Date: Sun, 15 Dec 2002 22:20:31 -0000
From: Rubber Dog <dog@skinhead101.co.uk>
Subject: The Box Parts I & II

The Box

Part I - Knock, knock

Mark stood in front of the door. Number 34 it said, looked like the right
place, it was certainly the right road, it just didn't look like anything
special. Just someone's house on an ordinary road. The only thing he'd
noticed about it was the motorbike parked ouside which he'd seen as soon as
he'd turned the corner at the top of the road and started checking the
house numbers.

He didn't know much about bikes, he didn't even have a license, but he
found them exciting; some bikes just looked hot, and a cute guy in leathers
and a pair of motorcross boots sitting on a machine like this always got
him hard. So he knew this must be the right house, this had to be the guy.

Still standing by the door, he looked at his watch, 2.56pm. He'd said three
o'clock. Mark licked his lips, his mouth felt dry - he was nervous. Should
he knock now, or walk round the block and be spot on time? This guy had
sounded a bit hard on the phone, maybe he'd think early was 'disobedient'
or something. He didn't really go in for the master-slave setup usually, he
was more the bondage-buddy kind of guy, but he was so into the session the
guy had described he was willing to do it this once. Cheekily he'd said
"yes Sir!" at the end of the phone call with a grin to himself; "I mean, it
just sounds stupid to call another guy 'Sir'", he thought to myself.

He didn't want to screw up his chances with this guy so he stepped back
from the door and continued down the road. By this point he now wasn't so
sure he shouldn't just have knocked and gotten on with it, despite his
nervousness his dick was semi-hard as he thought over what they'd talked
about on the phone. Some of what he'd said couldn't be for real, I mean it
was just way too intense - you couldn't tie someone like that. It was more
like he was describing one of those Joe-T drawings you see; horny but just
not possible. Hell, maybe this guy was just jerking off and wasn't going to
be in, or didn't even live there. No, he had to live there, the bike was
parked outside and the he'd said he was a biker. But if what he'd described
was for real, he was in for it big time.

His cock responded to this and started rubbing on his jeans even more which
made things worse still. Jeans, his old army boots, a plain t-shirt and his
favorite jacket - nothing else, no socks, no jock. "Fuck, it's 3pm!" all
that second guesses about whether to knock when he was early and he was now
going to be one minute late.

He arrived at the house, having run the last thirty yards, stood there,
checked the number again and knocked. Looked at his watch again. Just
3.01pm. Knocked again. Looked around behind him across the road, glanced at
his watch again. Back to the door, he saw a buzzer. Pressed that instead.
Behind the mottled glass of the outer door he saw some movement, then it
opened.

Dry mouthed again, he weakly forced out an "Hello". This guy was a good six
or seven inches taller than Mark, and broader shoulders but about the same
age, maybe a year or two older. But it wasn't this physical stature, which
was clearly superior to Mark's, that he took most notice of - it was that
he was wearing the most stunning set of bike leathers he'd ever seen. Only
thing was, they weren't leather at all, they were rubber, but styled like
bike leathers, tailored everywhere out of thick, shining rubber. He was
only a couple of feet away and he could smell it, the heat from the man's
body and the heady smell of the rubber. Mark's cock leapt and he looked
down at it showing through his jeans.

The guy hadn't said anything yet, he was just looked at the boy on his
doorstep. Mark looked up again, almost thinging that this must be the wrong
place, the expression on the man's face was set and he just looked down at
him. "hello.....sir?" Mark said, forcing the words out.

"Better, boy. Inside!"

Mark went in and just stood in the hallway not sure what to do, or what to
say, so he just looked ahead further into the house. The man closed the
door behind him, he jumped and turned around to see the man grinning at
him.

"So, you made it then, boy. But you're late"

"I didn't mean to be....Sir", he said still finding it difficult.

Then he just came at him, grabbed him by the elbows and turned him around
roughly and pushed him against the wall, grabbing his wrists he forced them
up behind his back painfully towards his neck. Mark resisted as best he
could, he hadn't been expecting this but the man was stronger than he
was. Holding him there, his shoulders throbbing from the strain he felt the
man come close to his face.

"You will learn to do as you are told boy, is that clear?"

He wasn't sure what to say, he'd only been a minute late, what was the big
deal?

"I said, is that clear, cunt?", he said whilst yanking the boy's wrists
further up his back.

"Yes Sir", he said as quickly as he could and clenching his eyes against
the pain.

