Tim the Bondage Slave – Part 7

By Mister-X / Spartan

Thursday night at home and Friday at the office were a repeat of the previous sessions.  But this time after everyone had left and Mr. Johnson had released Tim from the chains and pole, he started to have a little chat with Tim.  He asked Tim how he was enjoying his new life.  Tim was pleased to have this little one-on-one, and told Mr. Johnson that he was enjoying it, though it was difficult being in that tight hard shirt with tie which would be choking him some for half his day, followed by the rubber suit with its enormous gag which hurt his jaw muscles for the other half.

Mr. Johnson said he would get used to it.  He also said that there had been some progress on Tim’s posture from the pole.  So he decided with the weekend coming to have Tim chained to the pole all weekend while wearing his rubber suit, starting this evening after dinner and going through until Monday morning, that Tim would have to forego meals and eliminations during that time.

Tim reacted to this.  “What!” he shouted.  “No food, no liquid, no pissing for 60 hours?  That’s inhumane!  You can’t do that!”

“I can’t?  Are you questioning my authority over you?  Or questioning my judgment?”

“I’m saying that to treat another human being like that is monstrous.  You would be going beyond the bounds of common decency!”

Mr. Johnson calmly responded “okay, then.  I will change my plans for this weekend for you.”

Tim couldn’t believe his ears.  Mr. Johnson actually listened to him and altered his plans based on what he said.  He thought a lot more of Mr. Johnson for doing that.  He said “thank you, sir.”

After Tim was suitably restrained and marched down to the waiting car, put in the trunk as usual, with Mr. Johnson bringing down the other gear, including the pole, the group drove to Mr. Johnson’s home.  But when they got there this time, Tim was taken out and marched straight to the dungeon.  Mr. Johnson had a couple of other boys accompany them.

When in the dungeon, Mr. Johnson had Tim’s collar and the hood part of the rubber suit removed.  When Tim could speak, he asked Mr. Johnson what was going on.  Mr. Johnson said nothing but got another rubber hood identical to the hood part of the rubber suit, except that it had eye holes, and proceeded to strap that on Tim’s head tightly.  The gag was the same monstrous size as the one Tim just had removed.  Tim’s hood was attached to a chain which was pulled up until Tim was on the front halves of his feet.  The rubber cat suit was now pulled down to his waist, down his arms as far as they would go toward his cuffed hands.  With a guy gripping each of Tim’s arms, the cuffs were removed from Tim’s wrists so that the rubber suit could be pulled off completely.  Tim’s hands were re-cuffed in front of him, attached to a chain to a hoist, and his hands were hoisted above his head.

Mr. Johnson left and brought back a paddle, a cane, and the sleep sack with the hundreds of tiny internal nails.  He opened it up and laid it down in front of Tim for him to focus on.  He calmly told Tim that he had been told before that if he dutifully obeyed every command Mr. Johnson gave him, he would not be punished.  But if he questioned or disobeyed any orders, he would find himself inside this sleep sack.  Mr. Johnson had decided that instead of chaining Tim to the pole and suspending him to it for the weekend after dinner tonight as he’d told him, he would now inflict his beating, strap him into the spiked sleep sack, and then chain him to the pole to be suspended for the weekend, foregoing tonight’s dinner as well.  Tim started struggling as he was clearly not liking this prospect.  He kept yelling into his gag and shaking his head back and forth.

Mr. Johnson just calmly brought out his paddle and started whacking Tim on his rear.  He didn’t start out softly as he normally did, but started out with full force.  He told his two boys to yell out the count with each whack.  After 10, Tim started to quit thrashing about and started to react to the whacks.  After 20, he realized that whether he liked it or not, he was going to be punished as Mr. Johnson said he would be.  After 30 whacks he was beaten.  That’s when the caning started.  But instead of stopping at his usual 4, Mr. Johnson went all the way to 10.  By then Tim was sobbing uncontrollably, and his rear end was bleeding.  Finished, Mr. Johnson started rubbing Tim’s crimson red rear end, which also caused an immediate reaction from Tim.

