A New Way To Be

The Gimp

As he woke naturally, his rested mind began to whir slowly into action. He was blissfully content, he couldn’t remember being more relaxed – he lay completely motionless. 

As seconds ticked by, he became aware of being pleasantly surrounded by warmth. He began to stretch and extend his fingers, and as he did so, he noticed a feint aroma as he breathed in, barely perceptible, but unmistakably there. His breath was calm, shallow and barely audible, the scent was distant at first. 

Unconsciously his breathing deepened; sucking in as much air as he could. The aroma strengthened, filling his nostrils with the recognisable smell of warm, thick rubber. He wanted more of it. He found himself slowing his breath down as he filled and expanded his lungs as much as he could, craving the scent as much as the air that carried it to him. Whole minutes passed by as he filled his lungs, inviting the smell to permeate through him, rushing his exhalation to get the next fill of rubber. 

He could smell himself. He could smell his surroundings, and he loved what he smelled and how it felt. As much as he was smelling himself, he was sensing the smells of others who had worn and warmed that latex, adding their own sweat and scents, it brought him to life. He lay perfectly still, breathing in, then out, with no desire to move, utterly content. 

A noise to his side jarred him out of his trance-like state. He began to turn his head and body towards it before his attempts were abruptly terminated, his head barely moved before it stopped, he tried again to turn his head. Clink. His head would not turn. He tried to sit and lift his shoulders from where they lay. The same result. 

Panic swept over him in a rush, he gathered all his strength and pushed himself up to find himself back where he started, invisible forces preventing his efforts from succeeding. He squirmed, desperate to move something somewhere, and could then feel and hear the chains, locks and cage containing him.

He became aware of how small his cage was, and how little he could move. His zen-like state was broken. He was filled with anxiety and fear. His breath was rapid and shallow now, the calming rubber scent no longer having the same effect. He wanted out. Primal images of a caged animal flashed through his mind, he tried to gather all his will and strength to get any freedom he could.

He exhausted himself. His futile effort against the bonds had dialled up the heat he felt, he dripped with sweat that pooled beneath him.

For the first time since waking in bondage, he cried out. He’d been struggling silently, the muffled sound of chains and metal filling his ears, drowning out his panicked breaths. He tried to call out to the source of the noise that had triggered his struggle. The garbled noise he made trying to scream out only added to his panic, what he could hear was not the desperate cries his mind was aiming for. Pathetic pleading muffled moans were all he emitted out to his surroundings. As he tried shouting he felt his mouth was stuffed. His cheeks bulging, tongue uselessly depressed. He stopped trying to scream and put more energy into moving, the metallic noises his efforts created sounded deafening.

Darkness washed over him as he tried to look at himself and where he woke. Surely he’d been looking before now? He forced his eyes open as wide as he could to see. Darkness. How did it get even darker? His mind started to fill the darkness with shades of colour, and he pleaded. His eyes darting around desperate to see through the shades to see light. Nothing came. He felt alone, vulnerable and exposed. His mind struggled to comprehend this reality.

He slumped against his metal cage in defeat, as he fell his metal bonds rang out loudly against the cage, metal-on-metal, reminding him of his predicament. He had no idea how long he’d been struggling. His thick rubber suit had been warm when he woke gently, now it was radiating heat back at him.

Master

Towering above the defeated gimp was its Master; dominant and unseen. At just over six feet tall he was athletic and muscular. He felt strong, and as horny as he’d ever been, the image before him was on its own almost enough to cum. He tried to creep up on the cage and its prisoner carefully, hoping to gaze at his new prey as it slept. He’d accidentally knocked the cage as he approached, stirring the gimp into life and its futile struggle. As the gimp slid down in submission to its bonds, the master approached, resting both of his gloved hands on the cage, he gazed beyond the cage and its gimp towards the mirrored wall, reflecting the deliciously perverse scene. 

Soft lighting shone on the strict metal cage. It lay in the middle of the room, with its thick, unyielding bars, the rest of the room around the cage was shrouded in darkness. The cage was large but certainly not spacious. The gimp, lying on its back, was forced to bend its knees to fit. Its rubber hooded head rested against the cage wall, shiny thick chains extended from the multiple D-loops that adorned the thick muzzle tightly strapped over the featureless shiny black hood. 