He let go, pushing him to the floor and pinning him there under one knee,
he unclipped a pair of rigid handcuffs from the back of his belt and
snapped them on the boy in a single fluid movement. He let them ratchet on
tightly so they dug into his skin, eliciting another yelp. Hauling him over
onto his back, and crushing his cuffed hands behind him he looked the boy
in the face. He looked startled and a little apprehensive, but that was
good. He reached up and ruffled the boy's hair.

"That has to go!"

He grinned down at him, the boy was more clean cut than he usually got,
still had preppy looking neat cropped hair and his jeans looked
designer. Younger too, no more than 24 and nicely proportioned. He felt his
arms and his thighs, all with the boy watching him puppy-eyed, but
silent. He worked out a little it seemed, which fitted in with the cocky
attitude he'd had on the phone, full of himself, probably a pushy bottom -
well, usually anyway!

"Get up, boy", he barked at him as he himself stood up. Mark struggled back
onto his front then onto his knees and finally, unsteadily onto his
feet. He was looking down still when he noticed his dick was still
hard. Suddenly embarrassed he looked up at the man to see if he'd
noticed. He had.

"That's good boy", he said as he laughed at the boy's innocence, "Ready
then boy?"

Mark just nodded and said "Yes Sir".

He took the boy by the collar of his jacket and pulled him along behind him
through the house and out to the back door. He openned it and started to
walk outside, still dragging the boy. At the step the boy hesitated, unsure
about being led around outside, but he was just pulled along with a sharp
tug, so he followed.

He led him into a brick out-house at the end of the yard, pushed him into
one corner, then turned to lock the door and switch on the lights.

What Mark saw when the room lit up made his jaw drop. Everything the man
had told him on the phone had been real. At the far end of the room, on a
raised platform was a large black wooden box, no more than 3 feet along
each side. It looked like a giant jack-in-the-box with the top hinged open,
thickly padded and lined with rubber.

Several straps, some long, some short, hung from the lid where they were
riveted on and indented into the padding. The outside was very plain except
for the glint from the tops of the bolts that held the sides together,
serious bolts, the wood must have been an inch thick.

He watched the boy take it all in, and stepped over behind him.

"No going back from this point boy."

"No Sir", he said absent mindedly and still looking at the box and around
the room. Chains hung from the ceiling almost everywhere, some had shackles
attached to the ends, another had a massive metal helmet swinging from it,
there was a sling just behind the box, and a stout metal cage on the other
side and closer to the door they'd come in through. Shelves about two foot
above the cage had stacks of rubber sheeting or clothing, he couldn't tell
which, and on the wall next to those every conceivable restraint had its
own hook where it was stored.

Stored!

Stored was the word the man had used to him on the phone a lot, and he'd
latched onto it. Mark had looked around through the contact mags and
website for ages, literally months maybe even a year or more, for someone
into just real, aggressive bondage, and long-term. Most he'd ever gotten
anyone to do to him was overnight, and even then he'd had to plague them
for it. He had almost met another guy a few months back, but he'd been more
interested in causing pain. What Mark wanted was good honest bondage, but
hard, unyielding, escape proof bondage for as long as he could get it. So
when this guy said the word stored, his cock wouldn't let him say no.

At this point the boy turned his head to look at the man who'd roughly
cuffed him just a few moments ago, grinned broadly and said "Storage time
Sir?"

He liked this kid's cockiness, and was pleased to see he'd been right in
thinking he was usually a pushy bottom.

"No boy, lights out time!"

"Sir?", looking suddenly confused only to feel a strong hand grip the back
of his head and another come up to his face and cover it with a rag.

Again in one swift movement, he kicked the boy's feet from under him and
held the rag there until he went out. The boy struggled a bit but only
enough to realise his hands were still trapped and that the cuffs were
cutting into him, a few unaimed kicks and he was out.



Part II - A first layer

Cold, and with a desparate panic the boy jolted back awake. He heard his
breath, course ragged breaths. Darkness. Cold and damp. A hard floor, his
body aching from laying on it. His skin was cold. He propped himself up
with his arms, his hands feeling a tiled floor, he turned his head side to
side. Looking. Nothing. Panicked. Where was he? He'd been knocked out, but
where was he now?

Why did he feel so cold? He moved one hand to his jeans pocket, but just
hit skin. He was naked. Cold and naked laying on a hard tiled floor, in
complete darkness, his head still spinning and clouded from whatever had
been on the rag.

