Waiting for Ross #18

“EEEEEZ!”

“EEEZ!”

“THIR!”

“EEZ ELP!”

“AHHHHH!”

“AHHHHH!”

“AHHHHH!”

“ELP! EEEEEZ!”

In an instant, Ross was fully awake. With a mind like a computer powered by high-capacity processors in energy-saver mode, Ross’s conscience and obsession with control had refused to let him descend to a level of sleep that would prevent Tim’s pleas from penetrating his awareness. About an hour after Ross had dozed off, he heard the unmistakable sounds of creaking rubber and greedy bondage pig grunts, satisfied little piglet noises indicating that Tim’s squirming had resulted in another episode of cumming. Subsequently, through his light slumber, Ross had heard Tim breathing rhythmically without apparent difficulty and begging for help periodically, but the unintelligible appeals, lasting a few seconds at most, had sounded tentative and halfhearted, as though Tim were just testing, to see if anyone was listening. And most recently, Ross had noted the sounds of swallowing, evidence that Tim was successfully recycling his own cum and piss without choking. All of these signs had convinced Ross that, despite Tim’s intermittent pleas, he was good for a while longer; that is, until now. A series of long, sustained, muffled squeals echoed through the dungeon.

“EEEEEEZ!” 
“EEEEEEZ!” 
“EEEEEEZ!”

Suddenly, the distressed tone of the continuous begging sounded sincere. Ross sensed Tim was working hard to attract attention. His sweaty bare back adhering to the rubber sheet, Ross slowly rose to a sitting position, unsticking himself from the bondage bed, and checked the time: He had slept off and on for over an hour. From above, the dungeon light seemed bright, as it reflected off the thick steel cell bars of the narrow, vertical cage, standing vacant against the wall at the foot of the bed. Ross squinted and looked over toward his rubber pig.

“EEEEEEZ!” 
“EEEEEEZ!” 
“EEEEEEZ!”

As Ross got up, his cell phone, attached to the waist belt of his rubber chaps, began to vibrate. He detached it from its holder and recognized Matt’s number on the display.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“Nice job with the pig. Tell John the urinal is perfect. I think the pig likes it too. And the bed is a work of art!”

“EEEEEEZ!” 
“EEEEEEZ!”

Ross heard Matt chuckle before explaining the purpose of the phone call: “You didn’t check in with us, so I thought I’d call to confirm you’re home before I fall asleep. Guess we don’t have to worry about rescuing your pig.”

“EEEEEEZ!”

Ross laughed. “We’re fine, thanks, though getting a bit noisy. Thanks for the call.”

“Later, man.”

As Ross replaced the cell phone, he felt appreciative of Matt’s friendship and the external monitoring system, at present consisting only of phone call alerts, that they were putting into place. Eventually the system would include a private Internet web site, webcasting the audiovisual monitoring system in Ross’s dungeon, so that Tim could be observed remotely by Ross and selected friends on a 24/7 basis. Ross wanted to keep Tim bound and imprisoned as much as practically possible. And though Ross wanted Tim to believe his periods of alone time in the dungeon meant total isolation, with no choice except to wait for Ross’s return, Ross wanted failsafe mechanisms for backup in case Tim got into trouble or Ross was delayed in getting home. Having a second slave, like Brad, if that worked out, would also ensure Tim’s safety.

“EEEEEEZ!”

Ross took a few steps and stood over the bound rubber form. In addition to the squealing sounds, Tim was squirming vigorously, rotating his hips against the straps. Emitting cries for help from within his hooded and gagged mouth, Tim pulled and turned his head and wiggled his toes in opposition to the rubber tubing that connected them. Despite being packaged into such a tight rubber bundle, Tim was making interesting, though fruitless, attempts to twist from one side to another within the bindings that secured him, hogtied, to the cot.

