Photo from the amazing @RubberScotty

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BONG

The seatbelt sign faded with a soft chime, and passengers around me began unbuckling their belts as they prepared to disembark the aircraft. I was seated in a window seat and took the time, before the doors were opened, to gaze out at the tarmac. The crew on the ground steadily began unloading luggage and prepping the aircraft for its next destination. Hard at work, they didn’t seem to be bothered by the light rain that was showering on them. Light droplets scurried their way down the airplane window. I sighed aloud, checked my phone, and noted the time was just after 5 p.m. We’d landed sixteen minutes earlier than planned, a relief since I needed a piss badly but still didn’t want to be late to meet Him.

It all began months ago, when I first stumbled into his orbit by accident. Back then, I had recently broken up with my ex of three years, and seeking some new experiences, I revived my interest in fetish and BDSM. It took a prolonged back seat during my last relationship since my ex was pretty adverse to kink. It was a struggle to keep such a deep part of myself hidden away, bolted shut in the darkest crevice of my soul. Ultimately, the relationship ended, but not for a lack of trying. It fizzled out, and we both decided to go our separate ways.

I resolved to concentrate on my own needs moving forward. I had a past of trying to please others, but it always seemed to backfire on me. It was time to steer my life in the direction of my own priorities; the reins were there, I just had to take them. 

That’s how I found myself here in a country I’d never visited before. I’d organised a trip to visit a dominant, bondage Master that I’d been chatting to for a couple of weeks. I was drawn to Him instantly. He cruised me on a kink-focused dating app where I lazily threw a few images on my profile. He messaged me first, although his greeting was intensely direct and initially put me off. He was completely unfiltered.

“I don’t normally go for guys like you, but reading your profile got me intrigued. Tell me more about yourself…”

I should have rolled my eyes and ignored him. It was just a rude statement, and I hovered over the block button. Another message appeared, prompting me to reconsider.

“I can tell you’ve taken a break from fetish for a few years… your pics are all from 2019. I’m curious to find out why?”

I suspected he probably wasn’t being cruel, just… curious. I sighed and tapped out a quick reply. 

“I’ve been in a relationship with someone who wasn’t kinky the last few years. We broke up, and now I’m looking to get back into it.”

I might have provided too much info. It wasn’t a sensitive subject, but I felt attacked by his words.

“So you were putting your partner before yourself? That’s very stupid.”

I audibly scoffed in disgust at his reply. Again, the defensive emotion took over.

“Don’t call me stupid. This isn’t how you talk to people.”

“Forgive me. I wasn’t saying you were stupid, I was saying it’s a stupid situation to be in. You should be always putting your own desires and wants above all things. English isn’t my first language so it’s a bit rusty :)” 

I felt a twang of regret. Feeling an uncomfortable awkwardness, I decided to switch the topic. 

“So what else about my profile made you curious?”

“Ur honesty :)”

It was a one-word reply. I had expected a few sentences or a bit more context from his answer, but it was so vague.

“Ok lol. Is that all?”

“You give the impression that you don’t have great experience but eager to learn. You don’t have much gear but you also don’t take plain photos to compensate. 🙂 You are direct about your likes and dislikes. I feel I trust you just from reading this haha.”

At first, I thought it was all bravado. His directness was relentless, but not without a caring overtone. We began discussing our favourite fetishes, and I was pleasantly surprised by the overlap. Where we differed was in our preference for role, with him enjoying being the dominant, and me, the submissive. The more we spoke, the more I began to interpret his messages in a different light. Maybe I was giving him the benefit of the doubt as he expressed himself honestly without needing to hide anything.

“I like playing with guys the same age as me. I prefer they are experienced, mature and obsessed with all things kinky. But I think you are very cute and interested to see if we click.”

I blushed at the comment, which lit up my screen. I felt dense for being excited by a simple flirty statement. I dusted it off and replied with a simple ‘thanks lol’.

