Originally posted to MetalbondNYC.com

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Jeremy came to, for the umpteenth time. He had a tendency of falling asleep in bondage. On this occasion, he was securely bound in a rubber sleepsack. His head was under a layer of rubber, eyeless hood, with a layer of S10 gas mask overtop of that. The hood matched the catsuit he wore, a neck-entry job he had been slipping in and out of for play, and Saturday afternoons, for a few years. The fact that it had integrated socks and gloves made the suit extra fun for him, having always enjoyed the feeling of full enclosure, with no seams (or what he called ‘escape routes’) getting in the way. In fact, the sleepsack he was currently locked in was a back-entry zip piece, his piece of choice when playing at Phil’s.

He had been locked up in the thing for what felt like, and probably was, three or four hours. Phil had made sure Jeremy had an electro plug which comfortably, but consistently, teased his prostate. He also made sure Jeremy’s cock was securely locked in a steel chastity device — just the way they both preferred it. Upon getting Jeremy snuggly into the sack, Phil strapped belts up and down the thing, then threaded rope through the sack’s integrated D-rings to either side of the bondage bed. All that was left was a pair of noise-cancelling earphones, a little white noise piped in, and Jeremy was ready for a little Tuesday-evening meditation. Jeremy could be heard snoring as he fell into relaxed but brief bouts of sleep. And after a little teasing with the electro sessions along with a strategically placed vibrator wand, Phil eventually closed the scene, allowing Jeremy out of his bondage. Another one of their weekly sessions was over.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said Phil, chuckling. He was always a sarcastic fella.

“You know I’m thankful, you dick,” Jeremy replied, having become accustomed to Phil’s sarcastic demeanor after years of regular nights like this.

Jeremy was thankful, as always. He had a good thing going, with a great bunch of local friends. In all, their little group amounted to six pervs, who regularly played, sharing their interest of immobilization and encasement. What made the setup even better was that all of them were in fact complete switches, without formal power relationships. They were all friends — with the benefits of having a love for tying one another up on a regular basis.

Jeremy and Phil both started cleaning up Phil’s play space, a ritual as sacred as the bondage itself. Jeremy was acutely aware that Phil in particular liked a clean space, along with the aftercare effect the action of cleaning gave him. In this light, Jeremy knew that Phil enjoyed being used as a domestic slave, in bondage of course. He took advantage of this on occasion when Phil came over to his generally messy apartment.

“Have you heard of this new guy in town?” Phil asked Jeremy absent-mindedly.

“You mean the one who only goes by ‘O.E.T.’?” Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about him.

In fact, from the group, Jeremy had heard quite a bit about O.E.T. The first mention of him came from Mark, who touted him as having an insane gear collection, notably a chair that Mark wouldn’t stop talking about. Jack had also touted the guy as being purportedly the best bondage fuck he’d ever received. Finally, Graham had had a few things to say about him. Like Mark and Jack, Graham had played with O.E.T., having been suspended for a long session, only Graham, always the suspicious one, had shown a little more reservation towards him, owing to his unwillingness to divulge where O.E.T. had learned his craft.

All, however, had been quite adamant that O.E.T. was quite gifted in mind-fucking each of them. He seemed to have an almost uncanny ability to find and exploit their individual fantasies, and set up bondage scenes accordingly.

“We’ve just been calling him ‘Sir’,” Phil replied.

Jeremy was surprised to hear that his friends had been communicating, playing, and even becoming casual with this guy. Not that he took issue over it. He knew his friends to be safe and sane, but like Graham, Jeremy was also the ever-suspicious one, keeping his guard up until trust was established. Knowing this, and knowing his friends had at least talked to O.E.T., Jeremy figured the best thing to do would be to reach out and see for himself. He did wonder, though.

“Do you know if Jake has met the guy?” Jeremy inquired. Jake was the sixth member of their little group, who had been traveling for work for the past four weeks. He sent a few of his friends updates on the trip, but none had really discussed anything substantive.

Phil thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, once he heard that Sir was into watersports, he went for a session. At least that’s what he told me in one of his emails.” Jake’s biggest kink was bondage and watersports. Unfortunately, not everyone in the group shared this kink, though they did indulge the bound Jake with a funnel gag from time to time.

