© Copyright 2007 - bound_tiger - Used by permission
Storycodes: MM/m; bond; susp; vacbed; latex; boxed; cons/reluct; XX
It was hard to do much more than just hang there. After a while the boredom got to me and even I dozed off for what I imagined was a short time. When I woke it was because something had changed, I felt odd for a moment and squirmed before I realized what it was that seemed different.
My eyes glanced down, following to where each of the two boys had been resting, neither was there, in fact, neither was even in sight. I was panting, which, generally speaking, is not the way I find myself waking. I shifted and rocked myself, though not much really in any direction, as I found that my options were quite limited by the hold that someone who was behind me and out of my range of vision had on the stretcher that was still attached to my balls. I held still and listened, then decided that it was Eric by the timber of his quiet noises of satisfaction that he was making. His hold was tight and I realized that any attempt at serious movement and I would be feeling major discomfort. At least that occurred to me before I had to learn it the hard way.
The source of my body's heightened sense of alertness and the panting I woke up to became more familiar as my head cleared and I started to think straight again. I started mnfing and groaning in to the gag that still held my mouth wide around it, muffling every noise and rendering me unable to speak clearly. I had noticed and was still somewhat assimilating that the hoist had lowered me; I was much closer to the bed, though far from actually resting on it, set at an easy height so that Eric could practice his oral skills. From what I could gather, he was lying on his back and had lowered me to where he could easily grab my legs and rock me to move my cock in and out of his mouth, sort of an oral fascination without the work. I grunted and groaned the feeling that woke me rising again and it all became clear. I had woken up right on the edge of orgasm Eric had been skillfully bringing me close and then backing me off carefully so I didn't quite reach climax.
I whimpered and tried to buck in my bonds a bit, a sure sign that this time I was truly awake. This drew, of course, a sharp tug from the stretcher that calmed my movements right back down. In he back of my mind I was wondering exactly how many times he had done this without waking me, but the rest of my brain was screaming for release, as was I, muffled behind the gag. He pulled back, actually, I realized, I did, the hoist lifting me up and away from Eric's mouth rapidly. Once I was high enough, I could see him lying there on his back, the bright yellow remote for the hoist in his hand. He smiled and gave me a little wave with his other hand, to which I grunted and squirmed, a drip of precum stretching out towards the bed from the tip of my glans. He seemed to listen at my muffled protests and shook his head, "No, if Andy finds out you've cum, he won't let you do it again for days as punishment."
His look turned worrisomely mischievous and fast as I went up, the hoist lowered me back down, settling me in the same position as before, rocking at the gentle tugs of Eric's arms and being pushed further and further toward the edge of orgasm. My eyes widened and I started to struggle firmly when I realized exactly what was on Eric's mind now. He was going to make me cum and then who knows what kind of trouble Andy would cook up for me!
Resisting from this strenuous a position is no easy task, that's for certain. All my fighting did was rock me a little faster than Eric had intended, this didn't do anything to slow me down and it hardly seemed two more seconds before my will to hold back any longer was broken, though I know it must have been longer; Eric was very skilled with his mouth and took great pleasure from drawing things out for as long as it suited his fancy. It was as if every slip of his soft, wet lips sliding along my erection was being etched in to my mind. The seconds stretched out and felt as if each one was an hour of ecstatic torture. Ever swipe of his saliva and precum coated tongue sent shivers up my spine and thrills through my legs, which twitched instinctively in response. Were I only free I'm certain I would have been holding that blond haired boy down and fucking his face like there was no tomorrow, though I could hardly do more now than make myself rock slightly.
Just as I was on the very tip of my orgasm, on the very edge, past the point of no return, Eric pushed the button and the hoist lifted slightly, just enough that instead of his warm mouth massaging me and drawing out my orgasm, my cock, jerking with spurt after spurt was landing practically every drop across the blond boy's face. Of course this accuracy and the follow-up stimulation were no product of chance, all the while I was hanging above him Eric had one hand wrapped around the base of my cock, squeezing, stroking and making sure my aim was spot on.
I groaned and moaned, twitching in the strong bonds while Eric let out a little half-submissive, half satisfied little whimpery sound. When I finished he lifted me back up as far as the hoist would take me and then left for the bathroom to get cleaned up. Eventually he returned with a damp cloth and cleaned me off as well, doing his best to eliminate any evidence of what happened. He lowered me again, this time right over him lying on his back. His arms and legs moved apart, and then hooked over mine to hug me close in the most awkwardly supportive aftercare hug I had ever experienced. After a while of this snuggling, he slipped out from under me and lowered me to the bed, undoing the harness and cuffs and laying my exhausted form out for more gentle massage.
