By an anonymous friend of Metalbond
At first it appeared as an inanimate black silhouette, the reflective outline of a lifeless mannequin, folded and chained inside steel bars. As the lighting intensified, however, efforts at movement were obvious. When the compact package struggled to squirm, the exertions showed an unmistakably male form, masculine and athletic, sealed in rubber, and contorted by bondage.
Hogtied and anchored within a small metal cage, the lean muscles of the gymnastic body were encased in skintight latex from head to toe. Imprisoned hands, clenched in fist position, were trapped in padlocked rubber mitts, over which steel cuffs were visible. Sturdy-looking joints were flexed, muscular limbs folded, doubled up on each other. Elbows, wrists, thighs, knees, ankles, arms, and legs appeared to be relentlessly strapped together, lashed down, fastened, manacled, and scrupulously interconnected.
En pointe moccasins of thick, black rubber encased its feet. Cinched together, folded legs, extended feet and strictly pointed toes were tied forward to the top of the head, where a leather head harness stretched over a rubber hood. Links of taught chains from the hogtied body to the bars of the cage connected cuffed ankles, trussed knees, and a metal ring at the front of a wide posture collar. The smooth, continuous surface of the muzzled chin and mouth was interrupted by the protrusion of a tube, extending to a funnel suspended outside the cage.
Inside the cage, under the meticulously applied restraints, the hogtied rubber slave appeared to hump the metal floor, but its efforts achieved little movement. Clenching and relaxing its muscular buttocks, grinding its pelvis into the hard surface, it wrestled energetically against immobility. Fastened together by a short chain between them, head and feet jerked in place, reinforcing the bowed hogtie position and arch of the slave’s back. Sounds of creaking restraints and rubber were audible.
Soon the slave could be heard moaning and swallowing loudly, as a deep voice from off-camera commanded, “Keep drinking pig.” The camera pulled back, expanding the view just enough to show the hairy legs of a man standing near the cage. Thick with girth and heavily veined, the man’s big, semi-erect cock gushed intermittently, generously squirting mouthful portions of piss into the slave’s funnel.
Bouncing and thrusting to work the intricacies of the complex hogtie, bearing down to crush its crotch against the cage floor, the slave erupted in a confusion of noisy gulping and high-pitched grunts. The scene ended as the cum shot faded, the video darkened, and white letters of a caption scrolled across the screen: SEALED, HOGTIED, AND CAGELOCKED FOR 5 HOURS, RUBBERPIG CUMS MULTIPLE TIMES.
As THE END appeared, a spurt of live cum splattered across the computer screen. Finally giving in, Tim’s cock fully erupted, driven by what Tim had just watched on his computer. Another shot of goo hit as Tim, milking his spectacular eruption, pounded compulsively. He felt a rare, sequential orgasm take hold. “Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Tim exploded again, propelling glop upward, onto his chin, as the second climax overtook him.
Hours later in bed, unable to sleep, Tim tried to remember the last time he experienced doubleheader monster climaxes. His mind surveyed the five years that had passed since he had been the caged pig in the video. Bondage-induced multiple ejaculations were not unusual then, especially if Ross kept him locked in chastity in between sessions. Tim tried to recall the exact day of the rubberpig video.
As he searched his memories, Tim’s hands explored his hard, pumped up body; more muscle had accumulated with years of working out. It felt fantastic. He flexed his pectorals, stroked his cock, and tweaked his erect nipples. He pictured himself as a fitness model in a sportswear ad he had done recently and contrasted it with a remembered image of himself during his rubberpig days. He replayed the hogtie video in his mind to summon the sensations. Sealed in at least two or three layers, he wasn’t sure. Tightly hooded, muzzled, and mouth-tubed. A huge butt plug locked underneath. Crammed into a locked cage. The exaggerated, intense hogtie. All-consuming arousal. Unsuppressible erections. Mind-blowing rubber bondage. Body-wrenching orgasms.