Ross loved to wake up to the vision of a bound rubber pig, waiting helplessly for its Master. His cock, so recently satiated, nonetheless swelled and pulsed at the sight of Tim. The visual display of the tightly encased form, wrestling against the bindings with no actual means of engineering a release, portrayed genuinely hopeless struggle, and the reality of Tim’s plight revitalized Ross’s sadistic libido. Keeping Tim down when he most wanted out was one of Ross’s guilty pleasures. Tim was trapped, totally dependent on his Master for relief, and Ross savored the moment of power as he stroked his cock and contemplated the squirming mass of muscle and rubber. With Tim’s mouth still connected to the urinal, Ross was tempted, even though he did not feel the urge, to take another piss, but ruled it out when Tim emitted a particularly loud plea for help.

“THIR! EEEEEEEEEEZ!!!”

A grudging form of sympathy came over Ross. With Tim’s bondage having occurred courtesy of Matt, who had used extreme measures to seal and bind Tim in a challenging position, Ross decided it was definitely time to release Tim, though Ross’s own hardening cock increased his reluctance to do so. Even if it had meant missing some much needed deep sleep by remaining somewhat alert throughout the remaining hours of the night, Ross would have preferred enforcing his rule, almost never broken, that once Tim was bound for the night, he stayed put. But Ross could not be sure of what was going on under the multiple layers of rubber and restraints. Tonight was obviously an exception. With the earplugs, hood, gags, tubes, harness and head wrappings, it would be impossible to communicate with Tim without significantly disturbing the gear. Matt had done an incredible job. Tim was definitely a trussed pig, and Ross enjoyed the sight of the bound slave getting more than he bargained for, but unfortunately Ross would have to intervene. First, however, letting go of his cock to search for a few specific items of gear, Ross surveyed one of the dungeon shelves as his thoughts matured, formulating possible plans for how Tim would spend the rest of the night, perhaps in some relatively comfortable state of bondage and captivity that would allow Tim to sleep. Ross puttered for a minute or two as Tim’s pleas, and their effect on Ross’s erection, continued.

“EEEEEEZ!”

“Coming, pig.” Ross knew the reassurances were unheard by Tim but enjoyed issuing them nevertheless.

“EEEEEEZ!”

“Be there in a minute, pig.”

“EEEEEEZ!”

“Okay, pig. I’m here.”

Ross stood over Tim, on a nearby table set aside the gear he had selected, and began working. Tim jerked and pulled eagerly under his touch. Ross was amused by Tim’s expressions of urgency to be released, but the frantic jerking movements were impeding Ross’s progress. Ross stopped abruptly, tapped hard with one hand against Tim’s rubber-encased skull, and shouted, attempting to penetrate Tim’s sealed head and ears. “Hold still, pig, or I’ll leave you this way all night!”

Tim’s frenetic squirming subsided, and Ross proceeded to loosen the bindings. It took time to undo Matt’s elaborate set up, but, within a few minutes, Tim was standing up, wobbling unsteadily in front of Ross, as Ross awkwardly pulled the tight rubber hood up off his head. Tim’s nose was scrunched up as he sniffed and squinted, blinked his eyes, fumbled with his gloved and mitt-encased hands trying to wipe his face, and finally relaxed his arms as Ross extracted the ear plugs. Tim leaned his head to one side and then the other, as though trying to drain his ears. Through his baby-face features, covered with sweat and black streaks of rubber grime, Tim was frowning petulantly, and there were tears in his eyes.

Ross smirked. “Thought it might be you in there. Hi, pig!”

Working his jaw, Tim opened and closed his mouth and cleared his throat several times. Now visible to Ross, Tim’s cock and balls, encased in a rubber sheath, extended through the codpiece opening of his catsuit. As Ross had suspected, with the equipment at Tim’s mouth removed, the tube that was meant to connect the tip of the sheathed cock to a mouth plug was hanging loose, with its free end bobbing at Tim’s rubber-encased feet. Over the sheath, it was apparent that Matt had used latex strips around the base of Tim’s cock, perhaps to achieve a leakproof seal, and around his balls, wrapped and elongated by the rubber strips. Tim’s rubber-encased and bound cock and balls looked huge, sticking out of the codpiece opening of the catsuit as if in a permanent state of erection. Tim shifted from one rubber-socked foot to the other and tilted his head to one side and the other, apparently adjusting his neck. Stretching the tight rubber skin of the catsuit, he extended his arms forward and up and shook one leg at a time.

