chamber, three walls and a solid door, with only enough room to stand once the door is closed. It's in back of the closet I was strung up in. It's hard to take. The confinement is overwhelming. There's no way to get comfortable. You just have to stand there and wait." Tim motioned with his head. "There's also a small pit across the room over there, under that board in the floor. To fit into it you have to get into a tight fetal position, squatting or sitting, all folded up. He calls it the ‘punishment pit' or ‘doing pit time.' It's really intense, especially combined with being in rubber and maybe some type of bondage too. When he shuts me in there for an hour or so, I definitely feel like I'm being punished!"

Brad let go of his cock, and Tim felt the rigidity of it against his butt cheek. Brad closed his arms around Tim and hugged tightly. "I want to try the ‘isolation chamber'! Right now!"

Tim hesitated. "I don't know if that's a good idea. I think maybe we should wait for Ross. I'm sure he'd be glad to put you in there!"

"Fine, have it your way." Brad reached down and roughly grabbed Tim's cock and balls, to keep Tim in place as he centered and aimed his own cock, but Tim tightened up and twisted away. "Wait! Stop!"

Brad relented. "I'm not gonna cum inside you without a condom. I'm just gonna make YOU cum."

Tim said, "What I meant was... I'll put you in the chamber, if it's open...." Tim hesitated and then continued: "I mean... well, I guess we're allowed to play, as long as we don't cum. But let's get some gear on first, get suited up and plugged ... the way Ross wants us to be -- just in case he comes down soon."

Brad released Tim's cock and balls from his grip. "Okay, but I get to pick the gear for me!"

Tim grinned and agreed, but teased Brad: "What a pushy bottom!"

Tim quickly completed his own plugging and encasement, using the medium butt plug and custom-size catsuit that Ross had recently acquired for him, the one Ross referred to as his "rubberskin." Its only openings being those at the eyes, nose, and mouth of the formfitting hood, once zipped closed it sealed Tim in rubber exquisitely from head to toe, with attached gloves and socks. Brad's mixed reaction of jealousy (wanting to be that anonymous-looking, latex-covered, muscular form) and horniness (wanting to tackle the form and have his way with it) soon gave way to curiosity and enthusiasm as they sorted through Ross's considerable collection of gear. The possibilities for rubber and leather coverage and restraint seemed endless, and a sense of horny fun suffused them both as they began to experiment. The idea of layers intrigued Brad, and Tim, adding touches of his own, was glad to indulge him. A seldom apparent aspect of Tim's sexual energy emerged, perhaps in response to the extended control by Ross he had just experienced, perhaps in response to Brad's presence, or perhaps as an outlet for the horniness that was starting to overwhelm his unfettered (though rubber-covered), erect cock. As Brad disappeared under the layers of coverage and restraint, he became more submissive, and Tim, more than just eager to satisfy Brad's kinky requests, enjoyed his own new, dominant role.

Overcome with horniness, Tim unzipped the crotch of his catsuit and played with his cock as he studied the end result: Brad manifested a high level of excitement -- bending and straightening his tightly encased knees, moaning loudly, and breathing rapidly through the tube in the grommet hole of the outer leather hood. The multiple layers of rubber, topped by a close-fitting wetsuit, achieved a type of constrictive skin bondage that was new to Brad. The outer hood, with its padding, zippers, laces, and multiple straps joined tightly, clamping his mouth closed tight around the gag, produced feelings of claustrophobia, deprivation, and helpless dependency that were mind-blowing. Under the layers, the large-size butt plug and pinprick chastity jock (which Tim had advised him against) produced a surprising degree of discomfort. Over the layers, the strong, snug leather straitjacket, binding Brad's arms and torso securely, and the wide posture collar, further limiting possible movement, completed the sense of extreme restriction. The knee-high boots, laced tightly over Brad's rubber-encased feet and lower legs, added to the perception of constrictive encasement. Insulated from sight and most external sound, Brad continued to dip down, moan lustily, and breathe heavily.