In the darkness of his bedroom, flexing naked muscle under the bed sheets, Tim pumped his overstimulated cock, rigid again now. The erection made it easy to re-imagine the straightforward, horniest moments. But Tim knew there was more to it than horniness… much more. The psychology of Ross’s need for control. The long-term aspects of endurance Ross loved to explore. Hours of bondage, imprisonment, isolation. A sense of time passing and erections gone. Trapped body heat and sweat. Cramped muscles. Denial of relief for the simplest needs, like an itchy nose. Body functions controlled by Ross. Plugged orifices. Limbs desperate for movement. Bladder full and aching. Ass corked by a huge rubber invader. Feelings of intense regret. Thinking fuck get me out of this. Everything becoming an ordeal. The new flood of bitter tasting piss, thinking please no, not more, but swallowing it down fast. Thinking fuck let me out now. Eager for release, but left to wait, damn how much longer. Waiting, waiting… waiting for Ross.
“Oh-oh-oh, oh SHIT, fuck.” Tim pinched a nipple with one hand and pummeled his cock with the other. Beating off to memories of waiting for Ross easily provoked another eruption, and he milked it for full impact. Less intense than earlier but still satisfying, the orgasm subsided quickly. Tim relaxed, catching his breath. He lay still, trying to convince himself to get up to wash himself. But he felt lazy, if not sleepy.
Minutes passed as the ejaculate liquefied, becoming more fluid, running down his thigh, mixing into the bed sheets. His mind wondered, thinking about Ross’s move to San Francisco years ago, his invitation for Tim to move there; Tim’s fear of disappearing completely, with no job, family or friends to offset Ross’s control; Tim’s eventual, wrenching choice not to go. A year of therapy (‘there’s more to life than rubber bondage addiction’) had influenced Tim to finally break off all contact with Ross, ending the enduring saga of Ross and Tim. That had been about three years ago. Soon after, Tim pursued local rubber contacts, even reconnecting with Brad. He hooked up with many hot men, but none approached the magnitude of what he had experienced with Ross. Along the way Tim explored his dominant tendencies too, but nothing seemed to satisfy. A few months later, Tim purged his life of kink, discarding all of his rubber and fetish gear. His compulsive masturbation subsided, and thoughts of Ross faded. A series of vanilla relationships had followed.
Tim’s year or two of kink-free life had been going pretty well until a few weeks ago. Between boyfriends and a little bored, with no therapists or significant others to consult, for fun he started looking for Ross on the internet. Ross was not difficult to find, and Tim’s cock had been hard ever since. Now, once and again, Ross dominated his fantasies and masturbation sessions. It had been Ross who launched Tim’s addiction to rubber, made him appreciate it as a form of bondage. To find him again, Tim joined a few rubber websites. The internet proliferation of gay rubber bondage and blog sites astonished and (sort of reluctantly) excited him. He easily searched out Ross on one of them. Tim was not that surprised to discover that Ross’s profile incorporated old bondage photos and a few perverted videos of Tim as his rubberpig, such as the hogtie episode. Rolling over in bed, Tim envisioned his favorite image from that era. It was vintage Ross, employing glossy black, head to toe encapsulation of Tim’s athletic form, encased in an extra tight rubber sleepsack and strapped securely to a narrow cot. The simple caption read, “bedtime.” Tim wondered how many sleepless nights he had spent sealed up and strapped down, waiting for morning, wondering how much longer.
Tim admitted to himself that he missed it: the encasement and restraint, the suppression of panic, fighting the need to struggle for release, Ross’s passion for control and sadistic satisfaction in keeping Tim bound up in rubber. He shook his head to rid himself of the image of himself as a sleepsacked rubber pig. “No! Things are better now, definitely better,” his inner voice insisted. When he had finally ceased all contact with Ross, he felt liberated from Ross’s narcissistic ego. He had independence and freedom from Ross’s obsessive control. His mind was clear of fixation on Ross. He had total command of himself. No longer bound and stored on weekends, recycling piss (“Why did I ever let that happen?” Tim reminded himself), Tim had more time to devote to friends and hobbies, studying classic cinema, one of his interests, and building muscle, another. His part-time career as a fitness model was fun. And he never wanted to consume piss again, even if it came from Ross.