He sat up, drew his knees to his chin and pulled his feet in, slowly he
crept backwards, inching towards something he could lean against. He found
a wall, and carefully propped himself against it, getting himself used to
the glassy chill of it down his naked back. Gingerly he pulled his feet in
further and wrapped his arms around his knees, more for safety now than
anything else.

Now blinded. A searing pain through his head as the lights came on. He was
just dazzled by it. Shielding his eyes now with one hand and gradually
getting used to it from the pitch darkness, he tried to take in his
surroundings. No longer pre-occupied with the cold, but just taking things
in as best he could.

The room was indeed tiled, white ceramic tiles like a bathroom over the
floor and walls. There was a door at the far end painted white, but with no
handle or window just hinges that showed it opened inwards. The lights, two
fluorescent tubes, were hung from the ceiling which was also tiled.

As his eyes got accustomed to the light he began to notice more about the
room; the floor was sloped down towards him away from the door, and his
butt was in a grate that ran along the length of the wall he'd backed
into. Above him and to his left was a shower nozzle but he didn't see
anything that would allow him to turn it on or off, and to his right a
plain, white stool with a black, rectangular box on the top.

He sat there for a few moments wondering what to do, his head was clearing
fast now and the only thing that it seemed possible for him to do was open
the box.

Standing up he found he was a little unsteady on his feet, and felt a light
headed as he caught his balance. He held his hands up to his face to rub
some life back into himself, wiped his eyes and ran his hands back over his
head.

"Fuck! Fuck!", he said out loud. He felt again all round his head, but it
was true, his hair had gone, all of it. He looked down at his dick and that
was hairless too. Checking himself all over he realised he'd been shaved
everywhere. There wasn't anything left, not on his head, his balls, his
ass, under his arms, even his eyebrows had gone. This was going way too
far. Pushing the box off the stool he sat down and just held his now skin
head in his hands and thought and tried to imagine how he could get out of
this.

For a few moments he sat that cursing himself and beating himself up for
letting his dick get the better of him and landing him in this
situation. But then the box had looked hot when he'd seen in five minutes
ago, or however long it now was. Must have taken ages to shave him down
like this.

"Maybe this is the storage", he sneered to himself, angry that he'd fucked
up.

"I can't get out, I guess I am trapped in here", he got up and paced over
to the door to see if he could get it open.

Banging as hard as he could on it, and trying to shoulder it open for a
while he realised it was useless. Try as he might it didn't budge, it felt
too solid for him to force against its hinge and out. Now rather than just
trapped, he was trapped and sore.

Almost in anger he was about to pick up the stool and throw it against the
door, when he noticed that the box he'd pushed off it had come open on the
floor. Picking it up, its contents fell out around the stool. Casually
discarding the box in the direction of the door, rather than shying the
stool at it as he'd intended, he bent down to pick up each of the things
that had fallen out, his curiosity now held firmly by what he saw.

Several pieces of plain and quite thin rubber clothing, and looking at each
he felt his dick begin to grow hard again. There was a pair of rubber
jeans, with a zip around the crotch, which fascinated him, a long sleeved
t-shirt and gloves. He held each of them up in turn, looking at them,
turning them over in his hands and just feeling them.

He needed no further prompting to know what he had to do, carefully he
pulled each item on. First the top, down over his head, and snapping into
place over his chest. He wriggled it down his back and then set about
straightening the arms so that it fitted over him perfectly smoothly. He
hated it when he saw rubber guys out at the bars, who had just thrown their
kit on sloppily, he always took his time and got rid of all the creases
before polishing it up and going out. Anything to show off his gym toned
body better deserved spending time on.

Next were the jeans, he had thought these would be tough without any talc
or lube, but actually since he now had no hair on his legs it was quite
easy, and the feeling of the rubber that close to his skin was amazing. So
tight, and snug, but cooling one moment, only to be warmed the next as his
skin heated it up. Right then and there he decided he'd always keep himself
shaved, how could he have missed out on how great this felt for so long?

Pulling them up all the way he then couldn't decide what to do with his by
now achingly hard dick, point it straight up, or down a leg? Getting too
tempted to stroke it he just shoved it down the front and pulled the jeans
up to meet the rubber top. He wished there was a mirror he could look at
himself in right now, but just white tiles everywhere.

Lastly the gloves, they were quite long and tight so they made a good seal
with the sleeves of the top when he pulled them on. Now he was all set. But
all set for what. He sat down again and started to feel stupid that he'd
just played around getting the rubber on when he should have been trying to
get out.

