pueido - Tumblr blog

pueido · 2 years ago

Text

The New Life of P

Peter wasn’t at a high point in life. He guessed he was depressed but he would power through it - things would turn around soon, they just had to. He had recently finished his education and yet he was not able to find a job, he’d been to several interviews and sent out his CV to all kinds of organizations, but he had not yet struck any luck. On top of this it had been a very traumatic year with tragedy striking him and his family, which had left to an estrangement and he did not have any close relationship with them anymore. This left him feeling very isolated and lonely, which didn’t help with everything else going on. He had a date on his calendar of when he wouldn’t be able to pay the rent of his apartment anymore. Just thinking of the fact that this date crept ever nearer gave him fits of anxiety and a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. Most day he didn’t feel there was much to live for. He had come into a very miserable day-to-day routine. To relieve himself of these feelings and keep his mind on other things he’d resorted to his more or less usual hobby of watching porn and jerking of several times a day. It had been a bad habit that had started in his early teens. Over the years the type of porn had developed in a way that even he himself wasn’t sure he liked. In the beginning, it had been the normal softcore kind, blowjobs, fucking and generally good-looking guys being sexual together. Then he had explored the fetish and kinky kinds, and eventually he ended up in the realm of BDSM. This had become his obsession of the last few years. Leather, rubber, whipping, bondage, chastity, piercings, enslavement, objectification, serving a master. It turned him on like nothing else. Normal fucking scenes or blowjobs didn’t even make him aroused anymore, he was completely hooked on hardcore BDSM and would often fantasize of being in such a scene himself. As Peter was a closeted homosexual and a virgin this was therefore the world in which he lived out his sexuality. A world of, to him, unrealistic fantasies. He knew he would never experience such things himself. How could he? He was by now highly educated academic which would find his place in the world and live a perfectly respectable life. Little did he know that fantasies sometimes aren’t that far away. It was a humid and warm evening when Peter went out for one of his usual walks. He often took walks around the city, usually lasting an hour or two. He took one of his normal routes, which went through several parks and the outskirts of a small forest at the edge of the city. He was listening to the chirps of many birds up in the trees and craned his neck as he went, trying to spot some of them. His attention wasn’t focused on anything else. Perhaps this was the reason he didn’t see them coming. Completely unprepared a wooden bat struck the back of his head, and darkness engulfed him. He was completely unaware of the two men picking him up from the forest path and carrying him to their car. Unknowing of the fact that they restrained him in the back of the car. He didn’t experience any of the long drive, or the carrying of him into the large house and down the stairs. In fact, he didn’t take notice of anything at all for several hours, until he woke up, much later. His head hurt. He could feel a pressure on the back of his skull, something had hit him and he’d swollen up. What had happened? Where was he? He felt dizzy. Everything was a bit hazy. He had been out for a walk… and then… then what? With a jolt of fear Peter opened his eyes and the view of what was before him made him dizzy, he didn’t know where to look, and realizing his own predicament made him panic. The jolt of fear in his stomach felt like ice-cold liquid that spread throughout his body, numbing him. He felt himself starting to tremble and his gut caused unpleasant convulsions. His scalp became dewy with beads of sweat. He was in a very large room. A basement by the looks of it because where were no windows. But it was also much larger and had higher ceilings than was usual for a basement. But this was by far the least unusual thing about it. The floor was made from concrete and painted in a deep red. The walls were painted black, but this was hardly noticeable due to all the things that was attached to, hanging from or standing in front of them. Peter saw cages, stockades, whips, harnesses, rubber suits, gags, butt plugs, dildos, a fucking machine, manacles, shackles, leather belts, benches and medieval looking iron contraptions. In some places hooks and pulleys were attached in the ceiling and walls. There were also a great number of cupboards, all with their doors closed. At the far end, he saw a door that was open and seemed to lead to a corridor. And in the middle of the room there was a large sitting group of leather sofas and arm chairs, around a massive round table which seemed to be covered in a layer of shiny rubber. And in the biggest sofa, facing him from the other side of the table he saw them. Two men. The leather of the sofa creaked as they stood up and walked towards him. Peter understood what was going on. He had been kidnapped by these men and now they wanted to abuse him. But he didn’t want that. No. That was illegal. Fucking illegal. He hadn’t asked for this. He had to get out. Had to escape. He started to struggle but soon found that this was impossible. The men had stripped him naked and put a big ball gag in his mouth. Then they had attached leather cuffs to his wrists and ankles, each of which was locked by a padlock. The cuffs had then been attached to thick, steel wires that went to the ceiling and floor. Four steel wires each held a limb stretched out, keeping Peter in mid-air, hanging from his own wrists, in a great big cross. Not much movement was possible. Yet Peter tried. He flexed his fists, flexed the muscles of his entire body. Jerked his head in any direction he could. He tried to kick out. He screamed. He shrieked behind the gag but all that came out was muffled, incoherent nonsense. His wrists