Tim continued his internal dialogue: “Better to jerk off to a video than be stuck hogtied in a cage and drinking piss.” Still in bed, Tim turned on his back and stared up into the darkness. He deliberately began fantasizing about his latest crush, the hot new personal trainer at his gym, a perfect specimen with a killer smile, but Tim felt too restless to concentrate. Suddenly Tim realized why he wasn’t able to sleep. Out of bed now with lights on, he sat naked at his desk and activated his computer. It took a few minutes to log into the site. He hoped it was not too late to “unsend” the private message. He checked the time; about 4 hours had passed. Tim’s heart pounded. Why had he let his cock guide him? The welcome page loaded on his computer screen. He inhaled sharply, swearing to himself at the adrenaline rush: MESSAGE WAITING. “Fuck!” Tim clicked and the message opened:
Subject: re Hi
Sent: 10/30/09 11:30 PM
Hi, pig. Good to hear from u. ur profile pic looks hot – u becoming a gym bunny? why isn’t ur head shaved? and why aren’t u sealed in rubber? I have a partner now. We’re looking for a 24/7 pig for our dungeon. position is listed under my partner’s profile – GearDom. u still a pig? let me know if u r looking for 24/7. Master R.
>Hi, Sir. It’s Tim. Saw your profile and recognized you. How are things?
Tim found the profile for GearDom. At the top of the screen, the primary photo showed buzzcut black hair on a young man’s large head and handsome face shaded by heavy stubble, well developed muscles on a tall, strapping frame, tattooed shoulders and biceps, and beefy pectoral muscles, dark with bristle, partially concealed by a rubber vest. The profile listed age 29, weight 195, height 6’1″, hair black, eyes brown, hairy chest and legs, shaved balls, thick 8 inch cock. Scene interests: total coverage, layering, full black rubber latex, head to toe gear. Like to watch sweaty rubber subs squirming in long term rubber bondage.
Grabbing his cock, Tim continued reading.
Relationship status: Partnered with RubrSadist. Seeking a permanent pig for our rubber bondage dungeon and padded storage cell. Position requires fulltime service in rubber, strict inescapable bondage, and incarceration. Our facility is fully monitored, safe, well equipped & u will be in heavy gear, including rubber encasement, also leather, steel restraints, escape-proof confinement, secure storage. Tight sleepsacks, constricting straitjackets, snug hoods, thick gags, wide posture collars, heavy steel collars, locked cages, cells, prison, chains, shackles, long dildos, fat butt plugs, chastity belts, handcuffs, humiliation, endurance, predicament & stress bondage, imprisonment, leg irons, manacles, metal bondage, no escape, no release, total control, shaved, piss, sweat, punishments, spanking, forced workouts, whipping, TT/CBT. Oh, and did we mention bondage? We want sincere applicants only, age 25 to 35, must be in excellent shape, lean but well muscled, height < 6′ preferred, no family or work commitments. Have plenty of visiting subs but want fulltime pig that is a seasoned, resilient, obedient slave with past experience in heavy bondage, leather, rubber, plugs, gags, S/M, control, restrictions, long term confinement, and lots of bondage. Send message to apply for trial abduction, one week minimum.
Tim’s cock had risen up, painfully erect and pulsating between his legs. He let it go, returned to Ross’s message, and quickly typed in a response.
Sir, yes i am looking to be 24/7 pig
Tim clicked SEND, logged off, and jumped into bed. He enclosed his excruciating erection in his right fist, pumping until it gave up a searing ejaculation. Gasping for breath, Tim let go of his cock and punched his pillow. “Holy shit,” Tim said aloud. “Why is my cock so fucking greedy?” As he recovered from the orgasm, Tim thought, “I should get up again and delete my reply before he reads it.” Instead, finally enveloped by post-orgasmic fatigue, Tim turned on his side and relaxed his head into a pillow. Within minutes, he conked out, slipping into a deep sleep.
To be continued …
For earlier chapters of Waiting for Ross:
Hey guys, how do you like this story?
If you are so inclined, you may wish to look up the many PREVIOUS installments of Waiting for Ross that are widely published on various other bondage kink sites, including Eckie, Rubberzone, Rubber Gimp and many others.