Tim’s voice was quiet and hoarse when he finally spoke: “Fuck.”

Ross responded quickly, “Fuck, what?”

Tim croaked, “Fuck, Sir.”

Ross reacted to the clarification. “That’s better, pig.”

Tim cleared his throat again and spoke. “Fuck, Sir. That was really tight.”

Nonchalantly, Ross shot back, “That’s what bondage is all about, isn’t it, pig?”

An exasperated, contrary look transformed Tim’s face. “I’m just trying to tell you it was ...”

Using an authoritative tone, Ross continued, interrupting Tim’s complaint: “Supposed to be tight! Tight rubber. Tight restraints. Seems to me like you just had some excellent training. Isn’t that right? The tighter the better?”

Tim’s expression intensified and his voice croaked, “There’s a limit!”

Ross laughed at the shocked look on Tim’s face. “Stop whining. I got you out of it, eventually, didn’t I?” Ross chuckled. “You survived and you look none the worse for the experience.”

Appearing to have suddenly found his full voice, his words coming quickly, Tim responded angrily, “I’d like to see you try it!”

Ross laughed. “You’re the bondage pig, not I.” Ross had a way of nipping in the bud Tim’s occasional fits of negative mood and ineffectual, often amusing, little temper tantrums.“Chill out, pig.” Ross gripped Tim’s shoulders and pushed down, encouraging Tim to assume a kneeling position. Cock sucking would shut Tim up and calm him down, Ross thought. Plus, Ross was in the mood for some service. But Tim, resisting, stepped back.“I need to piss. I couldn’t really empty my bladder in that position, tied up so tight, with this huge plug up my ass and trying to piss through this tube into my own fucking mouth. Plus, I didn’t like...”

Ross interrupted with a raised voice. “I told you to stop whining! I heard you cum myself at least twice! And you were guzzling piss like a pig. All in all, it sounded like you were doing okay to me.”

Yet Tim continued, his voice rising in indignation. “I didn’t like the way Matt gagged me. I want out of these mitts and suit, need to get the plug out, and piss!” Tim bent his knees and shifted from one leg to another. “And I have a big day at work tomorrow. I need to get some sleep! ”

Ross reached toward the gear he had selected and retrieved the mouth plug. Tim’s voice erupted: “No!” Tim stepped further backward, raised a mitt-encased hand to object, and clamped his mouth closed, but Ross, easily overpowering him, gripped the back of his neck with one hand and pushed the plug against Tim’s lips with the other hand, pressing gently but steadily until Tim opened his mouth and parted his teeth. Relishing his ability to dominate Tim, Ross was amused by the frightened look on Tim’s face. Tim’s mitt-encased hands descended slowly to his sides. At the back of Tim’s head, Ross pulled tight and yanked as he quickly fastened the strap, buckling the gag in place.

“Shake your head yes or no. Are you a slave or not?”

Tim hesitated for a few seconds and then nodded in the affirmative. “Ethir.”

“THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Ross noticed Tim’s eyes widen at the tone of Ross’s voice. “I NEVER WANT TO HEAR WHINING LIKE THAT AGAIN!”

With Tim’s fit of temper, the plans that Ross had been contemplating earlier now seemed inappropriate. A new strategy entering his mind, Ross immediately went to work. Over the next few minutes, Tim stood, silent, still, and fixed in place, struggling to keep his balance and maintain his motionless, upright stance as Ross pulled, pushed, or directed Tim to raise a limb, move to one side, or position himself otherwise, while Ross deftly maneuvered Tim, manhandling him with intentional exaggeration as he taunted him verbally and assaulted him physically with the measures necessary to achieve the reprimand Ross had in mind.

