Date: Thu, 13 Mar 2003 15:48:42 -0000
From: Rubber Dog <dog@skinhead101.co.uk>
Subject: The Box - Part IV

His Master brought the strait-jacket back from the far end of the playroom
where it had been stored with some of the other larger pieces of restraint
he often used; his boy laid out on the table was still trying to keep still
but had taken to gently and ever so slightly pushing his butt down into the
padding and thereby gaining some little leverage with the plug. He let him
do this for a moment or two until the slave started to moan and then firmly
slapped the slave's dick through the restraints. This illicited what would
have been a yelp and a well caught instinctive attempt to move his hands to
his dick's protection. He would have been disappointed if the boy hadn't
caught this reflex and he smiled to himself that already the boy was
learning.

Getting the jacket on was not as difficult as it sometimes was when he'd
gotten slaves to this point of the storage process; occasionally they had
already decided they wanted out and wrestling the strait-jacket onto them
took time and considerable effort. In fact the last time that had happened
had made him rethink just how much of the impending captivity he let the
slaves see before beginning the encasement. Certainly the desperate
struggling and fight for freedom had its plus points and he still wasn't
sure if should hood a victim early on since this deprived them of a view of
the box up-close, and deprived him of seeing their reaction to it.

He had swung the boy around on the table so that his bound legs hung over
the side and he was otherwise sitting up - with this particularly sensative
boy the pressure this put on the rubber inside his ass probably kept him
from resisting too much. Easing the thick, cold rubber of the jacket up the
boy's arms he noticed him pull back slightly, almost a hesitant jesture, as
he came to realise what was being put on him. He held the jacket in both
hands by either side of the collar and pulled it up firmly onto the boy's
shoulders, it felt icy cold even to him and he could see the boy shivering.
Ignoring this he deftly turned the slave over again back up onto the table
but now face down, restrained legs out stretched behind him. Sometimes they
panicked at this point with their faces pushed down into the leather padding
of the table, feeling their breath, hot and damp off its surface whilst the
last hope of their freedom was strapped away. But this one didn't - perhaps
it was better to hood them early.

The jacket was extensive and secure - the back strapped up and padlocked
over each buckle, as with the leg-sack he fastened each first then returned
to yank the final bit of slack from each before securing them. The 2" high
collar of it, now flush with the rest of the boy's rubbered body fastened
shut with two smaller straps - smaller but no less secure. The crotch straps
of a regular jacket were, on this jacket, used instead to secure it to the
leg-sack; the anchor points on the legs were reinforced to take the strain
and set at angles to ensure the best possible alignment with the jacket.
This made it possible to  pull the jacket tighter down onto the slave whilst
pulling the restraints on the legs up and more secure at the same time -
they had been made to work together and held the victim well.

The arms he pulled thru loops in the sides of the jacket and behind the
boy's back. Here they were attached and padlocked. A final strap was
fastened at the front over the boy's wrists - padlocking this with a
satisfying click he left off the pinion straps above the elbows as it would
only get in the way later on.

The boy was now his; encased in rubber, restrained without any hope of
escape, each part of him controlled, every opening plugged and each limb
rendered useless. But not yet entirely dehumanized.

He felt his slave trembling, despite the thickness of the rubber, as he
carried him to the box - some mixture of fear and anticipation, it no longer
mattered which. Sitting the boy into the box he pushed his back flat against
the rear side, and nudged his butt into the edge. The first retaining belt
came across the boy's waist immediately below his folded and restrained
arms. The strap, broad, thick leather buckled tightly squeezing the boy back
into the heavy padding of the box. The boy squirmed a little. The next strap
across the chest was difficult to get on as he get to bring the ends between
the captive's arms and pecs, but once threaded through, this also was pulled
firm and buckled. Not happy with the tension, he unbuckled it and, placing
his boot on the boy's chest, yanked hard and closed it up again. This had
the effect of winding the captive but still it was necessary to ensure he
became as well fastened into his prison as possible.