Nearly asleep and in a somewhat trancelike state I recalled him whispering in to my ear that if I was a good boy he wouldn't tell Andy what I'd done. I could only sort of nod in agreement before I passed out from the sheer exhaustion of the day's events.
I must have slept for the majority of the remains of that day; I am a fairly heavy sleeper and it seems that Andy and Eric were learning what they could and couldn't do without waking me. The next time I woke it was when the shockingly cold and rather odd feeling of latex pressing down on my body. This feeling was not so much unfamiliar to me, I knew right away I was in my vacuum bed and that it was just sealing around me, but the feeling itself always seemed so different than any other.
I've never felt that I could properly describe the sensation of being sealed and trapped in rubber to others. Being inside the vacuum bed, especially the first time, is one of the most unique and alien experiences I have ever had. It feels as if you are being grabbed and held over every part of your body all at the same time, all with the same level of firmness. I have to admit, it is something that I've become rather fond of over the years and have ended up spending quite a lot of time inside of mine. The first moment was a bit of panic, it always is as I gasp and pant for the first few breaths. After I realized they had properly set up the airway, however, I started to relax and my breathing became regular. My body was spread out, legs apart, arms spread apart to either side and every part of me held immobile.
I always struggle at first; you can move to a degree once the vacuum takes hold, rubber stretches, but your muscles haven't the stamina that the tireless and inanimate latex does. The rubber simply flexes with your struggles, and then relentlessly pulls you back to your original place as you exhaust yourself. It wasn't long before I had worn myself out completely and lay there panting through the breathing tube, still and defeated. The negative pressure of the vacuum seemed to have been what woke me, even as exhausted as I was I guess my instincts decided this was something alarming enough that it deserved my waking attention.
The boys polished the top half of the latex, I could feel the cool mist from each spray of the polish and then the gentle rubbing of the cloth used to spread the shine around. I squirmed, trying to make suggestive maneuvers with my hips, most especially when the cloth rubbed over the rubber sheath, which I was already filling out nicely, my seemingly automatic reaction to being trapped in this way. After that they seemed to go off somewhere, either that or they were just sitting there watching me without touching or making much sound. I realized at some point along the line that they had, as was proper, put earplugs in to my ears, just as a precaution against the vacuum probably, but maybe to keep me from hearing them whispering and plotting as well.
When they did come back I felt something light being placed over top of me and to the side, over the frame of the vacuum bed to the left and right of me and the part over my head as well. Several of these things were placed one at a time as if they were fitting together some sort of puzzle. Several of the pieces were picked up and placed down a number of times as well, making adjustments, I had to assume, to whatever they were putting on me.
Again there was a while of silence and then I felt something else being done, I could feel and rather muffledly hear the sound of sheets being shaken out over me, then pulled up as if I were being tucked in under sheet and blanket for bed... But they didn't stop at my head, these were pulled up and over and I felt the first one getting tight. The way the pieces over and around me compacted with the pressure, I figured them for foam of some sort. I began to get what initially felt like a seriously paranoid idea but it soon was evident even to me, they weren't tucking me in under the sheets, they were making the bed over top of me! The pressure was from the fitted sheet being drawn tight over top of me and the foam, then the flat sheet was added, and the weight of pillows, then blankets. Before long I was sure I looked like nothing more than a freshly made bed, even with my squirming.
I felt more weight, that of the two boys climbing on the bed and then tucking themselves under the covers. The pressure felt quite even, and though my breathing was somewhat labored from the weight, the breathing tube itself had obviously been routed clear, because the air that I was getting was still reasonably fresh. I wasn't sure what was going on or how they accomplished this until I thought about the light foam I had been feeling before, they must have cut the foam to be the inverse of my body and the frame so that their bed would be comfortable and not all lumpy. I felt the two of them settle slowly in to sleeping positions, then I felt someone groping around, a hole must have been left in the foam so they could reach down and tease my rubber sheathed member. I whimpered and tried my best to squirm, though it was only a gentle, sleepy stroking that the one of them managed. This continued, stopping sometimes for five or ten minutes as the owner of the hand that was teasing me obviously dozed off and then woke again, for almost two hours before it seemed the teasing boy was asleep for the night. After a while, despite my arousal, I managed to find some sleep as well.