Midway through the process, his energy breaking as he admired his own handiwork, Ross decided to document the intermediate product, before proceeding with the finishing touches. Ross was impressed with the smooth, sleek, unbroken line of rubber encasement. Intentionally taking his time, Ross fetched a cloth and latex polish and proceeded to shine the surface of the cocoon-like object, the latex pillar into which Tim had been transformed. Ross ignored Tim’s quiet grunts, evidence of Tim’s struggle to maintain his balance, as he rubbed the latex casement. For purposes of the photo, Ross tucked away the sheathed genitals and drainage tube, temporarily closed off by a knot, squeezed tight and concealed under the outer rubber layer. With the rubber mitts having been removed, the outlines of Tim’s arms and hands, sealed tightly in place under the rubber by the inner sleeves of the sleepsack, were barely visible. 

Using his most recently acquired digital camera, Ross shot the photos from several different angles. Encapsulated in a skintight rubber sleepsack over his catsuit, encased in a form-fitting latex hood and thick rubber posture collar, Tim stood straight and deathly still, like a shiny black latex post, with tiny eyes blinking at each flash of the camera through the small eye holes of the tight hood. Trying to capture its essence, Ross studied the lines and symmetry of the latex encasement as he took additional pictures. He was intrigued by the overall effect and attributed it to a combination of the standing posture, which increased the tension of the mummification, the exact fit and conformation of the tight rubber encasing Tim’s head, neck, and body, and the totality of the encapsulation, appearing continuous, sealing Tim tightly head to toe without break except for a small tube at the mouth and tiny eye and nose holes in the hood. Ignoring the fatigue indicated by the slight trembling in Tim’s legs, Ross continued snapping and reviewing photos until he was certain that at least one of the images had captured the spirit of the tightly cocooned, compact, upright rubber mummy.

Collecting gear for the final phase of Tim’s metamorphosis, Ross was surprised when he saw Tim bending his rubber-encased knees and heard Tim straining to form words within his plugged and sealed mouth. Ross immediately recognized Tim’s intent, and he did not feel sympathetic.

“Shut the fuck up! I decide when you can piss, and I better not find any leakage in there.”

Tim straightened up, making himself quiet and rigid, but his eyes, wide and staring through the hood, betrayed his stifled emotions.

Ross selected the head gear carefully: a heavy leather hood and head harness/muzzle. Ross wanted maximum compression, so that Tim would barely be able to utter grunts, but the mouth plug tube had to be accommodated, and he wanted to preserve Tim’s ability to see through the hoods. Similarly, for what Ross had in mind, only the thickest, tightest fitting leather sleepsack would do.

About 10 minutes later, having moved Tim into place after completing the administration of his final outer layer of leather, Ross closed and padlocked the door of the steel cage. Visible through the bars, Tim was now a leather mummy, standing bolt upright and crammed into the narrow vertical space of the steel cell. His leather-covered shoulders spanned the narrow width, and chest and ass filled the slim depth of the confined space, so that the mummy nearly touched the bars on all sides. The mummy’s exaggerated stance, from the tightly enveloped conjoined feet, to the tight cocoon shape of its entire body, was made rigid by the thick outer encasement of close-fitting, thick leather, reinforced with lacings and multiple horizontal straps, all buckled, cinched, and interconnected, and the rubber posture collar, which Ross had removed and then replaced after the external leather encasement and bindings had been completed. An erect, rubber-encased, heavily tethered and bound cock was exposed, though entwined in the bindings of the mummy, and a tube extended from the cock tip to the mummy’s mouth area, where it disappeared among the coverings and straps of the leather-shrouded and harnessed mummy head. The cell was set laterally against the wall at the foot of the new bondage bed, and Ross had installed Tim in position to face the bed.

Ross stood next to the cage, at Tim’s side.“Use your gagged pig language. Grunt once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no,’ pig. Can you hear me okay?”

A muffled, barely audible grunt came from Tim. “Uh.”

“Can you breathe all right?”

There was a quiet “Uh.”

“Getting warm enough in there, under all those layers of rubber and leather?”

Ross heard another very quiet “Uh.”

Ross’s voice took on a serious tone. “Seems a little chilly in the dungeon tonight. Maybe I should turn up the heat. Would you like that?”

Still very muffled and quiet, Tim gave a negative response. “Uh, uh.”