But, the door then opened. It swung wide open, and he saw the man standing
in the door frame. He still had on his rubber biker gear, and still looked
just as hot.

"Here boy!"

Instinctively he got up and ran over to him and knelt down in front of
him. He felt the man's hand rest on his smooth head and rub it around.

"Doesn't that feel better now boy?"

"Yes Sir"

"This is how you will keep it from now on, slaves don't merit hair. And you
are a slave aren't you?"

"Aren't you boy?"

"Yes Sir I am Sir"

"Say it boy, tell me what you are boy"

"Sir....", he stammered still unsure, but then he took a deep breath, let
it out slowly then, with his Master's hand still on his head, he continued,
"i am a rubber slave boy Sir, your dog boy Sir"

He laughed a little, not in ridicule, but just at the pleasure of hearing
the boy say it.

"You're a dog are you boy?"

"Yes Sir", now feeling embarrassed that he'd maybe been a bit too
enthusiatic, "i mean if that is what you want Sir, yes Sir i think Sir"

"That's alright boy.", he laughed again at the boy's quickening
enthusiasm. This was going to be fun. He took his hand away and brought it
back with a wide leather collar which he buckled around the boy's neck.

"Follow!"

He pulled the boy from the room, on two legs, but he'd learn eventually,
and back in the main part of the out-house with the box. As he led his
around it, he felt the boy pulling slightly towards it, clearly wanting to
get a better look at it. He'd get a much closer look soon enough, he
thought as he smiled to himself and brought the boy to the far end of the
room by the cage.

The cage had four heavy duty rings welded to the top side that he usually
used to suspend it from the ceiling, but with the cage down on the concrete
floor they served equally well as anchor points for boys being prepared. He
pushed the boy against it, his waist just level with the top, then forced
him to bend forwards across the cold iron bars.

As he moved around to the far side away from the boy, he could see the
goosebumps come up all the back on his neck down to the rubber as the cold
from the bars crept through his new skin. Pulling each arm roughly he
buckled the slave's wrists into restraints already waiting at the ends of
two chains from the rings furthest away from where the boy was bent over
the cage, he'd shorten those later, but for now he just needed to get him
fixed into position.

Down by the slave's bare feet were two similar restraints, he held the
boy's feet firmly as he attached the leather straps tightly, feeling the
boy gently shivering. With this done, he then unclipped the wrist
restraints and dragged the boy's arms as far as they'd go and re-attached
them to the chains thereby stretched the boy taut over the cage.

He had his head looking down into the cage between his out stretched arms,
resting on the bars. He looked at the leather covered mat lining the inside
of the cage and wondered who had last been in there and what had happened
to them. He could make out smudges of lube on the leather from where a
slave had sat with something up his butt. His cock twitched.

Standing behind the boy he took hold of the zip on the jeans and slowly
drew it open, first down along the boy's ass then all the way forwards
letting his dick hang out. As it fell out, long clear ropes of precum
connected it back to rubber, and it hung there pointing straight ahead
through the cage towards the boy's shoulders, his balls were a good size
and hung there responding with slight movements as the boy's dick
occasionally dipped and twitched.

Taking two lengths of rope he would each round the slave's legs just below
the knee, making 4 turns on each. Tying a good strong knot to prevent the
loops slipping he then tied off each piece of rope to the side of the cage,
pulling the boy's knees wide apart and effectively holding them rigidly to
the cage. This left everything hanging freely and spread his butt cheeks
well.

He stood back, a kodak moment perhaps? The turns of the rope, white against
the glossy black of the rubber looked hot, and the small movements the boy
was trying to make to ease the strain on his legs forced out into that
position were quite cute. Not quite ready yet though. He always used the
same rope, magicians rope which was all cotton without any nylon core,
which ensured the knots never slipped. A further length of rope he tied
around the boy's balls, tugging them firmly with a couple of turns of the
cord, and tying it off with a short length just loose. As he handled the
slave's balls, he boy let out some gentle whimpers, clearly very turned on
by being restrained, and bead after bead of precum now flowed out of his
cock down the rope of older precum that had been attacted to the
rubber. Some of it got on his hands, and when he put them under the boy's
nose he started licking it off slowly but completely, savouring every
moment of it. The boy clearly wasn't confused about his role any more!

