Waiting for Ross #3

Twisting in response to the painful shocks in his cock and ass, Tim belched. The odor of digesting piss mixed with the musky scent of Ross’s crotch as Tim inhaled through the jock that covered his nostril tubes. Inside Tim’s world of rubber and leather darkness and confinement, his sense of smell was exaggerated. Aromas of rubber, piss, and male crotch filled his sinuses as he tried to shift within the sack to find some space to breathe. The limitations of the restraint now seemed overwhelming, and Tim lost his ability to keep himself still. He twitched and jerked involuntarily and wrenched his body back and forth as much as the containment of the suspended sleepsack would allow, and in the limited range available he moved his head from side to side and back and forth. All of his motions sustained the movement-activated electro-torture, and, in turn, he became more desperate to escape. Making nasal pants through the nostril tubes, drawing the locker room jock aroma in, sweating profusely under the skin-tight rubber, Tim was aware through the ear plugs of the internal sounds of his own unintelligible protests. He emitted garbled shouts, but the gag and tight hoods ensured that he could only form the words in his mind: “Let me out you fucker!” Tim bellowed into the gag. He flexed his muscles to strain against the straps that Ross had made tighter. He heaved and groaned until the pain of the electrical current produced tears under his rubber-covered eyelids. He tried again to articulate words, to call out, to beg. In his mind, he pleaded: “Please..., please..., PLEASE SIR!” The only response was the continuous, painful prickling sensation in his cock and ass.

Eventually, Tim quieted himself. He made his muscles rigid to keep still and stop his body from swinging. He pulled his shoulders back, to ease the ache where the straps of the sleepsack held him suspended. Ross’s piss was beginning to cycle through him already. As Tim tongued the hole in the gag, sucked piss into his mouth, and swallowed, his body began to relax. The electro-torture had stopped. Though the constant presence of Ross’s crotch odor was in his nose, Tim could sense that Ross himself was gone. Tim’s hopes for release began to fade. The action of sucking piss through the gag seemed to provide some comfort, so he concentrated on that.

As time passed and the flow of piss continued, though Tim’s body slackened within the sack, things were far from being comfortable. Tim was conscious of the build up of heat and sweat from his previous struggling. The way Ross had re-fastened the buckles and straps of the sleepsack to make the enclosure tighter further restricted Tim’s arms and hands against his sides within the sleepsack sleeves and increased the compression of his shoulders and chest. The belts encircling Tim’s calves, knees, and thighs held his legs fast against each other within the sack. His body fused into one unit, Tim felt like he was a snake, wiggling around at the end of a hook. Inside the snug leather sack and hood, the two layers of rubber totally encased Tim from head to toe. “Such a bastard,” thought Tim. Ross was gone, and Tim knew he had no choice but to wait for him again, perhaps for hours. Tim’s cock, never a friend to him, stiffened with the knowledge and burned as it expanded around the catheter. Perversely, thinking about what Ross had done to him and how he had left him was making Tim horny, and the intensity of his confinement was having an erotic effect. His cock hardened painfully, answering the question forming in his mind: Why had he allowed himself to get into this position?

At some point, Tim lost all sense of how long ago Ross had been there and how much time had passed. Lurching with a start, he felt himself swinging and realized that he was coming out of a long lapse of consciousness. His tongue had been blocking the hole in the gag, and now, unthinking, when he moved it, his mouth filled with piss. He swallowed quickly. The taste was different, stronger, salty, more bitter, the flow was stronger, and the piss was warmer than usual. He no longer noticed the locker room smell in his nose. Tim continued to swallow. The flow seemed endless, and suddenly Tim understood that Ross was back, draining his bladder into Tim’s mouth. Tim swallowed quickly, obediently, taking the distasteful liquid eagerly, full of hope that if he behaved well Ross would release him. Wiggling in anticipation in his sack, he sucked and slurped around the gag to draw Ross’s piss through the tube. Tim noticed that his movements produced no electric shocks, and he squirmed vigorously in relief and inhaled the fresh air as deeply as possible. He was certain of imminent freedom.

Abruptly, the flow of urine stopped. Tim hung still expectantly. Through the leather and rubber hoods, he sensed what felt like Ross’s hands on his head. Instead of hoods being removed, however, he felt the outer leather hood being pulled roughly from side to side, and then his chin was pushed up. Next, he felt pressure around his head and neck, and then he understood that something was closing over them and being tightened around them. Panicking, Tim felt like he was suffocating. He snorted through the nostril tubes and gag and tried to shake his head, but the tightening continued without stop until his head and jaws felt squeezed and fixed in place. Gasping unintentionally, his anxiety lessened when he noticed that he could breathe through the gag tube without piss coming into his mouth. Tim noticed, as well, that Ross was making other adjustments. He felt a series of tugs and traction at a variety of pressure points as straps were pulled, repositioned, and re-fastened. The sleepsack was closing in further, and his attempts to wiggle and move his head were met with resistance. As the increasing tightness and immobility became more apparent, Tim’s mind and body reacted with a surge of sexual energy. Struggling mightily against the unyielding restraints, no longer able to wiggle or swing in his suspension, Tim was transported into a state of bondage ecstasy. Blissfully unaware of anything but the erotic sensations of the restraint, he pushed, pulled, and strained under the layers of rubber and leather.

When he came back to himself, finally exhausted after some unknown period of time, Tim tasted cum. He knew it must belong to Ross, since Tim was unable to cum when catheterized. Tim tried to call to him, but all he was able to manage was a pathetic, questioning babbling noise that reverberated inside his tightly bound head. He moved his tongue over the tube opening in his gag and the flow of piss started again. It was dilute, and Tim recognized the taste of piss coming from himself. His fantasies of release vanished.

Tim tried to imagine what he had looked like when Ross was working on him, bound up like a giant black sausage and struggling to escape. Apparently, Ross had liked the sight of it enough to cum. Tim decided that Ross had never before bound him as tightly. He was fixed in place, still suspended in the sleepsack but unable to move an inch. Each intake of breath was accompanied by resistance. The repetition of breathing and feeling compressed seemed like a sadistic cycle designed to remind Tim that Ross controlled him completely. Unable to move, Tim grunted in surprise when he felt his cock and ass start to tingle. What had started it? He thought he wasn’t capable of enough movement to deserve the automatic punishment of the electro-torture. Was Ross there controlling the dial? He inhaled slowly to sniff the air. Sometimes he could detect Ross’s presence by smell, but his familiar aroma was not in evidence this time. Suddenly, Tim gasped and swallowed piss quickly to avoid choking. The electrodes were delivering sharp, painful bursts of current on his cock and through the plug in his ass. Writhing in discomfort, sweating and cursing in his mind, he squirmed within the immobile sleepsack. As quickly as it began, it stopped. Tim sighed in relief and puzzled over what he had done to start it, but before he had much chance to concern himself, he had the answer. It came quickly, again and again, as the cycle of electro-torture repeated. Each time, just as Tim was able to recover and relax his muscles, the painful discharges zapped him to attention. As time passed, there was no interruption in the pattern. Tim estimated it repeated every minute or two, about 60 seconds of torture, followed by an equal interval of none. Cursing Ross and sweating in the skin tight head to toe rubber, unable to make any appreciable movements in the sleepsack, Tim sucked down piss and twitched in pain. As the shots of electricity kicked in, Tim felt like he would lose his mind if he couldn’t get out, but he knew he had no choice except to wait for Ross.