As conversations went on, he divulged more about his kinky lifestyle on a day-to-day basis. I read each word with lust-filled fascination and desire. Based in Malmö, he had an extensive collection of kinky gear, well beyond my horny imagination. He sent boner-inducing photo after photo describing in detail his playroom, complete with bondage equipment, a metal cage, a rubber bed, and even a padded cell. His fetish wardrobe was equally impressive, filled with an array of rubber suits, bondage items, hoods, biker leathers, sleepsacks, and every item I had dreamt of owning. My earlier doubt of this stranger faded, as I realised how lucky I was to be conversing with such a twisted expert. 

Over time, what began as playful sparring grew into a genuine, kinky friendship. He had this knack for pulling my darkest fantasies out of me, the horniest thoughts imaginable. Some that I didn’t even know I possessed. We’d talk late into the night, his intensity still intimidating, but this set off a dark, disturbing pleasure deep within me. One particular conversation that stuck like wax to the inside of my fetish-brain was how he described his numerous trips on his Ducati Panigale, only with a perverted twist.

Far from a simple bike trip on a summer’s afternoon.  He would be dressed in flawless black leather before sealing himself in a plastic-coated rain suit. What sounded like a conscious, practical choice of attire took a distinctly depraved route, the more he explained his ritual. He exposed each layer of his encasement alongside an accompanying photo, describing in vivid detail each individual coating. 

It began with a pair of skin-tight sheath shorts formed from thick, black rubber. I could tell by the image he shared that it was an exact fit, hugging his well-endowed cock and balls with a measured precision. His wide, muscular thighs were covered in the black material, the shorts ending just above his knees. A portion of his waist was also covered in the rubber as the top reached up to his belly button. I gaped lustfully at the intensely explicit image. He replied with a cheeky comment before continuing.

“No getting a boner just yet! IT gets much better ;)”

The next erotic photo depicted the domineering male adding the first of many full-body coverings to his muscular body. His face was out of shot in each, so I still couldn’t tell what he looked like. His anonymity made it more exciting anyway. A full rubber suit, appearing wrinkle-free, was packed tightly around his body. His erect rubber-cock created a distinct bulge in the delictable codpiece of the suit. There was incredible definition to his bulging arms and stocky shoulders highlighted within the confining suit. Only his hands and feet remained untouched by the ebony-black rubber. My boner now throbbed in desperate need. 

“What you can’t see is a nice plug inside, it will come in handy for later…”

“You like to be plugged??”

“Not all the time but in this case since I can’t touch my cock with the next few layers it gives me some stimulation. It is electro and also vibrates! A happy rubber guy in there haha”

The next photo sequence showed the muscular Dom in a Dainese T-Age leather suit. The surface was supple black, hiding the perverted rubber layer inside. The thickness of the leather generously padded out the male’s already stocky build. His shoulders appeared clunkier. The panelling on the suit’s upper body drew my eye to his well-proportioned chest. I imagined being held firmly, inhaling the harsh scent of leather in pure delight. White markings on the body of the suit flowed down from the neck, splitting at the abdomen and tracing their way down to his padded knees. Almost like heavy armour, the suit looked immaculate. My cock throbbed hungrily once more.

With another image, another addition to the kinky layers. The attire now included motorbike boots, jet-black and clunky, matching the suit flawlessly. I also spotted that the perverted rider was now wearing some biker gloves. Full gauntlets, like knuckle armor. My mind wandered to the lustful thought of those bulky, padded fingers wrapped around my exposed cock.  

The fifth photo almost had me cumming with an intense growl. A final deeply fetishistic layer was now added—the Radical Speed rain suit. The Dainese leathers were smothered beneath the black rain suit, so polished and glossy that it gleamed like oil on water. It looked so obscene in its perverted perfection. The material clung mercilessly to the figure in the image. A faceless being sculpted from gloss. My horny-imagination was in overdrive. I pictured myself naked, kneeling next to this God of black, oily perversion. His gloved hand tracing my eager mouth as I would stare up at his enormous plastic-coated body. Knowing I was so desperately eager to be taken as his sexual stress toy. FUCK.

At last, the pièce de résistance. A final image of the dominant figure covered from head to toe, a picture that would imprint itself in my overstimulated brain. His head was now on show, however, instead of a human face, a sleek black helmet was positioned on top of the heavily armoured body. The visor hid any trace of humanity underneath. The longer I stared transfixed at the image on my phone, the more my brain fogged over as if I was in a fetishistic daze. I was craving His touch, orders, cock, cum… EVERYTHING!