"Good boy, good boy", he said softly

When he'd licked it all off he thanked his Master dutifully with the
meekest voice he'd ever heard. But the boy had to take pain as well as
pleasure, so what happened next probably came as a rude awakening. He
cupped his tied off balls in one hand, the other still being licked even
though it was already more than clean, and then mid-lick, squeezed
hard. Instantly, the boy tried to double up from the pain as it built up in
the pit of his stomach, but he couldn't and simply slammed his head into
the bars. It's good when a boy's instincts cause him more discomfort.

He was obviously trying to get up off the cage as his feet were working
back and forth as though trying to stand up. But he wasn't going anywhere;
he started to howl and then he started to plead.

"Aahh, let go!"

"Let go of me!"

"Aarghhh, please Sir, please don't Sir!"

He let go, but not before squeezing just a bit harder which made the boy
jolt and yelp wonderfully. He sagged back onto the cage, no longer trying
to get off, his cock still standing out proudly, but the rope of precum had
come off and there was now a pool of it just inside the cage on the mat. He
pulled the rope round the slave's balls back, making them stick out behind
him and pointing his dick straight down. He saw his body tense,
anticipating what was to come next. He tied the rope off to a hook on the
wall, fixing his slave's genitals in that position and then stood alongside
his stretched out body, running his hands up and down the boy's back and
then his head. Just watching his slave. Watching as in a few moments the
boy turned his head to look at his Master, wondering why nothing had
happened. Then a few more minutes passing, the slave getting daring, and
starting to push back and pull forwards as much as he can to try and get
some leverage on his cock.

Out of the sight of his boy, he reached up to the shelves above the cage
and rooted around for something. This much the boy could now hear, but
could not turn to see what it was. His movements, as limited as they were,
became more inquisitive and adventurous as he determined to twist enough by
some means in order to see what his Master was doing.

The he found it and brought it down in front of the boy's face, but just
out of reach. The boy saw it and immediately clamped his mouth shut,
whimpering and trying to pull his head as far away from it as possible. The
gag was the size and shape of a small fist and made out of solid black
rubber. The shape was a little strange, but the boy quickly recognised that
this was meant to fit snuggly within his mouth completely. But the degree
to which it would obviously have filled his mouth, and stretched his jaw
had it been held closed around it wasn't the bit that frightened the boy;
it was the thick tube that ran through the gag, going an inch further
inside its victim, and hanging out about a foot on the outside. Surely if
that went in him he'd spend the whole time concentrating on keeping his gag
reflex in check, or he'd be in serious trouble.

The boy was adamant that this gag was not going in him, but his Master had
expected this and from where he was standing alongside the boy, with the
gag held in front of his face with one hand, he brought the other down
firmly on the boy's tethered balls, illiciting an immediate and pitiful
scream. But it was short lived of course, no sooner was his head thrown
back in pain, and his mouth opened to scream than the gag was deftly shoved
in.

Realising his position the boy fought hard to push the gag back out, but
his tongue was held down firmly in the bottom of his mouth by the sheer
bulk and shape of it. Now he really did start to panic, trying desparately
to writhe out of his bonds and kick himself away from the cage over which
he was securely stretched, but he managed only to pull on arms painfully
and slap his dick against the cold bars of the door of the cage between
which it was still pointing straight down and steadily leaking precum
despite his fear.

He was unable to think properly now. Scared of what was happening to
him. Fighting with the desire to trust himself in his Master's hands, and
the will to curl up and protect himself. Knowing what the boy was going
thought, he soothingly spoke to him, calming him down, reassuring the
boy. Still though the slave was gulping air in hard through the gag's
breathing pipe, almost choking it back out again, spluttering flecks of
spit out with every exhale, but gradually getting used to its feeling in
his mouth and towards the back of his throat. Fighting back the urge to
vomit it out. But he would have to cope, it was in there to stay now.

But he wasn't finished with the boy yet either. Sooner or later he would be
able to get the gag out if just left as it was, so he reached for a hood,
thick rubber, almost rigid which he began to peel down over the slave's
head. At first the boy thrashed around anew from this, but a couple of
similar, sharp slaps to his balls brought him back into line
quickly. Within a few moments, he was able to continue pulling the hood
down over the boy's naked head, with only the sound of his breathing, now
hard again, and the gentle rise and fall of his back as his chest pushed it
up and down.

With a snap the hood found it home and fitted around his head
perfectly. Although made from thick rubber, it was shaped and moulded at
the front so that the boy felt his chip slip into a dip which might almost
have been made to fit it exactly. The only holes in the hood were those
through which his head had been pushed, and which now lined up with the
high collar of the rubber top he already wore, and a round grommeted hole
in the front through which his breathing pipe was threaded.