It was hard to judge if it was morning or not, the boys had occasionally moved around over me, but for most of the night I was little more than an occasionally squirmy bed. This changed in the morning though, one of them got up and I thought I heard the shower running, though I couldn't be certain with my ears plugged. The remaining boy stripped off the blankets, tossed aside the pillows, removed the sheets and the foam pieces and I lay there exposed once again. I've always felt that my vacuum bed has the ability to leave me more naked than naked. When I am trapped inside the bed, my every feature perfectly defined by the rubber and entirely helpless, I feel as though I am on display, my rubber-defined features more obvious than they would be were I simply lying there in the nude.
As helpless as I was to move, I was similarly helpless to keep the breathing tube in my mouth; whoever was working on me pulled it out and removed it from the latex enclosure entirely. I pursed my lips and tried to breathe through the hole in the rubber desperately squirming around with all my might and getting little movement out of it, not nearly enough to do anything. I didn't have to struggle long though, the opening for the breathing tube was stretched wide, much wider than normal, so that an open mouth gag could be pushed through it and in to my mouth. I could breathe easily again, though I began to worry why he'd changed my breathing tube for this, did they think I wasn't getting enough air all of the sudden?
I guessed he thought the new setup was good because after listening to me test and breathe with the new device a few times, he decided on a little test for himself. His lips pressed against the gag that propped my mouth helplessly open and I felt his tongue exploring over mine. I was at a rather obvious disadvantage and he found ways to trap my tongue under his over and over. Finally he seemed satisfied that everything was in order with my mouth and moved on.
The next thing I felt was fingers exploring over the sheath affixed to the front of the bed. I was already hard, though a few gentle strokes didn't hurt the cause at all. His fingers danced up and down my erection and it wasn't long before I was whining and doing my best to beg through the gag. Begging didn't seem to interest him though, he was focused instead on stroking me with just his fingertips. After a while he added lubricant and began to use his whole hand, but still it was far too slow to even start coming close to getting me off. His hand changed angles, though he kept gently teasing me as best he could while he was obviously repositioning himself, moving around so that he could climb on to the bed and then sitting over my legs, kneeling really, with a knee on either side of my hips, sitting himself gently just above my knees.
The teasing returned, continued at a renewed pace, really, and I could feel that he was shifting around, probably stroking himself with one hand and me with the other. I shifted and squirmed as well, trying to move and struggle more, at least attempting to push my hips up against these teasing strokes. With the mystery boy perched over me though, the rubber was much more tightly stretched than usual and I could hardly move my hips at all. I couldn't even say how long this went on for, it seemed as though I got to a threshold of pleasure that my mind could hardly cope with and I sort of drifted in and out, moaning a little through the gag… Or perhaps I was moaning a bit more lustfully than I want to remember, as much blush comes to my cheeks as I think back on that particular moment.
I had become hardly aware of the boy's movements, and he had moved quite a bit, I finally noticed when I snapped out of my lustful stupor. Somehow he'd managed to keep stroking me as he moved forward, and after getting up on his knees he slowly positioned and lowered himself until my rubber sheathed glans rested against the tight opening of his ass. He pressed down very slowly, forcing himself down on me with patience and extreme gentleness even though I almost immediately began to thrash with all my might to try and push my hips forward. His hands went down on my hips and the little I could manage to move before was erased. Slowly, slowly he lowered himself down until his skin touched my rubber encased thighs and he was sitting down on my hips with his weight completely on me. I was shivering and whining to myself, I could hardly take having to just lie there while this hot, tight ass was wrapped around me. Never in my life had I wanted so much to just grab on to someone and just screw their brains out as I did now, but I was just along for the ride.
Slowly he began to lift off and then slowly he'd lower back down. I could feel he was stroking himself again and it got faster, then faster again, though his movements up and down on me were still painfully slow. I whimpered and cried out muffled nonsense as I tried desperately to find something to push me to my desperately needed orgasm. There was a noise; I could have sworn I heard through my earplugs, then a tensing of the legs that were moving against mine. I realized suddenly that he was very close to his edge. I tried to move my hips a little to encourage him to lose his discipline and simply thrust himself down on me with abandon, but he was steady in his course and, accompanied by moans and an almost growl-like sound, I began to feel the impact of hot drops of his cum landing all over my latexed over form. All I could do was enjoy the tightening around my hard cock, but it still wasn't quite enough and I was left whining and whimpering, thinking my chance had passed.