After about a minute of furious masturbation, another message popped up as I realised I hadn’t replied.

“So what would u do if you met me out while riding like this ;)?” 

“FUCK. I can’t even think. I’d just stare with the biggest boner ever haha”

“Well… maybe we can organise sometime”

We continued speaking for weeks, where eventually, the idea of meeting stopped being a distant, playful fantasy and started to feel inevitable. He’d tease about it constantly: dramatic declarations like;

“You wouldn’t survive five minutes in this kind of bondage!!!! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

But underneath the exaggeration, I could sense a challenge. I wanted to experience everything he promised to give me. So we decided. After months of sharing horny ideas, flirting, and intense masturbation, we made the leap into reality. 

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Back to the present day, and I queued for the exit of the aircraft. I gazed over my message history with him. He had given me strict orders for the trip ahead. An intense list of gear to pack, location and time for arrival, what to wear during the flight, and instructions to obey while in his presence. He purposefully didn’t go into any detail about what this long and horny weekend would entail. That made me extremely nervous. With a sick feeling in my stomach and a straining cock, I could only wonder. I spent most of the flight daydreaming about numerous scenarios. I imagined how it would feel to be forced into a rubber sleepsack and tucked into a rubber bed for the night, which he described in vivid detail on many occasions. If I wasn’t careful, I’d work myself up into a frenzy and shoot my load while I went to piss in the bathroom.

Immigration was a breeze, and I hurried towards the bathroom, opting to use a stall instead of the urinal. This was a conscious decision given the clothing I was ordered to wear under my shiny black puffer and trackies. Locking the door to the cubicle, I hung up my backpack and pulled down the waistband of my sweats. What revealed itself to the world was a chastity cage fitted around my straining cock. I was extremely embarrassed when, at airport security, I was guided to a private room to have my locked cock investigated further by officers. I could feel their judgmental stares as I dropped my pants to reveal a cock locked firmly in a black silicone cage. It didn’t stop there. I was also ordered to wear some rubber underwear, something that during the entire journey, I could feel riding against my sensitive skin. 

I unzipped and hung up my black puffer and dropped my trackies to my ankles. If I wanted to piss, I’d have to stop thinking such erotic thoughts. A few seconds later, I managed to let out a stream that I’d been desperate to release. Cleaning myself up, I fixed the rubber Y-fronts back in position and donned my jacket. I dove out of the cubicle and splashed my hands under the hot taps. I took a prolonged look at my appearance in the mirror. I’d recently been a bit adventurous and had my hair styled in a mohawk, the ultimate fetish cut. My ears were pierced, and my septum was soon to follow. I grinned at my own reflection and took notice of the fact that I looked far from innocent. 

My bag was one of the last to arrive on the carousel, and frantically checking my phone again, I realised I was now 4 minutes behind and counting. I had clearly overpacked, as my suitcase needed plenty of effort to drag behind me as I briskly walked towards the terminal exit. 

Luckily, the walk from the arrivals entrance to the car park, where I was instructed to meet him, was mostly sheltered. The light rain had altered into a shower, and I didn’t fancy arriving like a drowned rat for our first meet-up. I entered a multi-story car park and headed for the third floor. Opening the door to the stairwell, I had a flash of horror as I read the out of order sign on the only elevator in the space. I could try and look for an alternative, but I was already 15 minutes late. Surely this was out of my control. Although I knew I was being naive to think I wouldn’t be punished for this.

“Excuse me, do you need some help?”

A muffled voice called out behind, causing me to jump. I turned to find a forty-something male in a raincoat. He had a relatively stocky build, and he towered over me, given the gent was roughly 6’2”. 

“Oh uhhh.” 

I looked at the stairs and then back at the kind man in a raincoat. 

“No, I think I’ll be fine… thanks though.” 

He just grinned at my reply and went to walk past me and up the stairs. I stood for a few seconds, staring intently at my suitcase, trying to muster up the energy to make it to the third floor without needing spinal surgery afterward.

“Last chance!”

I chucked a polite reply.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

“You don’t look like you’d be able to manage on your own. I guess this is why you’re a bottom.”

