Sorry for the wait. This part went through many rewrites and ended up a lot shorter than I had initially intended. But all stories have weak parts.
Without further ado,
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PART IV
I’m not sure how long the Icy Hot continued to sting my crotch. Having your vision blocked off really messes with your view of time. However, the pain eventually transitioned into a dull sizzle, and then into nothing at all.
I’ve read before that, when you start practicing with bondage, it’s something you need to be eased into. I get a firsthand experience into why that is. The position I was locked into -- hands tied to the chair behind my back, feet tied to the back legs, jaw aching on this rancid sock gag, blindfolded by the other sock -- was taking a toll on me, physically and mentally. Every 30 minutes felt like 5 hours had passed. I longed to get up, stretch my joints.
The other horrible thing about this condition was how cold this garage was. I could feel my nuts snug up against me, trying to find warmth. The parts of the metal chair that weren’t in direct contact with my body for long periods of time were freezing. At this point I longed to sleep, but not only had I already slept so much, the temperature in the garage wouldn’t have gotten me comfortable enough to sleep anyways.
At one point -- I couldn’t tell when, but it must’ve been at least 5 hours after Ryan left me in here -- I heard the door that connects the garage to the main part of the house open, startling me. It’s terrifying being tied and blindfolded, not being able to see who was in the room. I could only assume it was Ryan.
I heard him pulling a chair up across from me and taking a seat. His hand starting at my knee, running itself up my thigh. I heard quiet grunts and moans. He was jacking off again.
My penis stiffened in response to his motions. As a typical guy, obviously I loved stimulation. But I’ve never been in a situation where I felt like I needed to cum this bad. It’s this weird feeling that’s difficult to explain -- almost like a dull tingling in my cock and balls. Especially right now, him running his fingers around me, not touching me where I wanted to be touched.
His fingers left me, and I could tell by Ryan’s intense grunts towards the end that he was orgasming. Last time he shot his seed on me, but I don’t know where it went this time.
There was a brief moment of silence, assumedly Ryan’s body was trying to recover. Then, he spoke to me.
“Be right back,” he told me, patting me roughly on the cheek. I grunted as he left me in the garage again.
He returned a couple of minutes later and knelt down in front of me.
“So I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you,” he began, touching my inner thigh with the back of his hand, causing me to spasm at the minor sensation. “The good news is I think I’m gonna let you cum tonight, because I want to see you cum as much as you probably want to. The bad news, however, is I’m gonna need a little insurance policy for today.”
Insurance policy? I didn’t have time to contemplate before Ryan gave me his answer. His fingers worked quickly, as if he was racing against some sort of clock. Pulling my dick and balls through a couple of rings, sliding a phallic-shaped device over my penis. I was horrified. It was a chastity device. Ryan was imprisoning my manhood.
I shook about violently, but my dick grew, anyways. Hitting the walls of the cage, it had no room to expand. It only caused discomfort.
Ryan removed my blindfold. He was wearing just a simply black t-shirt and blue sweatpants, juxtaposed to my complete nakedness. He was still knelt down in front of me. I desperately wish I could take my knee right now and ram him in the jaw. He touched my junk, fascinated by the contraption. His hands irritated me (and, also, they definitely weren’t easing my erection any).
“I’ve had a lot of practice putting these on. My ex-girlfriend used to make me wear one all the time. I know it sucks, especially when you’re 18 and all you can think about is blowing a load.” He made circling motions around my testicles, and then flicked my left testicle, causing me to squeal out in response. “This seems a little tight on you. Perfect.”
He got up and moved behind me. He slightly bent over, running his hands through my chest, my abs, towards my thighs. He leaned in close, his warm breath sending goosebumps down my neck. I could only shake and scream into my sock gag.
