Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Cage Experiments, Part 1

by Professor Challenger

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© Copyright 2005 - Professor Challenger - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; D/s; caged; cons; X

The Cage Experiments, Part 1 by Professor Challenger

Last night was the most recent of a series of test runs in my newest toy—a ne plus ultra of bondage equipment--. After years of desire, I bought a steel standing cage. I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of them. They are often referred to as “portable jail cells,” although “portable” is a relative term—it is a heavy item! This one is six feet tall and about 18” inches wide and deep, with the front door divided into three panels for different levels of access. I bought mine from eXrestraints*—very good people to deal with: if you want it, they have it. Their prices are not the cheapest, but I save a couple of hundred dollars by haunting their auctions on eBay--.

But enough plugs. After UPS delivered the two massive packages it came in, I cleared out a corner of my garage, and bolted it together, a very straightforward process. Initially, I set it up on a carpeted platform I also use for my X-frame, as the cage bottom is just bars like the top—it has no “floor.”  After the initial test, I moved the cage onto an old refrigerator dolly I had, with some carpeting on top, which made it very easy to move the cage when desired.

My goal was to recreate a very erotic photograph I have often looked at on the internet: it is by the late, great Tammad Rimilia, one of the pioneering exponents of self-bondage on the Net, and an exponent of chastity belts as well. The photo is on the Neosteel web site ‘rogues gallery’ page, and shows a man locked in a cage of this type. The man can not be identified because the picture is cropped to show him only from the neck down, although he is evidently wearing a collar with a large lock or tag. He is wearing a chastity belt of the Neosteel type, has heavy shackles on his ankles, and similar manacles on his wrists. Strikingly, his hands are manacled through the bars on the outside of the cage door, so that he is attached to the cage, and could not get away even if the cage doors were opened. This model cage has an attachment point in the middle of the floor as well, and it is hard to tell if the shackle chain is linked to it or not, but it appears not in this picture.

The erotic effect of this picture on me was powerful and lasting. The man in the cage was SO screwed! He was not going ANYWHERE! I knew that somehow, sometime, I HAD to do this, too.

The cage itself was the final piece of a puzzle long in the assemblage. Through eBay (love eBay—pity they’re getting uptight about bondage gear) I custom-ordered a set of very versatile heavy cuffs for wrist, ankles and neck, that can be worked up into any number of configurations with padlocks, sections of chain, or spreader bars. For this, I would be using a simple arrangement—ankle cuffs with about eight inches of chain between, and wrist cuffs with about three inches of chain.

Another vendor provided me with a steel bondage mask. There are several of these out there, too, but of course I had to have a custom design—the one often offered is too fierce and spiky looking for a sub, in my opinion. Mine has a very blank faceplate with no mouth opening at all, and very narrow eye slits. It has three purposes—besides the obvious one of having a wonderfully heavy bondage feel, and restricting vision without being a full blindfold, it also robs the wearer of identity—he is a “man in the iron mask”. Since the man in the cage picture had no face, I determined I would be a faceless, nameless captive also.  Third, I have found that almost any gag I can wear comfortably for any period of time, I can also eventually work out of my mouth. The mask fits closely enough that there is no room to expel a gag, yet does not restrict breathing as a hood might.

Someday, I will get a Neosteel chastity belt, but the one I want with all the options would cost substantially more than the cage did--. In the meantime, I have a substitute which is good enough for dungeon play. I have an old leather male “chastity belt” with a locking waist belt and crotch strap. The quotation marks are because the genitals protrude through a hole in the g-string like front and are not covered or restricted, so it is more just a harness, although more substantial than most of the “plug harnesses” you find on the market today. I have modified it by adding three small holes just above the genital opening to accept the locking and guide pins for a CB-2000 chastity cage. I put it on by first getting into the back ring of the CB-2000. Then, I cinch and lock the leather waist belt. I feed my cock and balls through the front of the leather chastity, and the CB-2000 locking pin though its hole. Then, I can fit on the spacers and the CB-2000 main unit and lock. The final step is cinching up and locking the crotch strap in back, and voila!

The cage itself required no modifications except that I fastened a U-bolt around the center bar of the cage “floor” to make an attachment point, which did not exist on this version.