The hood effectively fastened the boy's jaw closed, tightly compressing it
into the gag inside his mouth, the result being that not only was the boy's
head covered in rubber, but it was virtually completely filled with it as
well wherever possible. He patted the boy's head through the rubber and was
pleased to hear a couple of pleasant sounding puppy moans come from within
made slightly metallic sounded from the passage of the sound through the
wide breathing tube.

If the boy had had a moment to consider what had gone before, he might have
known what to expect next, but as it was he was busy relishing the feeling
of the rapidly warming rubber now encasing his head and isolating him to a
large extent from the sights and sounds of the outside world, the world
within his Master's playroom. Often with rubber hoods, once on he could
still make out shapes and bright lights as the rubber was stretched tightly
over his face, but not with this one, it was just darkness. No shadows of
the bars, or sparkles from the overhead lights reflected off the metal and
rubber around the room which had filled his field of vision only a minute
ago.

In an instant he was brought back to reality as he felt ice cold lube being
rubbed against his exposed, and vulnerable butt, his Master's fingering
expertly pushing in then letting them slip out, rubbing the lube around and
in, and over and then adding more, pushing it in a little further. The
boy's mouth fell dry and he caught himself only just in time before gagging
on the tip of the gag's tube tempting to tickle the back of his throat. How
could he concentrate on everything going on, how could he cope with the
gag, his now aching legs and tightly rubbered body. Only his dick, his
balls and his now well lubed ass were free of rubber, save for his feet now
getting colder by the second as they rested on the harsh concrete foor.

Then nothing. His Master's touch had gone, no feeling. Nothing was touching
him, except the steel of the cage and the ropes that bound him to
it. Unused to the thickness of the hood and the effect it had on his
ability to listen, he brought his head up and cocked it slightly to one
side, intent to listen for any clue of what had happened to his Master.

And then he knew. Pushed firmly at his ass he felt the tip of a
plug. Trying to relax and push back as he could, he wanted to get it in
him. Just begging if he could, to be touched.

He turned the plug slowly, rotating it, pushing against his boy's eager
hole, watching him greedily trying to get onto it. Then pushing hard,
allowed the first of the plug proper to enter the slave. The shape of the
plug made it position to get it inside in stages, three bulbs each larger
than the next making the whole about 8" long and 2" at its widest. As the
first slipped in, the boy clearly enjoying it, froze lifted his head a
little, softly whimpering in pleasure, perhaps thinking that this was the
extent of the plug.

He turned it again, then turned it the other way, enjoying the sounds this
produced from the excited slave boy. But now pushing again further in,
which caused the boy to draw in air quickly through the tube and suddenly
open his hands, pushing his own head down into the bars, a picture of
concentration.

Smearing more lube around the part of the plug still outside, he turned it
faster now, but kept up the pressure inwards. The second bulb had not yet
gone it, but he felt that only a little more pressure separated that moment
from now. Keeping the boy at this point, wanting more, being stretching,
eager and greedy to get it in. He let the moment linger, turning the plug
the other way, keeping the force just short of ramming the second bulb
in. And then he let it go, he pushed it, pushed the second of the three
bulbs in and stiffened himself from the yelp that the boy tried to let out.

But he wasn't through; without letting the pressure up he slammed the third
and final bulb into the boys now well stretched hole without giving him a
chance to get his breath from the shock of the size of the second. As soon
as it was shoved home the boy's muscles clamped quickly around the narrow
neck of the plug, cruelling making his body keep it in by itself. This
created a moment on near total panic in the boy's limited movements, but it
got the worse of that ordeal over for him quickly - a luxury he would have
less of when he would be moved to the box.

Whilst the boy was trying to recover from the pain of the intrusion into
his ass, his Master busied himself untying the boy's balls and packing
everything away again under the rubber jeans. If the found composed himself
quickly enough he would try and force the plug back out to a more
comfortable point; this wasn't going to happen! But by this time the zip
was closed, trapping the plug inside him with no way out, and piping his
painfully swollen dick awkwardly down one leg, adding its own lubricant to
the sweat already building up there.

He looked at his rubbered slave boy, admiring now how much he was already
transformed from the preppy sub that had knocked at the door, to a
whimpering, aching, cum-hungry dog boy ready for the box. Well almost
ready, he had his first skin of rubber on; but this was too thin and
delicate to have any straps or restraints placed directly over it. The main
rubber suit, key to holding the boy in storage had to go on next.