The boy got up off of me slowly and then began wiping a here and there over the rubber with a towel. He seemed to be moving around over me in an effort to clean up his mess, crawling here and there, but this proved to be simply a distraction and before I knew it his still-hard cock all musky with fresh orgasm pressed right in through the open mouth gag and over my tongue. I was so shocked that I didn't react for a few moments while this sank in, though in those moments I realized that I had to take action quickly as I was going to need another breath very soon.
I did my best, tongue lashing at him, licking off what remained of his fresh seed before he started moving his hips, thrusting in and out. These were slow, short thrusts at first while I learned to try and breathe around his cock, then longer ones as he tried to fit in to my throat. I swallowed hard and was getting up a good rhythm of stimulating with my tongue and throat between gasps for breath whenever I could get them. My concentration rather suddenly caught short, however, when his hand wrapped around my cock again. This time my torturing boy started stroking me fast right away and between all the teasing and the limited amount of breath that was leaving my head spinning in a state of arousal which was so great that it was hard to conceive, I didn't hold out more than about 30 seconds.
His response to my orgasm was to thrust in deeper and deeper until he'd managed his way in to my throat. I thrashed both from the orgasm and also in response to the cutting off of my precious air. He didn't make me hold my breath for long, though my frantic struggles and hard swallows around his cock had what I might have guessed was the desired effect, he pulled back, I gasped for a lungful of air and then just as I was ready to breathe out again he came again in my mouth, seemingly just as intensely as the last orgasm just a few minutes ago. He forced me to swallow some then pulled out and I felt the hot drops of his cum falling on to the latex over my face, splashing on the surface of the rubber and then trickling down my perfectly outlined cheeks.
There were a few quick dabs with a towel while I gasped and whined, and then he got up and was gone some time. Once again I was alone and I managed to get my breath back, my heartbeat slowing to something approaching normal while my sweat-soaked body cooled under the rubber.
It was quiet, the earplugs and the vacuum around my head, along with the white noise created by the machine pumping out air making it impossible for me to hear much of anything now. I began to truly relax, thinking I might fall asleep again and feeling that sleepiness crawl across my consciousness until I felt someone climbing on to the bed.
This time my head was kneeled astride right away and I knew it must have been the other boy, not that I was entirely sure who had started with me before, as his legs were hot, the way that someone who had just come out of the shower would feel. He didn't say anything at all, didn't even make a noise, but simply proceeded to thrust in to my mouth just as his partner had been doing.
This time the treatment was not quite as gentle, I wasn't given time to figure out what his rhythm would be, I had to catch a breath wherever I could, and he was harder, dripping and much more excited than the previous, more methodical invader to my mouth had been.
He started up thrusting hard and fast, waiting for me to start thrashing before he'd pause to give me one or two breaths, then would begin again. In this manner, I think he was managing to bring himself close over and over, but then stop and give himself time to let his orgasm recede before starting again. It occurred to me that this must have been the one who had teased me on and off through the night, what else would have left him so aroused as to need to draw this out for so long. Eventually I could feel his thighs trembling when he would pause between thrusts, exhaustion mixing with the strain of holding himself back finally getting to him. I felt him following the now-familiar pattern, getting ready to pull himself back and cool off again when his control finally slipped and he began to thrust wildly, his orgasm beginning mere seconds after he would have pulled out of my propped-open mouth.
I swallowed as fast as I could as pulse after pulse of pent-up orgasm were pumped in to my mouth, more than I had expected, and my head was already swimming from my denied break for regular breathing. He seemed to realize this quickly and pulled out, hot fluid dripping on the latex covering my face once more, but at least I could swallow and then start to catch up with my body's demands for air.
Again there were a few dabs with a towel before I felt him climb back off of the bed and I was alone in my rubber prison once more.
I caught my breath and drifted off to sleep, completely overwhelmed from the intensity of the scene ... and with the nagging feeling in the back of my mind that maybe this had started to go further than just a game.
It was three days after Christmas and I had spent just about every moment from when I closed the last locks on my own self-bondage on Christmas eve in one fully restrained position or another.
The freak snowstorm that had struck the area and left me restrained overnight unexpectedly on Christmas eve had passed and warmer air had moved in to the area, melting away the snow and bringing color back in to the world, at least from where I could see it; generally I only got a glance or two out of the back windows when I was lucky enough to be unhooded for meals and other things that the boys found necessary.