Later that night, the horned-up sensation of bondage, denial, along with the residual smell of his latex kept him thinking about O.E.T. Having jotted down ‘Sir’s’ contact information from Phil, he contacted him, asking if he’d be interested in meeting. To Jeremy’s liking, he received a response within ten minutes:

“Nice to meet you, Jeremy. I’ve already had the pleasure of meeting your friends Jack, Graham, Mark, Jake and Phil. Seems like you have a great little bondage brotherhood there. I would very much like to meet the sixth member of the group. Give me an idea of the kinds of fantasies which turn you right on, and I will set up a scene which will blow your mind. Get back to me soon. 

-Sir”

Jeremy was surprised. Perhaps it was because he had expected someone a little more firm, or at least a little more dominant. But this might simply have been a down-to-earth guy being friendly during an initial communication. Either way, Jeremy obliged, responding with a general idea of his likes: the usual bondage, complete immobilization, denial and storage. He offered one fantasy, involving a scene where he was immobilized in a sleepsack, then a rigid, form-fitting case, kept hidden under the floorboards, so only his top and he knew his location and predicament. In this fantasy, Jeremy would be kept in a spiked chastity device, with regular stimulation of his prostate and electro wired to the chastity tube. He received another reply within minutes of sending this.

“All that sounds right up my alley. I’d very much like to host you here. I understand if you feel any apprehension towards moving straight to play, but I’m sure your friends have been more than reassuring, already.

-Sir”

Sir left his coordinates, and soon he and Jeremy had a play date scheduled.

The day soon came, and Jeremy made his way to O.E.T.’s home. After a drive out to the outer suburbs, he found the residence, and was struck by what he saw. The house was impressive. A modern construction of slate and glass, set on roughly an acre of land, the nearest neighbor roughly a hundred yards up the street. The house had clearly just been built, evidenced by the lack of mature trees on the plot, along with the still-visible creases in the lawn sod. As requested by O.E.T, Jeremy parked his car in the laneway by the garage door, exited, and walked to the front door. He rang the bell, and was greeted by ‘Sir.’

In front of him was a man of no more than 35. He has a tall, slim build, ink visible on both arms, cropped brown hair, subtle steel barbells in both ears, and piercing brown eyes. If he had to guess, Jeremy would have taken him for a techie, like so many others in this city. Sir’s immediate stature was neither threatening, nor intimidating. To Jeremy, he looked like he’d fit into the group nicely.

“Hi Jeremy, I’m Sir. Please, come in,” he said, closing the door after Jeremy had entered the thoroughly modern home. “I hope you like the place. I just had it built and am still working out a few of the details. Sir gave Jeremy a quick tour of the main floor. “I trust that your friends have told you everything you need to know about me, and since you showed up, I assume you’re satisfied with their words of wisdom. Follow me.”

Sir led Jeremy down the hallway, and with the flick of his smartwatch, a hidden door opened out of a wall. “I built this house with concealment in mind,” he chuckled. Before them was a staircase leading down into a basement, curiously featuring a 12-foot ceiling. The basement featured a pair of doors. “I had function and kink in-mind,” he added. Through the first door was a large workshop, easily taking up three quarters of the basement’s area. Jeremy noticed dozens of power tools, presses and many other items he could only recognize as heavy machinery. There was even a garage door leading to what Jeremy assumed was the backyard. “I love making my own little toys.” Sir then led Jeremy to the second door. “This is my gear room,” he said as he opened the door to a smaller, but still sizeable space, filled neatly to the brim with every kind of bondage, rubber, leather, neoprene, PVC and spandex gear imaginable.

Jeremy took it all in. He loved the sight, feel and smell of gear, particularly of rubber. The objectifying, dehumanizing sensation of being encased in layers of it, with each layer rendering him more and more immobile, at the mercy of the one person zipping up the zippers, fastening the buckles, and locking the padlocks. Walking into all this gear, he couldn’t help but give pieces a feel and get a whiff. He reached the middle of the room, with Sir in toe. No use in trying to hide his erection. He was a seasoned player, and was practically drooling at the thought of some inescapable bondage with Sir.