“Don’t get too upset,” he told me. “I’m not gonna keep that cage on you all the time. I just need a little insurance. I’m gonna try to give you a little freedom today, so that should keep you from escaping -- knowing that I own a piece of you.” He moved downwards, and began to work on the rope that immobilized me. “Oh, and don’t get your hopes up about the ‘freedom’ thing. I don’t mean that I’m letting you out of the house. I just mean things like, not holding your dick when you take a leak.” And then he laughed. “Well, I guess you won’t be holding your dick, either.”
God I hated him.
He finished untying my legs, and it took everything in my power not to kick him -- but him being behind me, and fearing what repercussions I could face, nullified that plan.
He moved up to free my arms, but they weren’t left free for long, as he took handcuffs again to secure my hands behind my back.
He grabbed me by my armpit. “Stand up,” he told me.
Ryan then escorted me out of the garage into the main house. Whoever designed the house did a good job. It was incredibly modern and open with interesting choices for color patterns. Through the kitchen and living room and then down the hall, he led me into the bathroom.
Pushing my inside, he told me, “You got 10 minutes to do whatever you want. Try anything funny and you’ll be sorry,” and promptly shut the door. Not that there was much that I could try. Not only was I handcuffed, but there were no windows.
Standing in the bathroom alone, I realized even more how badly I needed to take a shit. I fumbled awkwardly, trying to lift the toilet seat up with my hands behind my back. It felt even more awkward having to sit on the toilet with my hands behind my back at all. Even worse was trying to pee with this cock cage on me. I couldn’t help but worry that it was all just going to collect in there and for a hot minute I couldn’t force anything to come out, but eventually my full bladder finally saw release, and I felt relief that everything came out normally.
After I finished doing my business (including struggling to wash my hands and, TMI, wipe myself) I stood there and looked in the mirror at my new predicament. I felt a mix of emotions looking at my pathetic state -- anger, disappointment, frustration, sadness. Seeing duct tape cover my stuffed mouth, the small chastity device that imprisoned my cock. This was not how I wanted to begin my spring break, and I felt a rush of anxiety thinking that this is how I was going to spend my who-
“Time’s up!” Ryan rushed into the room, making me jump and knocking my thoughts out of my head. “Dude you didn’t flush? Disgusting.
“Anyways, it’s time for breakfast! You hungry?” I mmph’d a yes, and he ruffled my hair. “Then let’s go!”
He led me back to the kitchen and into a chair. Much to my approval, he didn’t fasten me to the chair in anyway, even though I still felt annoyed and awkward having my arms behind me at all times.
Ryan grabbed a pair of scissors from over by the counter and pressed the edge up against my face, causing me to wince. “By the way, I strongly encourage you not to speak. I may not let you finish your meal if you do.” Then he began to cut the layers of the duct tape that encompassed my face. Finally, with a quick wrap-around motion that I was not prepared for, he ripped the tape off my skin and hair. I cried out a muffled response, luckily for the sock gag or the noise I made might’ve upset Ryan for being too loud. He reached in and pulled out the sock gag. You know that feeling of relief you get from sitting down after standing on feet all day? That’s the same kind of relief I got with my jaw.
He ruffled my hair. “All right, Champ, let me get you some food.” I wanted to say so many things to Ryan, but I took his threat to heart and didn’t utter a word.
He brought over to the table a simple tray of chips and salsa. There wasn’t a lot there, but it was all neatly organized for aesthetic pleasure.
“You could call me somewhat of a culinary enthusiast,” Ryan told me. “I made the salsa myself.”
He took a chip and dipped into the salsa, and then brought it up to my lips. “Open.” I obliged, and he tenderly fed me.
Fuck! This salsa was really good!
He fed me several more chips, each one as delicious as the last. “What do you think? Do you like it?” he asked me.
I was hesitant. Was this a trick? Is he going to punish me for speaking? I looked into his deep blue eyes (cheesy description, I know). He seemed really eager to hear a response from me. I think he does want me to speak right here. “Um... yes, it’s very good.”