I had agreed with my Mistress that I would experiment with the cage for meditation this evening. As usual, my Mistress is my ‘release’—both very reliable but delightfully uncertain--. Being sure she had the necessary keys, we agreed that, once I was in the cage, she would come out and check on me to be sure I was OK, and then turn off the garage lights and go back in for such time as she felt appropriate before coming to give me the keys so I could release myself. Since I knew she had a writing project in hand, I knew if she got on a roll it might be some time—on the other hand, since we share a bed, I knew she wouldn’t forget and go to bed without me--.

Prior tests had established that getting into bondage gear after getting into the cage was difficult—I am broad-shouldered and it doesn’t leave much maneuvering room—so I determined to get into as much of the gear as possible beforehand. I took off all my clothes except for some sandals (despite repeated sweepings, the garage floor remains gritty) and lubed and inserted my large butt plug.  Controlling my excitement, worked my way into the first ring of the CB-2000, and cinched the waist belt as tightly as I could stand. I then interleaved the leather chastity and the CB-2000 and locked that on. I then pulled the leather crotch strap well up between my buttocks, and locked that as well. Next, I carefully, locked on the heavy shackles. I inserted a leather gag of the tongue-depressor type and buckled it snugly, and then carefully fit the “iron mask” over my head and padlocked the collar of it around my neck.  I locked one manacle on my left wrist, and taking the remaining padlock in hand, began the shuffle off to my dungeon. I gave my Mistress the “thumbs up” sign on my way out, and she wished me luck.

Our garage is detached, so I made my way to the side door (which I could leave locked behind me) and cautiously stepped out onto our driveway, which is in view of the street. Listening and peering through the restricted vision let me know there was no one about (it was about 8:30pm on a weeknight) and I hastened as best I could to the side entrance of the garage. A useful note: very heavy shackles affect your walking more than just the restriction of the chain would indicate. A heavy cuff pressing on your Achilles tendon hampers walking all by itself, and, your ability to balance yourself is also affected, so caution is called for. 

I got into the garage and to the cage with no other trouble. Despite the fact that daytime temperatures outside had only been in the high 70’s, the garage had been warmed by the sun and was a good bit warmer inside, so I quickly worked up a slick sweat. 

I stepped up into the cage, which was placed in the very corner of the garage, so that only the front with doors and what would be my right side faced out. I stepped up into the cage, and turned to face the doors. I carefully crouched down, slipped off my sandals, and used the waiting padlock to lock the center of my ankle chain to the floor of the cage. Since the keys to all the locks were inside with my Mistress, I would now remain a prisoner here until she came for me without more, but of course I was going for more. I stood up, and one by one pulled the three doors shut and fastened each one with its separate lock, enclosing me securely and inescapably within the steel confines of the cage.

The only failure in this experiment came at this point: I had brought along a pair of tweezer type nipple clips, which I knew would have to be applied at this stage if at all, since they tend to work loose if I am moving. These are about the only type I can tolerate for more than a minute, since my nipples are very small and soft. Unfortunately, given the slipperiness of my sweat, and the total lack of downward vision enforced by the mask, I could not get them to stay on.  (There’s no doubt about it—if my Mistress lets me, I HAVE to get my nipples pierced—there’s so much erotic potential.)  So I gave up after several tries and finished cuffing my wrists. I thrust them out through the bars of the top cage door, and padlocked on the right cuff.  The chain went around a vertical bar, so I could barely pull one or the other hand back inside the cage at a time, and above the horizontal bar of the cage door, so my hands were held at about the same level as my shoulders. This was not as onerous as it might be, since I was able to rest my forearms on the crossbar.

Having done all I could, I pondered my position. All the keys needed to free me were inside the house, which I was locked out of. I was solidly locked inside a small steel cage, far too heavy for me to shift anywhere in my present state, even if there were anywhere to move it to, which there was not. I was masked and gagged, hands cuffed and locked to the bars, ankles shackled and locked to the cage bottom, “chastised” and plugged. A very nice predicament. Of course I could not touch myself anywhere, but I tried some pelvic thrusting against the belt. Nothing happened as far as my genitals were concerned, but tightening my buttocks made the tightly-strapped-in plug move within me. While being able to mildly ass-fuck myself was interesting, I decided to give it a rest for the time being. 