It was beginning to seem to me that the boys were taking the idea of the twelve days of Christmas a bit too seriously when it came to my restraint. I worried from time to time that perhaps they considered that I was their Christmas gift, and that they intended to treat me as such for the duration of their trip or longer, but I told myself that this thought was silly and I set it aside. The fourth, fifth, and sixth days after Christmas featured varying forms of restraint with what seemed to me to be a stunningly large number of orgasms between the two boys and, to my distress and immense frustration, nothing but teasing to near-climax for me.
During this time the boys kept me constantly under lock and key. If they wished to have me mobile, I would be dressed in my tight-fitting darlex straightjacket with a collar on and lead on a leash. The language and tone from which seemed almost as if they were trying to get me used to following on the lead, but I thought little of this as well, they were having fun and experimenting and it had been days since I had been allowed to speak, so I had begun to think of them as knowing what they were doing.
There was also plenty of time when they boys didn't want me going anywhere. During those times, I was either tied with my limbs spread apart on the couch, or placed in to a confining darlex sleepsack that kept my legs together and my arms immobilized inside internal sleeves, then fitted with a darlex hood and left lying on my bed while the boys amused themselves, occasionally teasing me or sitting devising more plans for my continued imprisonment.
It was after one of these sessions on the bed when the boys helped me in to a black rubber catsuit that left me covered from neck to toe. The two boys had worked out a system to make sure I didn't manage to struggle free in transition between one form of restraint and another, and they had it down fairly well at this point. Another catsuit was pulled on over the rubber, this one requiring patience and some amount of lubrication, because really it was more of a dive suit than a catsuit, the material it was made of being thick, insulating neoprene. Between the layer of rubber and the neoprene, I was starting to heat up rather quickly and became a bit squirmy in the grip of the two boys.
A collar was put around my neck and another set of expanding foam plugs were placed into my ears. Andy had my attention, attaching a leash to the front of my collar, when Eric quickly pulled a hood over my head from behind, startling me at first when my sight was suddenly cut off. This hood had no openings for eyes, but did have one for my mouth, as well as two small grommeted holes so that I could breathe through my nose. I was already panting, heart racing from the forceful descent in to darkness. Eric patted me on the head and said something like 'good boy', but it was hard to hear clearly through the plugs that were filling my ears.
There was a tug at the leash while Eric, from behind, helped me to my feet, keeping my wrists pinned together with his strong hands. I followed the tug as I had been doing for the last few days and it lead me out of my room. The boys were a bit more careful when we reached the stairs and I was guided down one step at a time, obviously not expected to follow a leash blindly in a situation which could send me tumbling out of control. Once I was back on even ground, I was guided through the house and then stopped. I heard something, possibly a door opening, and then felt the cool outside air push past me, my body was insulated, but my hands and face could still feel the difference in temperature quite acutely. Another tug at the leash, but this time I resisted, shaking my hooded head and mnfing muffledly to try and indicate that I didn't think that outdoor activities were a good idea! This protest, however, was largely ignored and I was lead and pushed out what seemed to me to be the back door of the house. At least the back yard was fenced in with tall privacy fencing, a large area of which was taken up by a pool but an even larger area inside the fence was open and empty, covered in grass and the last remnants of our Christmas Eve snow.
Once we were a few steps outside, the boys started with what felt like all sorts of straps. I determined that there were wrist, elbow and ankle cuffs, as well as a strap harness for my torso to which everything was clipped. My hands, now cuffed at my sides, were pushed in to padded leather fist mitts that caused my fingers to curl up inside of them, leaving my fingers even more helpless than they already had been. A harness of some sort was being buckled around my waist and through my legs, and I immediately knew, even before I felt the wisp of horse hair brush against my leg that this was my tail harness. At that point it was no great intuitive leap to realize that my entire collection of pony gear had been located and I was now being dressed in every piece that could be worn at the same time.
My 'tail', now attached to the back of its harness, hung down proudly from the base of my tailbone, not down between my legs like one of those buttplug-attached tails that I felt so thoroughly ruined the aesthetic of a pony. Someone held it out of the way and I was guided to sit on one of the patio chairs while knee high boots were pulled up my legs. The moment my feet slid in to these I knew what they were, the extreme angle of my feet could mean only one thing, this wasn't just dress-up, they were putting me in my pony hoof boots, which meant I was going to be expected to do some trotting. Pony boots, can be, are really, quite harsh to walk in, the toe and ball of your foot bearing your entire weight so that you would walk along on the hooves that are formed in the front of the boot without any support in the back at all. The angle of your foot in the boot is quite severe, but I wasn't so unused to them that I would make strenuous objections. Instead, I waited, admittedly curious as to what would happen next, while I felt the two boys racing each other to see who could get their boot laced the fastest and the tightest. I can honestly say that I think it was too close to call.