Shiny black rubber covered the gimp, softening its features and revealing little about the captive inside. Its ankles were decorated with chunky shiny stainless steel cuffs, themselves locked to the corners of the cage by short shiny metal chains that gently clanged as the gimp struggled for space. A thick rubber straightjacket completed the outfit, the gimp’s arms were forced across its chest, strapped together by rubber straps centrally and at its sides, straps extended from the bottom of the jacket disappearing around the rubber crotch. 

A strict rubber collar completely bridged the gap between the straightjacket and the hood. Chains radiating outwards from D-loops on the gimp’s collar to the cage walls, preventing the gimp from moving more than a few centimetres in any direction.

Master smiled within his gasmask, valves clicking open and shut as he breathed gently, his dick straining against the tight leather pants he wore. Externally his expression was neutral, betraying little of the joy the Master felt at this opportunity. He’d not planned for this, he couldn’t begin to process it. 

‘Where to begin?’

His vision softened and his mind wandered, flicking through his catalogue of desires for things to do with and to this gimp of his. The Master had spent many an hour chatting online with horny men who lust after this opportunity, but this was the first time one of them had unwittingly and foolishly given themself to his whims and desire. 

Briefly, his mind considered who was luckier here, the gimp exploring his deepest desires, or himself; the dominant master who could torment and control his own totally anonymous rubbery slave, wiped of its own personality and identity. Unconsciously his gloved fingers tapped the cage, feeling one of the chains wrapped through its roof, he pulled the chain taught before letting it drop as his mind refocused on what was in front of him. The Master determined himself to be the lucky one, it was ludicrous to consider the gimp as a thing that could be lucky or content. The scene and all its opportunities belonged to the Master, and he knew it. 

The Meeting

Few knew of the Master, he liked it that way. He didn’t create a fuss in life or online. Online he barely created a ripple, few even noticed him, and his profile page revealed little to the casual browser. It was better that way, mindless conversations bored and frustrated him. The gimp was different from early on, its deferential nature was obvious. It was open. Eager to share. An eager mind that could reveal its desires. 

Master sensed the connection early on. Oh, there were those moments where the gimp came across like a horny mess that wanted nothing more than a casual fuck and play before disappearing. There had been a few moments where his finger hovered over the ‘block’ button. Something in their interaction, something within this subservient man chatting to Master kept him intrigued, stoking mutual fires of interest. 

Months of online chatting had allowed both to probe the other’s darkest and deepest desires and had led them bothtogether to this glorious moment; the beginning. The first glorious morning of many; Master alone would see this view, it wouldn’t be shared online, and the gimp certainly wouldn’t be seeing it, which is a shame, if it could see itself bound and imprisoned it would undoubtedly blow its load. Not yet. Not yet.

Master sighed again, and sat himself down, dropping his booted feet on the cage roof with a thud that the gimp was sure to feel and hear, the cage rattled as the gimp responded to its Master’s presence.

He clenched his fists and arms before releasing them. As he moved, his tight leather creaked around his taught muscular body. His gloved hand wandered to his groin where his cock was straining within his leather pants, no doubt making a mess that the gimp would clean later. He stood, glancing at a funnel gag that lay nearby, a thick rubber harness would secure and lock it around the gimp’s head. 

Though totally unnecessary to lock it on, given how incapable the gimp was to remove it; Master knew he would enjoy the performance of gently tightening the strap about the gimps rubber head, tightening it just beyond comfort to make sure gimp would feel its intrusive presence until Master decided otherwise. An inflatable bulb would make sure the gimp would swallow what flowed down into it, what it didn’t swallow wouldn’t be immediately wasted, it would add to the rich smell emanating from it. 

Master grabbed the funnel, picking it up. Reaching for the keys alongside, he identified the key for the padlock securing the cage roof before lifting it up and letting it drop down with a bang. He reached down into the cage towards the stirring gimp, holding the chains fixed to its muzzle taught, his smile broadened within the gas mask as the breath valves clicked open and shut. This was going to be fun…