After several minutes, my Mistress came in to check on my progress and safety. She glanced me over approvingly, saying that I was quite artistic. (One of the fantasies that goes along with the cage is being gotten up like this and used as a conversation piece at a party or event. This will never happen, since we are very private about our perversions, but it’s fun to think about.) She reached through the bars and caressed me, including such skin of my penis and scrotum as were touchable through the CB, which made me feel the constriction of the chastity very keenly indeed!

She asked if there was anything she could do for me. I pointed to the nipple clips, the chain of which I had stuck into my waist belt. She also tried to affix them, but, given the slipperiness of my skin and the awkwardness of trying to work between the bars she soon gave up as well. She took the useless clips away with her, and as she left, turned off the lights. Remarking that she found the interior of the garage uncomfortably close, she left the side door open!

This was an additional titillation: although we live in a secure neighborhood, the possibility of some prowler happening by couldn’t be entirely discounted—I wonder what a garage burglar might think or do if he found me? Would he just run away, or cheerfully tip me a wink as he helped himself to my lawn mower? What we do have in our area was wild life, and raccoons and other creatures had gotten into our garage more than once—what would I do if I found some animal snuffling around my feet? Realistically, one expects that the powerful smell of sweaty man would probably warn off most beasts, but at this point, fantasy was my focus.

There I was, no more than a caged beast myself, caged in the darkened garage, the only thing visible the dim play of exterior lights reflected on the far wall. I had no face, no voice, no sex. I couldn’t really move my feet at all, just enough to shift my weight a bit and ease my muscles occasionally. I could have twiddled my thumbs, but that’s all my hands were good for. I centered myself, letting myself sink gradually into “subspace”. I suppose a normal man would have found my situation immediately torturous. After all, besides my enforced position, the heavy shackles pinched my ankles. My ass was distended by the invading plug, and any shift of position reminded me of it. My genitals strained against their unyielding binding. My waist was restricted by the tight belt such that a deep breath was beyond me. The mask weighed on my head, and there was no way for me to ease the tickles of sweat and hair inside it. But in subspace we find the mysterious alchemy that transmutes a cacophony of minor irritations into a harmony of erotic sensation. 

I began to feel a bit light-headed, but re-centered and controlled my breathing. Fainting or collapsing as I was was not an option! Thus, I was in a trancelike state of awareness when I heard stealthy footsteps approaching in the darkness.  I recognized my Mistress’s step and was not alarmed, although when she attacked me with her fingernails through bars, had I not been restrained, the sheer power of the stimulus would have put me through the roof! I groaned and growled as she teased and tormented my exposed thighs, buttocks, flanks and chest, not forgetting to remind my captured genitals of the heat of her touch. Having thoroughly aroused the beast within the cage, she casually wished me good night and retreated into the house! 

Words could not express the state I now found myself in. I moaned and writhed in the cage, unable to either overcome the strictures of my bondage, or to settle back to a state of calm. 

(I should note here that, in my continued hazardous practice of ‘working without a net,’ there was no way for me to signal my Mistress that I wanted to be released, had I done so. We have a “baby monitor” but found it didn’t really work from the garage to the house. My more radical proposal for a safety was vetoed by my Mistress—putting one of the garage door remote controls on the cage floor where I could activate it with a toe. Using it would certainly alert her of trouble, but it would also open the main garage door and activate interior and exterior lights, exposing me to any passers by--.)

My arousal and frustration was just wearing off when Mistress reappeared, turning on the lights and handing me keys to my cuffs and the cage. She stood by to watch me escape, saying that, after all, if I had dropped the keys outside the cage, I would have been out of luck, which was certainly true!

With reasonable speed I managed to undo my manacles, open the cage doors, and unlock the shackles from the cage floor. I grabbed my sandals, knowing I was going to have to wash anyway, and hobbled after my Mistress as she left me to follow her. 

Once inside the house, I relieved myself of the shackles, which were by now becoming uncomfortable (trying to walk in them is worse than standing still), and caught my Mistress in a rapturous hug. She laughed at being so embraced by this still faceless, voiceless, sexless figure, and directed me upstairs where the remaining keys, the shower, and eventual relief all awaited.   

Tammad’s Web Site:
 And the picture that started it all:

Still up, great pictures!

Extreme Restraints “The Jail Cell”

continued in
The Cage Experiments, Part 2 by Professor Challenger.


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