The last thing, the finishing touch, as it were, was the bit and bridle set, a complicated series of interconnected straps that enclosed my already hooded head and forced a plastic-coated metal bit deep in to my mouth. This and the body harness and all of the cuffs and straps required lots of adjustment, half of which had to be done after I had been helped to my feet, which quickly started complaining about the uneven distribution of weight. The moment they were both satisfied they led me over to the grassy area. I just stood there, swaying a little as I got used to balancing on my toes on the soft, slightly uneven surface. The leash was unhooked and my bit was fiddled with while the clips from reins were attached. When I felt the bit move from the reins being flicked and a burning, stingy smack on my rump from what could only be the leather tip of a riding crop landing its mark, I grunted and started to slowly walk forward. Once it was seen that I was sure of my footing, I felt the flick again and I began to move faster, turning my head to follow the bit, though not quite turning my body as much as I might have if I had really though I was taking direction from it. I realized my mistake rather quickly as the corrective blows of the riding crop came down and immediately started to follow the direction of the bit with much greater attentiveness.
I made muffled little yelps and whines in protest, they weren't much, and I was trying harder to keep from drooling on myself due to the bit than making noise. I did my best to follow the tugs from the reigns and the muffled, half-heard commands given without the benefit of sight or proper hearing. An hour of this play and I was sweating and panting hard through the nose holes of the hood and around the bit. I felt like I had run a circle around the fenced-in yard 1000 times when they finally relented and I was led back inside. My bit and bridle-harness was removed and I was sat down while someone held a sports drink with a straw in it for me. I didn't need much encouragement, even in the cool winter air I had worked up quite a sweat from all of that trotting around and I needed the hydration badly. When it looked like I was satisfied for the time being, the leash was re-attached to my collar and I was lead very carefully up the stairs and back to my room.
I had obviously done well by the boys; they were gentle when they lowered me to the bed and the boots, straps and cuffs were all carefully removed, and finally the hood. It was dark in the room now, it must have been dark outside as well as no light came in from the windows. Eric helped me sprawl my poor battered and overworked body out on the bed and he rubbed my shoulders, then my legs top to bottom. I was utterly helpless under Eric's masterful touch and could not even muster the strength to flinch when he got to the sorest spots.
I tend to drift off during massages, and I'd been worked harder on my hooves than I could ever properly remember having done before. I fell rather soundly asleep while my muscles were rubbed and pummeled back in to shape. When I woke again I was being set down somewhere else that was soft, but definitely not my bed.
At this point, I had not slept in my bed in the traditional way since the night before Christmas Eve, and the last few days I'd spent sleeping either under the two boys as part of their mattress, or between them, helplessly bundled in a sleepsack, teased through at least part of the night either way. I really paid little mind to most of my relocation; I was still quite comfortable from the massage and my brain was sluggish, half asleep and full of endorphins still from the hour of pony trotting in the back yard. It wasn't until I felt the stocks go around my head, middle, thighs and ankles that I realized where I was.
I'd been working on a 'toy box', as I called it, in my basement for some time, it seemed the boys had found it and carried it upstairs to my room, obviously having first finished up a few things that I hadn't managed. I now lay inside the box, six feet long and just wide enough for me to fit comfortably in. Stocks were built in to the bottom of the box and only the top half of each needed to be pushed in place to pin me in the box. Once I couldn't move at all, padding was added around and under my body for proper support of my weight. I whined softly as the three part lid closed over top of me and the box.
Something I wasn't expecting, and that had never been in the box's plan was the two piece mouth guard that pressed against my lips and forced its way in as the closing lid put pressure on me. I didn't fight it and my mouth was left wide inside of the box. This baffled me, there was no reason to keep my mouth open in the box, but yet this device had been added. In a moment there was an echoing click of a lock, I was in here to stay for a while.
There were faint sounds of movement or something scraping on the top of the box, and then I felt fingers reach in and feel around at my open mouth. The boys had modified the lid of my toy box so that things could be stuck through in to my mouth! It didn't take long for something to be pressed in to my defenseless mouth, either, a little whine escaping me as the hard cock bullied its way in.
There were several quick thrusts followed by several long, slow ones obviously designed to tease before the boy's erection was withdrawn and replaced with another that was just as hard. This followed the same pattern, quick thrusts, then slow teasing ones for a while and then a swap of 'partner'.