hurt. The struggling against the restraints caused burning due to friction. He started to cry as he looked into the eyes of the two men, trying to plead with them without words. The two men however did nothing. The quietly watched Peter struggle and panic himself into exhaustion, every now and then an evil grin flickered across their faces. When he finally stopped struggling and his entire body was drenched in sweat, drool dripping from his chin and he felt lightheaded from the adrenaline wearing off, one of the men spoke. “Hello, Peter”, said the man to the left. Through teary eyes Peter now started to take in their appearances, in spite of his fear and terror he couldn’t help but finding them breathtaking. The man who had just spoken was wearing leather pants, high leather boots, a leather vest and a leather police cap. He had leather armbands on both his upper arms and wrists. His nipples and septum were pierced and he sported a truly magnificent black beard. The other man, standing on the right simply wore a pair of latex or rubber leggings, short rubber boots and a pair of rubber gloves. Around his neck he had a thick metal chain, locked with a padlock. He had both his hair and beard trimmed short. Both of them had perfect physiques, and with their tanned, muscled bodies they looked like they might have just come from a fetish fashion show. “Good to see that you have calmed yourself down”, said the first man again. His voice was deep and a little hoarse. “- you seem to want to get out of there”, he continued. Peter answered by nodding his head as fast as he could up and down. Perhaps it was just a dream? He wanted to go home. He wanted out. His body was hurting. He sobbed behind the gag. “However…”, said the man again as the man on the right, the man in rubber, started to walk towards him. “- little P doesn’t seem to want that, now does it?” He leered. Peter looked down and saw that his cock was fully erect, and standing tall. But that wasn’t because he was turned on surely, simply a biproduct of the fact that his struggling and adrenaline had caused such high blood flow. The rubbered man reached him and took his cock in one of his rubbered hands and started to jerk him off, with slow hard motions. Peter couldn’t help himself. He stopped sobbing and a small, high-pitched moan escaped him. The rubbered man jerking his penis grinned slightly. He felt so confused. “You see, P, we have a… hm…. job proposition for you”, said the man in leather again and took a couple of steps towards him and staring him dead on in the eyes. Peter found his gaze extremely hard to face, and looked away, not able to keep looking into it. “- you see, we have monitored you for some time”, he continued and Peter looked back to him, not understanding what he meant. “We have been witnessing your internet activity for over a year now, including visited websites and search history. You really should make it harder for hackers to get into your computer, P”, he said and wagged his finger back and forth, making a tutting sound. “- and we found your internet activity to be interesting, to say the least. And we also know you are looking for a job.” Peter moaned again, the rubbered man who had been jerking him off had let go and had taken a firm grip around his balls and squeezed them hard, before then retreating and positioning himself again beside the other man who was doing all the talking. Peter couldn’t think straight, the shock, the pain and now the fact that he had been bugged confused him. He tried to just focus on continuing to listen. “You see, for a few years now we have been talking to expand our family, as it has just been the two of us. But not with a cat, or a dog or a fucking adopted kid to take care of, no… but a little slave boy, to give us pleasure, and in return”, he paused suddenly, grabbed the rubbered man’s head and forced it towards him and met him in a violent kiss that turned into making out. The two men made out violently for a few seconds while Peter watched. An involuntary moan escaped him again, which made the two men break apart and watch him. “- and in return, the slave gets to learn its place in the world, serving us.”, he finished. Peter just stared at them. They were insane, criminals, dangerous people, and yet… images from his memory seemed to flicker before his eyes, the scenes of rubber slaves, gimps and objects in various forms of bondage that served their masters, and he was reminded of the feeling of jealousy, of frustration, of thinking that ‘if only that could be me’. But that had just been fantasies. Things like that didn’t really happen. This was absolutely insane. “We don’t expect you to be able to answer immediately, so instead, let us give you a demonstration of the kinds of things we do here”, the leathered man said again, and then both of them began to move. For the next couple of minutes, they went about the room, collecting various toys and devices and brought them to the big table in the middle of the room. Peter’s arms, shoulders and back really started to hurt now from carrying his own bodyweight and he was still terrified of the situation, but less so than a minute ago, super horny thoughts had invaded his mind instead, and a small spark of excitement of what would happen to him kept the panic at bay. Also, if the men really had wanted to hurt him, they would already have done so. Sure - they had beaten him unconscious, but at least nothing worse had happened to him… yet. The rubbered man approached him with a box that rattled as he went. From within the box he fished up a small thing of leather, metal and chains. It was a parachute that he, kneeling in front of Peter, attached around his balls. He then proceeded to lift a few weighted metal balls from the box, each with a hook on it, and attached it to the chains under the parachute. Peter felt how a heavy weight now tugged his balls down. It hurt a bit, but mostly it felt good. He shuddered slightly. Not out of fear this time, but out of satisfaction. He liked the way the tug felt. Next a blindfold was placed over his eyes. The inside of the blindfold