Chapter 01: Isolation And Detention

I wrote this story mainly inspired by a long-standing favourite of mine, a video called ‘SWAT or WHAT’ by Rubngum. Words cannot express how much I respect and admire the fetish perfection that comes from their videos. Anyway on with the story…

Here I was in the house of a total stranger. Stripped of my clothes, my belongings hidden away. I had nothing to claim as my own, apart from my flesh and blood. I lay in a basement void of any windows or visible escape routes, chained to the floor, I waited anxiously for the man who brought me here to appear. I almost find it comedic how I’ve found myself in this current predicament. Directed by provocations and not by sensible thought. I let my power of judgment be taken over by my darkest urges, and I deserved the position I found myself in. 

Before I explain the current predicament I find myself in, I should recall my journey to this point. It was a Saturday night in June when I witnessed something that would change my life forever. Tucked between casual messages in a late-night chat, a kinky friend sent me a straightforward link and the accompanying text, 

“This seems like something right up your street…”

Tapping the hyperlink on my screen, my inquisitive mind patiently waited as a loading bar spun in a perpetual loop. A video appeared on the screen where the title was enough to supply me with a lust-filled apprehension.

“Isolation And Detention Centre”

The video started with a flicker of light, as a static camera from a high angle revealed the interior of a cramped room. My kinky-fuelled brain instantly recognised the surface and shape of the walls as those of a padded cell. The bright-white surface wrapped on all sides with the markings of square tiles made from padded leather—slick and clinical.. As far as I could tell from gazing, mouth agape, the space was void of anything but dazzling, white leather.

My concentration focused on an inky-black form within the centre of the pristine-white room, as something in me shifted. A black, shiny sarcophagus lay motionless in the cell, a sweeping contrast to the bright leathered interior. My brain slowly processed each frame of the video, my heart thumping like a clangorous drum in my chest. I knew with a horny-addled certainty that inside the rubberised blob lay a tortured, but incredibly fortuitous, live prisoner. 

“A shiny rubber man has been caught and put in detention…”

Text flashed up in the bottom-left corner of the screen, every word sending a shudder of horny desire through my lust-filled brain, as I studied their subdued form. The surface of the alluring lump shone in the cold, harsh light of the cell. It was hauntingly seamless. A solid block of sturdy, unmoving rubber. Only vague features of the nose, neck, shoulders and feet were visible. I envisioned a well-restrained and horny guy packed inside the rubber sarcophagus with no amount of struggling to lead to any movement. I salivated over the idea of something so… PERFECT.

Suddenly, there was a clangorous disturbance within the otherwise muted room, as somewhere off-screen a shadowy figure entered the cell. The shape clambered inside, as it came into view at the bottom left of the video feed. His shiny, dome-like head was all that I could see, but I could tell immediately that he was masked in thick rubber. Dense, weighty straps wrapped around the back of his rubberised head like tentacles of an octopus. The slightly laboured and inhibited sound of his breathing echoed from the video as a gas mask was fixed tightly to his face. He stood surveying the dormant hunk of rubber within the cell, like a hunter scouting its prey.

The camera angle abruptly altered, and the male came into full view. Clad in imposing black riot gear, the figure stood over the prone form of his victim, his appearance full of calculated menace. From head to toe, his body was encased in heavy, tactical armour. The sleek, segmented plates moulded perfectly to his body, adding to his already large, muscular build. His torso was wrapped in a modular tactical vest, its shiny plastic resembling that of the rest of his outfit. The vest bore no specific insignia or lettering just a dark plate of nothingness. The entire outfit was like some kind of futuristic knight.

As if the SWAT gear wasn’t imposing enough, a matte black Kevlar helmet, fitted with an M50 gas mask, obscured the male’s entire face from view. Behind the dark lenses, clearly mirrored to prevent eye contact, his gaze remained hidden and detached — a black-clad phantom against the clinical brightness of the cell.

“It’s time for some IMPORTANT exercises…”

The subtitle appeared, once again, as I drank in the sight of such a fetishistic masterpiece. My cock tented within my shorts, as I gazed transfixed on such an erotic scene. The visuals displayed on my screen would forever be burned into my consciousness—there was no doubt about that.