It seemed like the two of them would keep this up all night when there was a sudden sharp thrust out of the rhythm that I had gotten used to. I could hear scuffling up above me on the lid and another sharp thrust. There were yelps and whines of protest, but the thrusts in to my mouth continued, off pattern but without much of a stop. It occurred to me that the only thing that might be causing this erratic behavior was that the boy on top of the toy box lid that was force-feeding me his cock was being thrust in to his partner, who was now perched on top of him and was thrusting to his own rhythm.
The oddly timed thrusts continued and the cock in my mouth dribbled precum, which I swallowed as fast as I could manage. Above me things were heating up and I could feel the cock in my mouth growing even harder and pulsing quickly with its owner's racing heartbeat. I did my best to manage the erratic thrusts and all of the fluid while still remaining able to get in a gasp or two of breath from time to time when without warning the boy forcing his way in to my mouth came, growling loud enough that I heard it well in my padded prison. His formerly erratic thrusts became powerful and regular, matching the pulses of his orgasm that filled my helpless mouth and caused me to have to swallow even faster than before. I couldn't tell exactly what the state of his partner on top was at this point, but the muffled groans and cries gave me a good idea.
Eventually my mouth was withdrawn from and I heard someone say loudly from outside, "Goodnight toy, enjoy your new home." I whined loudly and struggled, but I had designed these stocks myself, based on my own measurements and the tolerances for these were tight and more or less perfect. I was left with only one small comfort, something from the lid made a clicking sound and my jaws were allowed to close as much as they could with the guards still over my teeth. At least I wasn't expected to endure a forced-open jaw all night.
There wasn't much left to do once the boys went off to sleep in my bed. I lay there daydreaming, almost asleep, when I began to hear the quiet murmuring of a recording. The program sounded vaguely like some hypnosis recordings that I had downloaded at one time or another from the Internet out of curiosity, but I was so tired that I couldn't follow them and ended up drifting off to sleep.
As I slept, the subconscious part of my mind listened to that recording over and over again, "You are a toy, you want to be a good toy, good toys always do what they are told..."
I woke up the next morning in the dark, dazed and at first unsure of where I was or what exactly had startled me out of sleep. I have to imagine that anyone who practices self-bondage eventually falls asleep and wakes up bound, but I wasn't sure that I would ever really get used to the disorientation, the momentary panic and little struggle that it always caused.
It didn't take long for last night's scene to come back to me, the box, the foam, the stocks holding me still. My struggles made me certain that the restraints were still there and that I was still held in more or less the same position as I had been when I'd been boxed earlier. It might have been a few hours or a whole night, though in the box I had even less sense of time passing than in my previous forms of restraint. All of those let me see at least a tiny bit of light, but inside of the toy box there was not even the smallest speck for me to see.
I listened intently to try and figure out if perhaps a sound had woken me but there was none, the house was quiet. I listened some more, even through the muffling insulation the padding inside the toy box provided, it seemed too quiet for anyone to actually be anywhere in the house. I'd been hooded and left in my vacuum bed a lot in the days since the boys had arrived and I had always heard some noises of their presence in the house; now it sounded as if no one was moving about in my home at all and I started to squirm a bit, worried.
Of course I tried to keep calm, telling myself that the boys were trustworthy and there'd be no reason for them to leave me alone... Yet it seemed as if they had and I couldn't quite quell the panic that began to rise when I tried to count in my head the number of days they had been at my home and reconcile that against the number of days I was thinking it would be until their flight home. My heart began race and my breath started to become shallow and quick, my eyes wide in the pitch black of the box.
I shifted in my restraints, the box, already something close to a two hundred pound piece of furniture before my weight had been added to it, not budging at all even at my strongest struggles. At first I thought that maybe the boys had left me a way to get myself free, but that was quickly proven not to be the case after I tried every possible movement of arm, leg, finger and toe, all proving fruitless to finding a catch or hold that might lead to my eventual freedom. I am not quite sure how long I struggled, but I kept at it until I had thoroughly exhausted myself, panting and sweating in the restraints which I had not even managed to budge one small inch. The intolerable silence went on for what felt like hours and I drifted in and out of sleep.
During the times I was awake I noticed a few differences in my bondage than I had remembered from the night before. My gag had been changed out from the open mouthed one to a phallic rubber gag that was somewhat chewy. I also could feel there was something near to my thighs that I bumped a little if I could move just the right way. I didn't take much note of these things, it isn't as if they made much of a difference to me and I couldn't really move to explore them anyway. I drifted off to sleep again, taking little ten and twenty minute cat naps.