Mr. Johnson winched down Tim’s cuffed wrists, undid the cuffs, and, together with the two boys, helped Tim over to the sleep sack.  Tim could hardly stand or walk on his own.  When he was laid down on the sack, he reacted by spasmodically raising up from the spikes.  The two boys helping Mr. Johnson pushed Tim’s arms onto the spikes in the sleeves of the sack and started zipping them up all the way to Tim’s armpits.  Meanwhile Mr. Johnson was zipping up the body of the sack.  All the time Tim was yelling into his monstrous gag as the spikes started digging into his body.

When Tim was completely inside, Mr. Johnson started pulling the strings through the rings, putting muscle into getting them tight.  Then the leather straps were closed, Mr. Johnson again putting muscle into getting them extra tight.  All this was forcing hundreds of nails into Tim’s skin.  Tim was starting to get hysterical.

When Tim was totally secured in the tortuous sleep sack, he was rolled over so that the form fitting pole could be chained on to him.  The chains were pulled as tight as they could be at the ankles, the knees, the stomach, the chest, and the neck.  Chains attached to a winch were attached to the chains at Tim’s ankles and chest for him to be hoisted into the air.  After he was raised, Mr. Johnson said, “Here you will stay for the next 60 hours.  But one additional thing I forgot to mention.  The metal electro is still attached to your chastity, butt plug and tit clamps.  This will be kept on, with random shocks of random intensities.  I wouldn’t want you to be too comfortable in there.”

Having said that, the three guys left the dungeon to go in to have dinner, leaving Tim suspended.  As periodic shocks of electricity would hit him, he would start to jerk before catching himself as the pain from the spikes would hit him.  Tim was in constant mind boggling pain.  He had wondered what it would be like to be in this sleep sack ever since he’d first seen it, and now he was experiencing it far more than he had ever dreamed he would.  It was excruciating pain, mind numbing pain, constant assaults on the pain part of his brain from all over his body.  And his cock was desperately trying to get erect the whole time.  Tim was hearing loud screaming, and realized it was him doing the screaming, with almost no sound escaping that monstrous gag.  All of this happened in the last 5 minutes, and he was going to have to endure 60 hours of this.  Then waves of pain hit again and his brain shut off from thinking, just concentrating on coping.

The next time Tim was able to think, he wondered what had possessed him to react the way he did to Mr. Johnson at the office.  He couldn’t have been thinking straight to say what he did.  Was he secretly wanting to be punished?  What he was experiencing certainly went way beyond what he had ever experienced, or even thought about experiencing.  Then another wave of pain hit, and his thinking turned off again to deal with it.

This went on and on and on.  Tim was aware of others coming into the dungeon, and of other activities going on, but they meant little to him.  He was in his own world of pain.  All other external activities were overwhelmed by the mind-numbing endless pain.  Tim had to get his mind around dealing with it.  And just when he thought he was going to overcome it, another jolt of electricity caused him to jerk and send another wave of pain to his brain.  Plus periodically his cock would be brought out and hit with the spiked paddle, as well as his body being hit with a paddle.  All these produced more pain.

Tim tried to get some sleep, but it was impossible.  He was in hell.  His brain finally shut down.  His self’s identity was ebbing away.  He was becoming a person who had to do whatever was needed to get along so that he could avoid any further punishment.  He couldn’t take being in this sack again.  Once out of this he knew that he would never do anything that would cause him to be put back into it.  The pain inflicted by this sleep sack was more than he could take.  He was going to have to concentrate on his posture, to become what the master wanted him to be.  He had to please the master to avoid any such punishments ever again.  He had to suppress his ego, his self, and accept whatever the master wanted him to do.

Tim’s brain went on and on like this until Sunday morning.  He had to endure this pain.  He had to get through it and become an obeying servant.  He couldn’t be put back into this ever again.

Sunday morning, after Tim had spent almost 36 hours in the sack, the electro was turned off, Tim was lowered and released.  Mr. Johnson had never intended to keep Tim in it for 60 hours.  Tim literally fell to his knees, prostate at Mr. Johnson.  He said, “Thank you, master.  Thank you, master” over and over again.  Tim was helped to a bath tub for him to nurse the hundreds of open wounds in his body.  Epsom salts had been added to the water.  After he had spent about an hour in the tub, he was given breakfast, the first food and drink he’d had in 48 hours, and strapped into a neoprene sleep sack with attached hood on a bed to spend the next 24 hours.  When Tim first saw the sleep sack he started shaking, but when they showed him it did not have internal spikes, he was willing to be put into it.  He slept most of the 24 hours.  He was oblivious to anything else that happened.