Ross turned as though he intended to walk toward the thermostat. “Glad to oblige.”

Tim’s grunts were suddenly much louder. “UH, UH! UH, UH!” Ross smiled and turned back to the cell. The mummy pivoted slightly to one side, bumping into the cell bars. Its tightly melded feet, limbs, and body moved as one stiff unit as it grunted its strenuous objections. “UH, UH!”

Ross laughed. “That’s better. Still need to piss, pig?”

The mummy teetered back to the center of the narrow space as it tried to balance and right itself, but there was no mistaking the positive response. “UH!”

“Go ahead, then. Let’s test the connections. Once you get the flow started, you should be able to suck on that mouth plug to create some suction. And don’t worry. If it doesn’t work, I have a catheter kit ready just in case.”

Immediately, Ross heard sucking noises. In addition, within a minute, the caged mummy began to let out gurgling sounds, which quickly progressed to a rhythmic progression of noisy sucking and swallowing. Imagining the work required on Tim’s part to empty his own bladder under the layers of rubber and leather, Ross laid back in bed, a rubber encased pillow under his head, and watched silently as the process continued for several minutes, until the swallowing stopped, succeeded by the sound of a loud belch. Ross was amused. “Good job! Seems that big butt plug stuck up your ass isn’t as problematic as you said, is it? Good thing we left it in there, right?”

Tim wobbled, appearing to lose his balance, but the narrow cell afforded little movement. Tim swallowed loudly and grunted twice. “Uh, uh.”

Ross laughed. “No? Oh well, too late now. You need to get used to it anyway. Maybe we can lock it in place under your work clothes tomorrow. That might take care of providing the conditioning you need. ”

Tim’s eyes, barely visible through the layers of rubber and leather, suddenly looked more alert, yet Tim remained stiff and silent. Ross yawned, stretched his arms behind his head, and stared at the caged mummy. “A totally closed system, your own piss dumping into your mouth. Some pigs will do anything, no matter how humiliating, as long as they get to be all sealed and bound up. Right, pig? ”

Ross heard leather creaking and imagined Tim, squirming inside his rubber and leather cocoons, trying to weigh the consequences of a negative response.

“Uh.”

Ross snickered at the affirmative answer. Tim had caught on fast, and Ross suddenly realized his own enjoyment of the “conversation.” He began stroking his cock as he talked.

“Recycling the piss of your Master and his friends all night. The sooner you finish emptying your bladder into your piss-sucking pig mouth, the quicker your system processes it and sends it right back through your pig dick, into your mouth again.” Ross’s voice affected a tone of sympathy. “Poor little bondage pig. Stuck in an endless cycle of piss. But it’s not so bad when you’re all sealed up, bound, and horny. Right?”

“Uh.”

“What?”

“UH!”

“Get used to it, pig. It will definitely be a standard feature once you’re a 24/7 slave. Such a handy little bondage accompaniment. Never have to worry about the slave pissing himself or getting dehydrated. Don’t you agree?”

Tim gave no response.

“I said, ‘Don’t you agree?’”

“UH!”

“Plugged and gagged, too. All holes controlled by your Master.” Ross checked the time. “Well, pig. I have a big day at work tomorrow. I need to get some sleep!” Ross laughed. “Hmm... that sounded familiar. Think I heard it recently somewhere.” Standing silently in the tight space of the cell, surrounded by the imprisonment of steel bars, unrecognizable in his mummified state, Tim remained silent, but Ross noted the creaking of leather as Tim shifted his tightly bound feet on the floor of the cage. “That’s right, pig. Better get comfy. You’ll be that way for quite some time, standing in your cage, insulated by rubber and leather, tightly sleepsacked, hooded and gagged, sweating your plugged ass off while you watch your Master sleep comfortably.”

As Ross yawned again and pumped his cock, he noticed that Tim had quietly maneuvered his mummified body into a position that allowed him to lean forward, press against one bar of the cell, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, rub his heavily encased, bound dick across it.

“Is my chatter getting you excited, pig? Cock getting hard at the sound of your Master’s voice?”