“Well, let me explain what I plan on doing with you this evening. Firstly, we’re going to get you into quite a bit of rubber, then we’re going to be storing you upstairs. I’m looking forward to seeing how well you remain quiet and blend in with the background.”

At this point, Sir produced a full catsuit, glossy black, with integrated feet, gloves and hood. Opening the back zip, he handed the piece to Jeremy, who had almost instantly stripped in preparation for and in anticipation of encasement. He slid his feet in the lightly lubed suit, followed by his legs, expertly smoothing out any wrinkles in the latex. Pulling the suit past his crotch, he couldn’t help but notice a pouch in the crotch area, lined in a hard shell of very thick and rigid rubber.

“For our first time together, I think I’ll just keep you frustrated without the need of a chastity cage. Once you’re in your predicament, you’ll be unable to rub much. However, if you do manage to blow a load, there will be no reprieve for you until I’m ready.”

Jeremy understood, and continued putting the catsuit on. Once he had the integrated hood over his head, Sir zipped the rear zip, finishing it off with the distinct click of a small padlock. Sir then produced a new hood, this one eyeless, with an anatomical mold, finished off with a tube gag. He pulled it over Jeremy’s head, effectively leaving him blind. Following this, Jeremy felt a pair of rubber fist mitts locked onto his hands. Lastly, a collar and leash were buckled around his neck. Feeling a pull on the leash, he was led up a flight of stairs, and through several twists and turns, until stopped. Once stopped, he heard the sound of an actuator, the snap-sound of opening clamps, followed by Sir’s voice:

“Alright boy, I want you to slowly sit down. Once there, you’ll feel a depression behind you. I want you to then turn and lie down in the depression.”

Jeremy did as he was ordered. He found himself in a padded space sized just right for him to comfortably lie in. He then felt movement on the breathing tube, which was obviously being attached to something. A cover was then closed, clips clipped shut, and then the distinct sound of the actuator motor. Following this, he felt his entire world start to contract and tighten. Having experienced something like this before, he recognized it immediately as the lining around him inflating to hold him rigidly in place, completely unable to move a muscle. Sir’s voice cracked into a speaker set just to the side of his immobilized head.

“Here’s what’s happening, boy. You’re currently safely confined in the false-bottom of my living-room sofa. From outside, it appears as a regular, black leather couch, and given its framing, along with the bolts holding to the floor, and the lining of that case kept inflated by a compressor in the basement, no one except I will know you’re in there. This evening I have a working dinner planned with some colleagues. We will be doing most of our meeting and work in this very room. You will remain there, and not bother my guests, not that I’m worried that you will. As I told you earlier, this home was built with concealment in mind. To me there’s nothing hotter than having a sub stored away in plain sight.”

“I’ve really taken to your friends, by the way. Clearly you’re all into objectification in your own way. This became abundantly clear to me when they, like you, shared their fantasies with me.”

Jeremy acutely recalled some of the fantasies he had heard, over the years, from his friends. He remembered Jack mentioning being perpetually hooked up to a pair of fuck machines, working both his mouth and ass, while being trapped in rigid bondage, his other senses bombarded by audio and video sounds and sights of heavy bondage and S&M. Mark loved the concept of human furniture, similar to the predicament Jeremy was currently in, though Mark had always preferred the fantasy of being of use only to the person responsible for his predicament. Jake had wanted to be forced into anything involving watersports, like being a public urinal pig, bound to a wall in a dank bathroom. Phil loved the idea of serving his Sir, as a lube or clean-up slave, while remaining bound. As for Graham, well, Graham wasn’t so much into objectification as he was suspension. That much Jeremy was sure of.

“I’ve enjoyed playing with all of you, and am so glad you finally made it out to see me. Now sit back and enjoy being a piece of furniture, boy. Only you and I know you’re here.”

The speaker went dead, and Jeremy was trapped. Cock hard, he began testing out his bonds, he found the slight ability to thrust on the rigid piece encasing his cock and balls. Realizing just how immobile he was simply made him harder. Within minutes he heard the muffled sound of chatter around him. There were people in the house. He felt the tiniest of a thud, realizing that someone had sat on the couch. He could feel them move around! He wanted to yell out, but knew better than to give himself up. He then heard a new crackle in the speaker.