By Monday morning, Tim was released from the sack, got dressed, and came out to have breakfast at the usual time with Mr. Johnson.  His wounds had stopped bleeding and were starting to heal, but the tight clothes still bothered them.  After having the usual breakfast, strapped tightly to the chair, hood attachment off and fed by the rubber guy, he was ready to go back to work.  His tight clothes rubbed his wounds, but he ignored that.  He cooperated willingly with whatever Mr. Johnson wanted of him.  He tried his best to always maintain an erect posture.  Mr. Johnson was pleased to see the change and pleased to see Tim making progress.

Tim spent the day as he’d spent it the previous Friday, standing erect chained to the pole doing his work, periodically getting shocked during non-working hours.  He had no opinion on whether it was appropriate or not, just accepting whatever was done.  That his neck hurt from the shirt meant nothing to him, it was what his master required.  Back at Mr. Johnson’s home, he was hoisted up in the air, chained to the pole to spend the evening after dinner.  That his jaw ached from the monstrous gag meant nothing to him, it was what his master required.  By the end of the work week, his posture was now as erect as Mr. Johnson would like it to be, so it was time to return to trying some of the devices.

It was Tim’s first weekend not spent in either sack, and Mr. Johnson had to explain the different rules.  He told Tim that on Sundays, all their chastities were removed, except for one.  One of the boys was assigned the task of servicing the cocks on the others, required to swallow all the cum, but without himself being able to be serviced.  This duty rotated among the boys, a different one for each Sunday.  Tim would have his turn in a couple of weeks.  The service boy would be hooded with mouth hole only, have his hands cuffed behind his back, and would be led around to the various other boys who were restrained.  Everyone looked forward to that.  Tim showed no reaction.

When Mr. Johnson tried Tim in various of his devices on Saturday, he got a surprise.  Tim showed no reaction, either pleasurable or painful, to any of the devices.  He just accepted whatever his master put him in without any reaction.  The only device that Tim reacted to was the sight of the spiked sleep sack.  Since that was to be used only for punishment, it caused Mr. Johnson to be in a quandary.  What would be that special bondage for Tim?  Mr. Johnson had thought that, since Tim was into extreme bondage, his punishment needed to be extreme.  He thought Tim would be able to withstand being in the punishment sack as well as the rubber guy did.  But he now realized that he had gone too far too soon in punishing Tim, that Tim had been turned into a slave, someone who was eager to please, to accept everything to avoid being punished again.  Mr. Johnson was going to have to try to bring back Tim’s spirit before he could learn what Tim’s special bondage would be.

 

To be continued …

 

 

6 thoughts on “Tim the Bondage Slave – Part 7”

  1. Dalton Ott of serious bondage once told me he’d watched a guy being strapped into a leather sleep sack which had spikes sticking up. And my internet friend, hogtie.dk, has pics of a 4 inch high leather strap he’s pulled tight around his neck, secured by cable ties, which has metal spikes sticking from it into his neck, with pics afterwards of what his neck looked like after wearing it for a while. These were the inspiration I used for the punishing sleep sack in this story. Just wanted to let you know that such devices exist.

  2. I would like to experiement the sleepsack with spikes as Tim did…
    living nightmare, but sure it is an exceelnt punishment…
    anyone could do it?

  3. Yummie.
    This is well written, exciting, hot stuff!
    I’m checking for new parts of this story five times a day…
    Please go on!

  4. MisterX/spartan, just because something exists in real life doesn’t necessarily mean it should be used. Subs/slaves are all different. Wohat works for one doesn’t always work for all. Master Johnson’s anger-infused extreme punishment was even beyond the realm of cruel and unusual. He says he wants to restore Tim’s spirit, but i don’t see how that would be possible. He obliterated his spirit, it is forever gone. It was like taking a priceless glass sculpture and throwing it against a big granite rock shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces. It cannot be put back together. A Master must know his slaves well. He must know which can be fast paced through various punishments and which must be nutured more slowly. It was like Master Johnson wiped Tim’s personality from the mainframe and all that is left is a useless husk! i feel so sad for Tim; he is a fractured cell of his former self.

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