“Yes -- who?”
“What?”
He placed a hand on my upper thigh, faintly supporting his weight on me. “When you speak to me, you will address me as ‘Sir.’ So I’ll ask you again: Do you like it?”
God, I really don’t want to say this. “Yes, um... Yes, Sir. It’s very good.... Sir.” It felt demeaning, being naked in front of another man, forced to address him with such formalities.
“Very good, boy!” He picked up another chip and proceeded to dip it. “I added a last minute special ingredient, too. I hadn’t tasted it myself since, so I wasn’t sure how it turned out.”
He held the chip up to my mouth and I took the bite. “Do you want to know what that ingredient is?” I didn’t respond, I was just happy to be eating. “Well, I made it in the garage a couple of minutes ago.”
I kinda stopped chewing there and let that sink in. I knew what it was. I couldn’t taste it, but the thought of it pissed me off. Impulsively, I spat whatever was in my mouth back into his face. Big mistake.
With a sudden burst of rage, he smacked me hard on the side of my head, and then roughly grabbed me by a handful of my hair. “Apologize to me right now, boy.”
“Fuck you!” I was getting too hotheaded for my own good.
He let go of my hair and got behind me. Clamping one hand over my mouth, the other grabbing me by my arms, he pulled me off the chair and through the house. I struggled as hard as I could, swinging my feet, trying to make myself into a deadweight, but he was a lot stronger than me, and his 6’4” frame easily dragged me. Taking me down the stairs into the basement, he uttered angry words at me, and things like, “You’ve just made life a lot worse for you.” I kept up my angry guise, mostly because I didn’t want to seem like a weak target in front of his all of a sudden, but part of me was beginning to feel slightly terrified.
The basement was essentially a big, open family room, with a mini kitchen, some various activities such as gym equipment and a pool table, and several rooms off to the side. The lights were off, but mini windows allowed some naturally light to faintly illuminate everything. He shoved me towards the middle of the room. Unable to catch myself with my arms, I landed on the ground with a thud. I screamed out as loud as I can, but my screaming was quickly cut off as Ryan affixed a large, blue ballgag in my mouth. My jaw, still sore from last night, did not like this foreign object. Ryan chained it to the back of my head, securing it in place, no matter how hard I tried to push it out with my tongue.
Ryan quickly went to work on securing me. He went down to my lower end and, taking a row of duct tape, started at my ankles and began wrapping. And wrapping. And wrapping. Moving upwards with each wrap around. I fought for a little bit, frustrating him. When he got really fed up, he would hit me on the back of my thighs, my ass, or on my lower back. Eventually, I got tired of the pain he was inflicting on me, and stopped struggling. There was no use.
He taped all the way up to my knees before he finally ripped up the giant strand of duct tape. He moved back, leaning his back on the sofa that was in the basement. I didn’t look at him, keeping my head turned the other way, but I heard him taking in and letting out big, deep breaths. Several minutes went by in complete silence other than Ryan’s breathing. I didn’t even dare to think about moving or making any kind of noises.
Finally, Ryan moved from his position. He straddled my back, placing his weight on my ass, and ran his fingers gently up and down my back. I was weirded out, and still a little frightened, but I didn’t fight him or anything. In fact, it was actually kind of pleasurable. It’s been a long time since somebody rubbed my back like that.
“I’m sorry, Van,” he spoke to me softly. “I guess I have some temper problems I need to work out.” Other than the little pressure being put by the chastity cage being stuck between my body and the floor, this was moment was purely blissful. The only other thing that made this moment was that I didn’t want to enjoy this. Ryan was seriously psychotic.
“I’m not used to people fighting me,” he told me. “Or really, I’m not really used to being in control at all. It’s a lot of pressure.” He let his fingers leave me and he got off me. I still didn’t turn my head towards him, but I heard him reach pull out a drawer. “This is something I wanted to save for later, but honestly I can’t wait.”