The assailant’s heavy-duty combat boots thudded dully against the cushioned flooring. Each step caused an eruption of squeaks from the imposing armour. I could tell that there was a calculated perception for every stomp on the padded floor, as it would be a difficult surface to traverse even without the bulky boots and padded armour. Loud screeching marked his presence to the now thrashing prisoner, it seemed he was desperate for release, or otherwise taking extreme pleasure in his heavy bondage—it was hard to tell which.

After lurking menacingly for a few seconds, the operative moved with practised precision, bending down to caress the latex-coated head of the suffering gimp’s sarcophagus. His gloves looked as robust as the rest of his armour, with thick padding sealed around both hands. The imposing figure caressed his way down the prostrate figure. He took his time to massage various places of the glossy form before springing into action with a torrent of more erotic squeaking.

“Time to release our prisoner ;)”

The SWAT-clad male gently rocked the rigid sarcophagus to the side, revealing the back portion of the fetish item. A concealed zipper began at the base of the neck and ran down to the detainee’s lower back. With relative ease, despite the clunky gloves, the assailant effortlessly drew it along its rails, revealing to the world a desperate and exhausted rubber gimp. I let out a gasp of realisation as the defeated male clad in full rubber frantically heaved his body from the prison sack. His movements were extremely weak as he yearned for escape.

The sarcophagus was clearly made from an industrial, heavy rubber, as even without a victim inside, it appeared to retain the shape of a human. The sack was dragged to the side of the cell by the SWAT-dressed male. The now-freed prisoner lay in a recovery position on the padded floor, a pool of sweat gathered under him, as beads dripped down his glassy form. He had a pretty petite and skinny build, which made him appear even smaller next to the armoured giant that also occupied the cell. His entire being was cast in compressed, skintight rubber with no visage of human skin on show. Even his eyes were hidden behind the latex mask. His mouth was clearly packed with a thick gag, as was evident by his bulging cheeks.

“On your knees”, the larger male ordered, his voice calm but firm, filtered through the mask sealed to his face. 

It was difficult to tell the origin, but there was a trace of a European accent. The prisoner resisted, flailing and muffling something incoherent through the thick gag, but it made no difference. The operative quickly pinned the prisoner’s limbs with a knee to the lower back and one forearm pressed across the shoulders, demonstrating controlled force. The armour shifted with him, the continued creaking of the ballistic plates flexing. Something was mumbled incoherently, and the detainee seemed to relax slightly. I stared transfixed at the mirrored lenses of the SWAT guard. There was no expression, no judgment—only focus. I didn’t dare to touch my rock-hard cock, as I knew the moment my hands would make contact, I would explode in my shorts. I wanted to savour this instant and float on the erotic high I was encountering. 

I watched through lust-filled eyes as firm hands guided the exhausted victim to its knees. His head hung low, displaying a sign of defeated obedience. The armoured male squeaked closer and pushed his padded crotch into the rubberised skull of the exhausted gimp. He knelt to unsecure the large ball gag that sprang out of the slave’s mouth with a gentle ‘plop’.

“Please…” he cried, his tongue lolling from his mouth with desperate panting. 

The SWAT-armoured male didn’t respond. Instead, he adjusted his crotch plate to release some unseen velcro, and a black, rubberised cock dropped in the face of the suffering victim. The material across his rigid cock stretched taut with every motion as it oscillated, reflecting its glossy shine to the world. The dominant male’s balls were pulled away from his shaft by a thick cock ring, all formed out of smooth, stout rubber. My mouth could almost feel it breaching my pouting lips and tasting the powerfully industrial material. Gloved hands aggressively clasped the latex-coated head, and the larger male’s cock was forced inside the panting mouth hole of the gimp. 

I pleaded to any divine being to allow me to trade places with the submissive male in the video. I could already fantasise about being in that exact position—collapsed on my knees, gasping for breath, chains taut, spit trickling down my latex-covered chin as my lips and throat were rubbed raw with a perfect latex-coated cock. I would relish any chance of such a dream-like scenario becoming reality. 

The camera angle altered, once again, with a first-person view of the bobbing head sucking with determined efficiency on the armoured male’s cock. His gloved hand pressed firmly on the back of the skull that was receiving his hard dick, using the grip to pull the mouth further down his delicious cock. His moans of pleasure through the gas mask were like a sweet, erotic sonnet. Eventually, the depleted gimp pulled away, and his upper body crumpled forward. He groaned a weakened plea.