Two smaller straps at the same height retained the boy's upper arms to the
back of the box, effectively cutting off any previously possible upper body
motion. This was the point where he usually hooded them, that way they'd see
how cramped the box actually was on the inside with all the padding and
besides, the wide-eyed look of panic on their faces as the rubber hood came
down over them could be quite special. But with this boy, he didn't sound to
have that much experience, and he'd wanted to make sure that if he did freak
out, it wasn't until he was safely locked away and couldn't harm himself in
the struggle.

This now was the hardest part, for him, as well as the captive. Taking hold
of his bound up ankles in both hands and crouching in front of the boy he
slowly pushed allowing the knees to bend upwards and steadily forcing the
boy's feet back towards his butt. It was hard because of the tightness and
thickness of the restraints already around the slave's legs, but by pushing
back slowly it was possible to get the feet to almost touch the ass. The
added benefit of his strain in the rubber was that the straps holding the
jacket to the leg-sack at the back crossed over the plug so that when the
boy bent at the knees these tightened and raped the boy's hole relentlessly
pushing the plug right into him.

This was obviously driving the boy mad, as the sounds escaping from the gag
were low and gutteral, sick with the need to cum. Just how he should be.

He fastened a leather cuff around the boy's ankles and secured it by two
chains to the far back corners - this held the tension perfectly and
preventing the slave shuffling his legs at all in any effort to get
comfortable. Two additional chains clipped to the leg-sack straps at the
knees and the side walls of the box, thereby preventing even any side to
side movement of any part of his legs. Some captives had been able to swing
their knees from side to side and thereby rub their dicks along the inside
of the rubber - this in turn had allowed them to cum. Certainly he wanted
them to cum, but on his terms, not theirs.

The last and final attachments were around the captive's head - a broad
strap over the forehead, secured and locked, and a chin strap going
diagonally up the sides of his head and attaching to the back of the box.
With the snap of this padlock the boy was rendered motionless.

Looking at the boy held there, sucken into the padding, he saw him flex and
heave at his bonds, but there was no real give anywhere and yet, from the
stabbing grunts coming from the boy, each flex and each pull against the
restraints was taking considerable effort.

The box itself now stood open on two sides, the front, where the captive had
been loaded in and the top side. Each was hinged open and stood ready for
closing up. He brought the front side up first, padded as the rest were, and
closed it snug against the edges of the rest of the box. Clasps on the
outside fastened over the edges, and once done up he turned his attention to
the top. The top was a little different, still padded and designed to fit
flush with the others, but in the center a number of different gauge tubes
and pipes came through from the outside. Depending on the predicament of the
victim he used these for various attachments to the restraints, but with
this boy he used only one - a medium sized corrugated clear plastic pipe
which he connected up to the breathing tube on the boy's gag.

He held the free end of the pipe, outside the box, to his cheek for a few
moments, checking to feel his boy's breath was coming through properly. It
was sweet and warm and in short, eager gasps.

Happy with this he brought the lid down and let it drop the last few inches.

Inside all the boy heard was a low thud, and then a distant sound of metal
on metal, the padlocks being slipped into their anchor points, locked and
let fall against the exterior of the box. The exterior. Outside, not inside
here where he was. He had felt his encasement progress, but had no real idea
anymore of what he looked like, he felt disoriented - was he still in the
same room with the box, or elsewhere in some other device? Was he now to be
left alone? Could he cum? He was desperate to cum, his dick was aching and
straining for just one slight touch and he was sure he'd shoot.

He tried to struggle and pull against what held him, he fought and tried to
beat it; he felt himself try and yell out as he put all his effort into not
escaping, that seemed a remote fucking possibility, but just to get some
movement over the end of his dick. Nothing he did brought any relief. The
heat now was tremendous, the more he tugged at the rubber that held him
firm, the more twisted and tight he wrung onto him.

With one desperate spasm of effort he tried to tense every sinue of muscle
he had, and actually managed to force out a heavy scream from the excertion.
But it was no use, he was no freer now that he had been before, just dizzy
with the effort and swimming in his own sweat.