“So, Earl, what do you think of the place?” said Sir.

“Love it. It really fits you.” Responded an unfamiliar voice.

“How about that couch? I had it custom-made” Sir asked.

“So comfortable. I could live on this couch,” proclaimed the unfamiliar voice.

“Wonderful,” said Sir, “I know THE COUCH would never argue with that.”

Hearing those words, Jeremy shot a massive load. He would shoot twice more before hearing the voices exit the room, followed by the front door. Shortly after that, the lining of the box deflated, and he once again heard the actuator, the clips and the lid opened up. Jeremy was led back downstairs, where the gear was unlocked and removed.

“Four hours. Not bad,” Sir indicated.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“How do you feel?”

“Still horny, Sir. Thank you.”

“Listen, I like to play a game with my subs, which involves them keeping the details of our scenes between us, and us alone. Would you indulge me, and not tell the others about my couch? They’ll find out about it in due time, and I don’t like spoiling the surprises of my home.”

“No problem, Sir,” replied Jeremy. He loved mind games like this.

Sir watched Jeremy dress, and walked him up the stairs. Jeremy asked to use the washroom before leaving, to which Sir happily obliged. Upon entering the main floor washroom, Jeremy couldn’t help but notice the presence of a urinal on the wall. “Definitely designed by a perv,” Jeremy thought as he relieved himself and pressed the button, which silently flushed the urinal. After washing his hands, he exited to the hallway.

“Like it? I had urinals installed in all the bathrooms. A few of them are set up for some covert watersports, too,” said Sir. “Don’t worry. I know this is mainly Jake’s thing. I can’t tell you how much fun he had here when we first met.”

The two agreed to meet again soon, and Jeremy walked to his car, driving away from the house.

Upon closing the front door, Sir returned to the washroom to relieve himself using the silent-flushing urinal. He smiled as he pressed the button opening the valve, allowing his piss to drain. Having zipped his fly, he pressed a button on his smartwatch, and a panel next to the urinal slid open. He stepped down two steps into a small room, set behind the bathroom wall. In the center of the room was a molded fiberglass case, with clips holding its two sides together. Pipes converged into a large one at the top of the molded case. Running his hands over the smooth case, Sir unclipped the clasps holding its two pieces together, splitting the halves apart. He smiled at what he saw.

In front of him was a steel frame, containing a black rubber figure. The figure was strapped in one-piece heavy-gauge molded suit, keeping its occupant in a strict hogtie position. The form was on its knees, with attachments linked to the steel frame keeping it stood up. It wore a heavy posture collar, with a thick, faceless hood on the figure’s head. The latex appeared to have no entry points, and was composed of bonded seams. Sir knew full well that the unit in this suit was a permanent addition to his home. The tube entering the fiberglass case led into the mouth of the suit’s occupant, with another tube leading from the form’s crotch area to the mouth tube. Sir built the system to recycle waste randomly, while at other times it would dispose of it. The system kept the occupant’s muscles active through electric stimulation, and periodically filled the suit with water and a cleaning solution to keep the occupant relatively clean. It also kept the occupant plugged and fed via the hose in the plug, in addition of course to any nutrients it received in its mouth.

Sir put his hand on the figure’s head, which elicited an immediate response of struggle and muffled moans coming from the mouth, which remained forced open. Sensing the movement, Sir’s system introduced a mild anesthetic to the occupant’s air supply, calming it down.

“You’re working out nicely, boy. I’ve decided to keep you here to process the house’s urinals indefinitely. And just so you know, one of tonight’s loads belonged to a friend of yours. You remember Jeremy? Soon he and his friends will be back, and you all will be together again.”

The figure once again frantically struggled against its bondage, belting out muffled screams as Sir closed the case, clasped it shut, re-engaged the pipe, and exited the hidden room. That night, before turning in, he took one last piss in the urinal of his master bath. He smiled as he pressed the flush button, knowing that this would actuate the valve in the pipe, forcing his stream of piss into the mouth of his victim.

“Jake is working out beautifully,” said Sir to himself as he hopped into bed.