Tim grunted once, quietly. “Uh.”

“There are no guarantees of sleep for bondage slaves, pig. Maybe things will be too tight or uncomfortable. And you never know when your Master will release you. But good bondage slaves learn to persevere and endure in the face of adversity. Know what I mean, pig?”

Now openly grinding his rubberized, bound cock into the cell bar, Tim grunted greedily. “Uh.”

“So, you’re willing to give up any chance at sleep tonight in favor of serving out your sentence, the punishment for being rude to your Master?”

The response was quick. “Uh!” Tim’s breathing was audible, as was the sound of creaking leather as it rubbed against the cell bars.

Settled, comfortable, and fully horny on top of the bed, Ross manipulated his own huge erection. “You want to stay mummified and caged all night, locked up and bound up, all rubbered and leathered, hot and uncomfortable inside your layers, all encased, cinched and strapped, tightly gagged and hooded, head-harnessed, pissing into your own mouth, forced to stand for hours and hours, to learn your lesson?”

Tim gave an enthusiastic “UH!”

Ross pumped his cock vigorously as he watched Tim lurch awkwardly, trying to leverage his mummified form into a position that provided maximum friction for his encased dick. Ross heard the sound of creaking and stretching leather; the mummy seemed to bob in place for a moment, and then it lost balance as it tottered backward, its posterior supported by the rear bars of the cell. The limited, narrow space prevented Tim from falling, and the tight encasement and restraints of the leather sleepsack kept him in a stiff, standing posture. Within seconds, he shifted forward and resumed his clumsy grinding movements. Ross heard Tim inhale and exhale in sporadic fits, appearing to alternate between heavy breathing and breath holding with the effort required to stimulate his cock.

“You like being treated this way, slave, don’t you? Maybe I should say that you crave it.”

Tim pressed himself closely against the bars and his unwieldy, grinding movements increased. “UH!”

“You going to more appreciative of the privilege of serving me and my friends, no matter how uncomfortable you are?”

“Uh.”

“Want to be my permanent slave, treated this way routinely?”

Tim let out a muffled shout. “UH!”

“Does the pig want to cum?”

Tim emitted a loud groan, and then “UH!”

“Go ahead, pig. Cum for your Master.”

Pumping his cock vigorously, Ross himself was almost ready to cum, but he held off, keeping himself on the edge, as he watched the standing mummy bounce and squirm against the thick steel bars of the vertical cell. After observing Tim for several minutes, Ross could take the sights and sounds of the straining and heavy breathing of the mummified slave no longer. He closed his eyes as his cock exploded, quickly producing a moderate eruption of cum as it shot for the third time that night.

A minute or so later, drowsy and heavy-lidded, Ross could feel exhaustion enveloping him as he recovered from the orgasm. Too lazy to move, he wished that Brad were in bed with him to lick the cum off his stomach and chest. Ross opened his eyes more completely. The mummy was still struggling, but its efforts were less energetic.

Ross fought the urge to let sleep overtake him. He looked up at Tim’s eyes. “Can’t cum, pig?”

Tim made himself still. “Uh, uh.”

“How many times did you cum tonight already? Two? Three?”

Tim grunted four times in succession.

“Ha! Greedy, greedy pig. Maybe you’ve reached your limit. Must be hot and sweaty inside your tight rubber and leather, with all that mummy dancing and squirming in your cell.”

“Uh.”

“Frustrated, pig?”

Tim snorted loudly. “UH!”

Ross snickered. “Cumming is the Master’s prerogative. But as for tonight, you have permission to keep trying. It could be your last chance to cum for awhile. In fact, you might want to cum as many times as possible. And you have the rest of the night to try. Just don’t wake me with the noise. Understand?”

Tim grunted softly. “Uh.”

“Good pig.”

Apparently revitalized by Ross’s instructions, Tim pushed forward with his crotch, squeezing it against a cell bar, and quietly pressed his bound and encased dick into the steel shaft. Ross watched Tim for a minute or so and then turned on his side. “Night, pig. Stand tight.” Within seconds, Ross was drifting off, entering into a deep sleep.