Defeated he sobbed at his own horniness, his hormones that had led him and
his dick, no, he thought, these hormones that his dick had used to lead him
here had now fucked him up completely. He was more worked up than he'd ever
been, his dick hurt from the need to cum, his balls were numb and at that
ecstatic point just before they churn and shoot and yet he had not one
fucking single fucking way to fucking get off!

He much as his restraints enabled him to, he wept. He couldn't help it, he
was that frustrated.

In the moments between the sobs he felt the plug get heavier and seem to
pull downwards out of his butt. His insides, he reckoned, had had enough of
it and were forcing it out.

But then he was pulled straight out of his sobbing as he distinctly felt the
plug lurch back up into it, almost making him jump - if that were possible
still. And then nothing. Another sob escaped him, the tears adding to the
sweat bathing his motionless head. Then it happened again. Slowly the plug
felt heavier and started to pull out of him, ever so gradually, then snap
back.

This happened over and over, he couldn't keep track of how many times, he
started to become lost in the feeling it gave him, rubbing gently, slightly,
but definitely over his prostate.

Then it all stopped. He had been on the wave of anticipation of it pulling
down again but it didn't. He wanted it to start again, he wanted it to keep
doing it, keep moving. In sympathy he tried to suck in his stomach and
release it over and over to try and mimic the movement, but it wasn't the
same.

It started again, but more definite. This time instead of snapping back in,
it rose as gradually as it fell, as though it were really fucking him. He
knew his mind must be playing tricks on him, but it really felt like he was
being slowly fucked by the massive thing.

When it started to get faster and deeper, he knew it wasn't just his
testosterone picked brain that was making it up - the plug was actually
moving. Fuck that, it wasn't moving it was fucking him, fast. Ramming into
him hard, then pulling back slowly this time, stretching against the rubber
straps of his strait-jacket and forcibly fucking him.

What he hadn't known was that the plug shoved into him earlier had a steel
core, not big enough to feel, but solid enough to snag a good enough magnet
if brought close enough. Aside from the strict bondage of keeping the boy's
back and body entirely motionless, the point of getting his butt into the
corner was to position the plug over a large electromagnet beneath the base
of the box. By varing the strength and frequency of this he was able to
control the movement of the plug inside the captive's butt. The rubber
bondage itself prevented the captive from pushing the plug out, but the pull
on the steel core was enough to pull against it, only to be forced back
inside as soon as the power was cut.

In this way he could make it fuck whoever had been stored inside the box any
way he chose; from a gentle, barely noticable pulse in and out, to a full-on
rough fucking that would grab every ounce of the captive's attention in
their need to get more of it.

He set it on moderate fuck and, after rechecking the breathing tube and
feeling the stored boy's breath fast and desparate, he sat down to listen to
the suffering. The sounds, the gasps, the strangled howls - he loved them
all.

The fucking didn't stop now, it was hard but the shape of the plug hit his
prostate head-on every time in shot back in and jolted his dick almost to
the point of orgam again and again. It was relentless, it never changed its
tempo, it never tired of course, the fucking thing, it just kept on going,
hard and fast and totally without feeling for his dick.

He didn't want to hold out, he wanted to cum, and when after fuck knows how
long of being pounded it tipped him over the edge he felt his dick just
explode, his balls pulled right up, tight and churning, load after load, he
couldn't breath, he couldn't breath. He pulled and pulled on the gag to try
and draw air in, but nothing. Fuck, fuck fuck.

He had heard the slave begin to climax and at just the right moment had
stoppered the breathing tube. If the boy's orgasm wasn't going to be
powerful enough, this would ensure it would be totally unforgetable.

As his dick kept shooting, but he still couldn't breath. He fought hard,
harder than he had before, his life depended on it. But the fucking kept
going and he was still on the crest of his orgasm.

Feeling he'd denied him long enough, and stopping short of making the slave
faint, he opened up the pipe and felt the rush of air being dragged into it.
He smiled to himself, and left the boy in the box, stored and packed away to
enjoy the agony of the severity of his bondage post-orgasm. By this time
tomorrow he'd be ready enough to do it over again and he wouldn't have moved
an inch!