Tim spoke loudly, to ensure that Brad could hear him through the earplugs under the hoods. "You need to calm down in there! You're too worked up. Slow down. Stand still. Take a few deep breaths." When Brad moaned again, Tim yelled, "I SAID CALM DOWN!"

Brad grew still and almost soundless, his breath whistling quietly through the tube gag and hoods.

"That's much better." Tim asked, "Ready for the chamber now?"

"Mmph!" Brad could not hear well enough to understand, and the inability to comprehend agitated him. 

Tim leaned close and shouted, "IF YOU STILL WANT TO TRY THE CHAMBER, GRUNT TWICE."

Brad heard the words, understood, and hesitated. The effects of the layering, intense bondage, and sensory deprivation were already more powerful than he expected. He felt a mixture of sexual intoxication, bondage ecstasy, and fear as he finally responded. "Mmmmph, mmmmph!"

Tim had convinced Brad that he should "feel" the isolation chamber without seeing it first, and now they advanced slowly toward it. Responding to Tim's guidance, Brad gingerly waddled and shuffled, already regretting the size of the butt plug and the thorny discomfort of the chastity jock, its sharp barbs digging further with each step into his mercilessly hard cock. Blindly, awkwardly progressing forward, walking like a bowlegged old man across the dungeon, through the suspension closet toward the chamber, Brad felt his heart beating in his chest against the layers and restraints, his cock pulsing against the sharp spikes, and the blood coursing in his asshole, stretched wide around the huge plug, buried deeply and fixed in place.

Tim directed Brad, carefully turning him around and slowly inching him backward into the open, narrow enclosure. With the expanse of Brad's shoulders, he touched each side of the chamber, and as Tim pushed him into place, he looked wedged into the limited, confining space. Tim was hesitant to close the door to complete Brad's incarceration. Instead, Tim grabbed his own erect cock, protruding upright from the open zipper in the crotch of his catsuit. The image before Tim was compelling: a hooded, faceless, bound, masculine form, it looked totally dependent and helpless; thoroughly encased in taut layers of rubber and leather, its head, arms and chest were restrained with buckles and tightly fastened straps; and it stood there, cramped into its small prison, waiting to be locked away, a powerless bondage victim with no choice but to accept its fate. If Tim had found that image in a bondage magazine, he would have thought it was incredible, but seeing it in person, knowing that it was Brad who was underneath the gear and packed into the small space, was all more than Tim could bear. His long-deprived cock spurted wildly, shooting relentless jets of cum into the chamber and splattering across Brad's bound form.

Engrossed in recovering from his orgasm, relieved that it had finally subsided, Tim nearly jumped out of his rubber skin when he saw Ross's arm reaching around him from one side, toward the door of the isolation chamber. Tim gasped as Ross stepped in front and Brad disappeared behind the closed door. He was speechless as Ross bolted the locks and then turned to face him.

Soon thereafter, within 10 minutes of his return to the dungeon, Ross had already quickly finished his work and was ready to rejoin his dinner guests upstairs. As he entered the stairwell and paused before switching off the lights in the dungeon, his cock swelled at the sound of Tim's voice struggling to ensure it would be heard from within the pit. Ross listened to the muted shouts coming from under the floor:

"ONE HUNDRED THREE! THIS PIG WILL NOT CUM WITHOUT PERMISSION SIR!"

"ONE HUNDRED FOUR! THIS PIG WILL NOT CUM WITHOUT PERMISSION SIR!"

"ONE HUNDRED FIVE! THIS PIG WILL NOT CUM WITHOUT PERMISSION SIR!"

Ross looked at his watch, calculating the time it had taken Tim to reach 100. Then he multiplied the result by 20, to estimate the total time, assuming Tim made no mistakes and did not have to start over. He rubbed his expanding crotch, switched off the dungeon light, and climbed the stairs.