Again I woke at ... something, I wasn't sure though. I thought I saw a glow through my eyelids and I opened them without thinking. Floating just in front of my eyes something was lit up and I squinted, my eyes having gone extraordinarily light sensitive after so much time in the darkness of the box. If I had thought that things about this toy had changed, this was certainly more than I could possibly have expected. As my eyes adjusted and I could finally see what was in front of me, the dim glow resolved in to a digital display spelled out the word, "Hello" in blue letters. I blinked to make sure I was really seeing this, though it was still there when I looked again, still spelling the same word for a long minute or two before the display changed. "We had to go out but we didn't want you to get bored or in trouble so we left you some entertainment." This message scrolled by several times, then the display changed to show the time, 1:07 pm.
I was left to wonder what exactly watching a display of the time was going to do to keep me from getting bored. Indeed it seemed less to help with my boredom than anything. I watched the minutes go by, each one seeming to take so long that I began to think that the display had been rigged to run a clock slower than normal. Still, the seconds seemed to pass by at the right number when I counted, it was designed to mess with my head, I was sure of that, but at least it seemed to be keeping proper time… not that I could know if it was day or night outside, but I suppose they would have no reason to make me believe it was some time other than what the clock was saying. Likely the clock I was seeing was generated from being attached to a computer somewhere anyway, I though, and I was even more sure of that when display reached 1:10pm and I heard an audible click from outside of the box.
I couldn't be sure what was going on now, the feelings that immediately began to rise inside of me were perplexing at first; it felt as if someone or something was touching me in various places. After the initial shock of feeling, the touch seemed confined to some gentle stroking over my nipples. The feeling was of something soft being dragged around in circles, though I couldn't figure out just what. I couldn't help but react to this, I'd been stuck inside this box without relief from all of that teasing the boys had done to me the evening before and in moments I was hard and straining to push my hips up against the foam surrounding me. I felt the tip of my erection touch whatever cool thing I had felt previously with my hip. A moment after the first contact I felt a rush of air sucking by my glans before the cool thing moved down over my entire erection. I jumped and struggled as much as I could in the box's restraints, which wasn't much at all, but whatever it was didn't seem too inclined to get dislodged.
After a few panicked breaths I realized that whatever had me didn't seem to hurt, it wasn't even that cold after a while, the feeling was more liquid anyway, like cool lube rather than something metal – though honestly I couldn't say one way or the other what exactly had me down there. The suction that had pulled the thing down continued, gently pulling on my engorged and sensitive flesh. It didn't take me long to figure out that this was obviously what the message meant would keep me entertained.
For a moment, the clock display over my eyes changed to say, "Have fun!" and then went back to telling the time as before. I closed my eyes and tried to shift my hips and hump against the sucking tube that held me, moaning and panting at the stimulation it provided. The piece rubbing my nipples was sufficiently random to keep my interest going as well, getting me squirming in my restraints again, moaning and whimpering, the only movement I was able to achieve was mainly through the compressing the foam around the areas where I wasn't caught in the inflexible stocks.
I kept up doing this for a while with my eyes closed, struggling until my hips were tired of fighting the resistance of the padding around me. I opened my eyes a little to see that it had been almost 25 minutes and, while I was quite worked up from the teasing that whatever was attached to me was doing, I hadn't figured out how to get myself up to where I could have an orgasm. I whined and struggled weakly now, tired out from all the movement before and unable to summon much strength, not that what I had been doing before had added much in the way of additional stimulation anyway.
I mnnfed in to the gag and looked at the time again, just as it was changing to 1:30pm, the clock disappeared and a message scrolled across the screen, "We'll be back to check on you after we have dinner and see a movie tonight." After that there were no more messages, just the steady blue glow of the clock's display slowly advancing one minute at a time. The speakers adjacent to my ears began the entrancing guided hypnosis that was just barely loud enough for me to make out, similar to the recording I heard the night before as I drifted off to sleep. This one built on last night's foundation, good toys got pleasure, and I felt pleasure because I was a good toy. The clock display changed to a memorizing pattern of light and darkness as I drifted in a half-asleep state, receptive to the suggestions. Now the only sound in the house were the occasional muffled whimpers and moans that seemed to be coming from the large wooden box at the foot of the master bed with a sturdy silver lock hanging from its hasp.