The burly guard’s cock hypnotically swung in its tightly wrapped package, ready to burst free from its sealed containment. Spit glistened on its outer shell as it almost called out to all viewers of the video to ‘SUCK’. 

“Back up,” came the SWAT guard’s command. His voice was still muffled from behind the gas mask.

The prisoner didn’t move.

“I said—back up.”

A moment of eerily drawn-out silence apart from the heavy panting from the overpowered gimp. The squeal of rubber on leather thundered through my screen as I felt my cock throb in agonising release. I was so close to cumming and knew that I was about to explode at any minute. The gimp repositioned himself, tongue jutting out, and the cock was again reinserted with a caring ease. The larger male stepped even closer, the dull thud of his boots against the padded floor, as his tempo increased along with his moans. 

I could tell that he was close to cumming—similar to myself. I took hold of my bursting cock in my hands and gently edged. The erotic wave built and built until an inevitable crash soon arrived. The gloved hand once again firmly gripped the back of the glossy dome-like head, as the prisoner was forced to take the magnificent cock into his poor, abused throat. As the lips drew forward and back on the saliva-coated rubber, there was a faint squeaking mixed with heavy breathing from both parties. 

Using the mouth of his victim like a personalised fleshlight, the armour-clad male fucked with a raw, power-driven frenzy into the anonymous mouth hole. I couldn’t take it anymore. My entire brain was melting like a piece of marinating fetish meat. In unison, we both cried out, our powerful orgasms exploding into the world. Mine shot with such virile energy that a few ropes landed on my keyboard. There was heavy panting as the sub was allowed to pull away from the dick, almost collapsing in a heap within the leather-padded cell. 

From the bottom left of the video, the text returned:

“End exercise. Subject elevated. Proceed to recontainment.”

The video faded to black, and with a disappointed sigh, I reached for some tissues to clean up my enormous mess. Suddenly, the feed returned, and my eyes instantly snapped back to the screen.

At the centre of the cell, the prisoner stood wrapped in a rubber straitjacket over its already head-to-toe covered body. Its arms were unforgivingly pinned to its waist as sweat pooled around its rubber-coated feet. I wondered what the suffering heat was like in all that bondage gear inside the cramped cell. He trembled clearly from a sense of dread at what was to come. The SWAT member stood nearby, still in full armour, unchanged. His latex-covered cock was still erect and swinging with each step like a pendulum. His reflective gas mask lenses remained fixed on the prisoner, unreadable. 

The familiar squeak of the gear sounded as the SWAT officer approached. With brutal strength, the operative guided the prisoner to lie prostrate on his back, propped up by one of the padded walls. Heavy shackles were fixed over the bound victim’s ankles. They bore a heavy symbol of total control, and their weight was surely felt by the defeated gimp. Retrieving a heavy-looking rubber helmet, the dominant male spoke something incoherent to his bound prey, possibly in a foreign language. The prisoner managed a muffled cry just before it enclosed his already rubberised head, encasing him in darkness. I imagined there would be a feeling of severe pressure within the claustrophobic helmet. Small ventilation ports on the sides of the helmet would allow him to still breathe, while the dark lenses of the mask meant a limited field of vision. 

The armour-clad male rose slowly, after a gentle caress of his prized position. The strain of the bondage was surely felt with every attempt to shift by the bound male. It was sensory stasis—a punishment of stillness through exaggerated discomfort. A few muffled, incoherent sounds leaked from inside the thick hood. The prisoner writhed, testing his confinement, but there was no slack to his upper body, only his thrashing legs and the chains that kept them close together at the ankles. 

As the armoured male stepped back toward the cell door, accompanied by the beautiful melody let out by his squeaking attire. The prisoner lay bound and exhausted, slumped against one of the walls of the cell. The door sealed shut behind the SWAT member, leaving behind only the echo of his authority. 

As it faded to black yet again, the text appeared, a direct taunt.

“Won’t you like to join some day?”

I must have watched the video in total maybe ten times that night, allowing it to really imprint into my imagination like ink bleeding through paper. I lost count of the number of times I orgasmed as I stared transfixed on the ultimate fetish experience. My kinky brain could barely take it, and I felt like I was going mad with lust, or perhaps just going mad altogether. It was as if my brain was being rewired as it tapped into so many lust-filled avenues that I never knew existed. That video had left fingerprints all over my mind and I could do nothing to shake them.

To Be Continued