WHAT THE FUCK? I looked dumbfounded at the total stranger. 

“What… did you say?” 

I hesitated.

“Haha I forgot that you’ve never seen my face. I wanted to have some more fun, but oh well.”

My heart thumped in my chest, a bit from nerves but also from the awkward encounter. I brushed it off and drank in the sight of him again, now aware of his true character. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had some delays and-”

“You’ll pay for it later.” 

He had a shit-eating grin on his face, but there was a sexually teasing look in his eyes. I could tell if he was truly annoyed or just messing with me.

“Did you do everything I requested, like a good slave?”

I blushed at him being so forward in public. Hoping that nobody was in earshot to hear his loud, boisterous voice. 

“Yes,” I answered meekly. 

“Yes Sir…”

Again, another loud remark filled me with embarrassing dread. 

“Uhhh… yes… Sir.”

“Well… show me.”

“Right here? But what if someone comes in?”

“You’re in a foreign country where you don’t know anyone, does it really matter? I should be the one who’s embarrassed.” 

He had a point. My face felt hot with shame as I pulled down my adi trackies to reveal the rubber underwear beneath.

“Very good. Don’t stop there.”

He took a few steps towards me until I had to strain a bit to keep gazing into his eyes. In one swift motion, I pushed down the underwear and revealed a very protected, locked cock underneath the silicone-based cage.

“Looks like you’re ready to burst. Do you want to cum?”

I gulped audibly.

“Yes Sir, so badly.”

My brain was too frazzled to think rationally. I simply let his hands explore the flesh of my cock. His eyes drank in the sight, making me feel so extremely exposed. With his free hand, he took hold of my large suitcase and stood to the side. 

“After you.”

I pulled up my pants and chuckled an awkward response before mouthing a ‘thank you’.

All I could do was gaze at my sneakers in front of me as I bounded up the stairs, knowing full well his eyeline was tracking me like a predator stalking prey. We made it to his car without any incident. I felt beads of nervous sweat make their way over my face as I couldn’t tell what would happen next. I went to enter the passenger seat, but was firmly grabbed by the larger and dominant male.

“I’ve got to make sure you’re kept safely stored for our trip to my house.”

I could only dread to think what he meant, my nerves bubbling over as my mind went into overdrive. He popped the boot of his car, and as if anticipating my arrival, had set out some items which would soon have me struggling in a bondage heap.

There was an assortment of different ropes, a head harness, a blindfold, a rubber gag, and even some thick headphones. 

“Strip” 

It was a simple command, but I wasn’t sure if I should follow it. We were out in the open, parked on a corner where most of the parking garage could see us. There wasn’t anyone in sight, but I was worried about the risk.

“Do you need me to say it again?”

He remarked, half laughing, but with a serious glint in his eyes. 

“Is it a good idea? I mean, what if someone thinks this is a kidnapping?”

“Don’t make me force you like I’m kidnapping you. This is me being nice.”

My puffer jacket was removed along with my Nike tee. Then came my pants. I crouched between the cars, trying to stay out of sight while I pulled off my socks and shoes. I realised halfway through that I should have looked out for cameras. Although something tells me the experienced Dom may have done this already. The more horny I became, the more I eased into the role and allowed myself to enjoy what was currently happening. Here I now stood in just a pair of rubber underwear and a cage. The cold air made my nipples perk up as his eyes followed their way down my frame. 

I was guided to sit in the open boot of the car, while his strong hands landed on my naked body. Like a rag doll, I was powerless to stop him as black and red rope was quickly restraining the limbs of my body. I was thrust into an expertly arranged hogtie as the gag, head harness, and the blindfold were all fitted into their positions. My jaw was left wide open by the gag, spit already collecting inside the muzzle section of the head harness. Before the headphones were fitted, he came close to my ear, whispering a faint remark. 

“I hope you’re ready to get totally fucked.”

I moaned a reply, but was cut off by the sound of the boot closing dramatically. Then I felt the rumble of the engine and knew that we were on our way. My locked cock beneath me leaked into my rubber underwear as I could already feel my aching limbs crying out for relief from the hogtie. It would be a VERY long journey. 

TO BE CONTINUED