was completely black. He was blinded. He had to rely on his hearing to sense what was going on. The next thing he knew was something slimy, cold and hard forcing its way into his ass. It wouldn’t go in. Then he felt a hand whipping him hard on one of his butt cheeks, and he forced his anus to relax and accept the intrusion as he felt his ass burn with the red imprint of a hand. His cock twitched. As he closed his sphincter around the object he got goose bumps all over his body. It felt so good. He could hear the two men chuckling. Next, he felt how what must be clothespins started to be attached to various areas of his body, his arms, legs, torso, and finally his nipples. His sensations were changing now. The pain didn’t really feel as painful as before, being hornier seemed to stifle it somehow. His mind was now playing tricks on him. Instead of focusing on his predicament and aiding him in trying to get out of the situation it instead replayed similar situations in his mind’s eye, how he finally got to sense what the men in all those clips had sensed. He was inside his fantasy. The next thing that happened pushed this feeling even further. He felt how something was done to the parachute tugging at his balls and the butt plug that was intruding inside his tight ass. Then a tickling sensation started, jolts of electricity shot through his ass and balls in prickling jolts. He could never have imagined such a sensation. It was incredible. In his wildest dreams, he would never have though that anything could feel so good. Then his entire body shuddered and he whimpered as a riding crop slashed through the air and hit the head of his erect cock, which at the moment felt harder and more pumped up than it had ever done before. “Enjoying yourself, P?”, said one of the voices. Peter couldn’t answer but managed a bellowing, guttural sound from his throat. It wasn’t really an answer, more a reaction of the sudden stinging of his cockhead. The voices laughed. The whip slashed again, it burned his cockhead and shot waves of incredible sensations through his entire body. “Oh, you like the pain of that, do you, P? Quite the little pain pig, aren’t you, eh?”, said one of the voices. Peter didn’t answer. He was so horny he couldn’t think properly. He tried to thrust the air. His cock felt like it was about to explore. He had never been so horny in his entire life. The feeling was overwhelming, his entire guts seemed to be pressurized by the power of it. “Just imagine it, P”, said the voice and whipped him again. Peter groaned. “- living here with us. Serving us. Becoming a slave, a pig, an object, just like you always wanted.” The whip slashed again and Peter felt how the electricity in his ass and balls became more intense. “Being put in various forms of bondage”, continued the voice and whipped him again. “- sleep sacks, stockades, hogties, suspensions, predicaments, isolation boxes, cells, or just acting like a piece of furniture in our home until we are ready to use you.”, the whip hit him again. A hand grasped around his cock and started to jerk him off in slow, hard motions. “Drinking our piss, being fucked in the throat, licking our cum off of our boots, and being fucked in that slave hole of yours as we see fit.” The whip hit him again, but this time attacking the various clothespins on his body, forcing them off and clattering to the floor. The hand jerked him harder and faster, keeping him right on the edge, but not for long. “So, what do you say P? Does it sound like fun?” Peter had trouble following what the voice said. Its words and the stimulation of his entire body was overwhelming him. He couldn’t think straight. He just knew that he didn’t want it to end, he wanted more. Then several things happened at once. The clothespins on his nipples were whipped off, intense pain shot through his body. He felt like he was floating. Then the ball gag in his mouth was removed at the same time as the hand jerking him off started to do it fast and vigorously. He felt the churning sensation of ejaculation bubbling inside him. He was about to come. “What do you say, P?”, the voice said again. “Is this what you want?” Waves of pleasure came over him. Filled his entire being. Every fiber of his body shook. The leather restraints creaked and the weights hanging from his balls clanked as he tensed every muscle in his body. Peter screamed his answer so loudly that his voice cracked and become hoarse. He came in an incredibly explosion of cum, emptying his storage of cum like it had never been emptied before. Before his ejaculation had ended however, the voice had smilingly said “Excellent.”, and reached down to lift something up from behind him that he hadn’t seen. It was a tank with an attached gas mask piece that went over Peter’s mouth and nose. “Prepare to be transformed”, said the voice as Peter inhaled the odd smelling gases. He was then plunged into darkness once more and his body became limp. The two men set to work.

***

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Things didn’t feel right. Where was he? What was going on? He opened his eyes but his vision was blurry. As things came into focus he started to remember. The men. The kidnapping. The dungeon. Him becoming their slave. What had he done? He had said yes. What the HELL had he done? Fuck. FUCK. He started hyperventilating and his body felt like it was heating up rapidly. “Oh good morning, P”. Peter looked up and around him as his eyes acclimatized more to the light. He was still in the dungeon. And he was still gagged. Was it the morning after? Somehow, he felt like more timed had passed. An eerie feeling. Something definitely didn’t feel right. He had been dreaming. Loads. Lots of dreams. What had they been about? He couldn’t remember. It was all so confusing. He was still gagged. A large ball filled his mouth. And there were different things feeling odd with his body. There were pressures and weights in odd placed. His nose, his neck, his nipples, his cock, and his ass. And his head felt cold. What the fuck had happened? “Do you know what alopecia universalis is, P?”, asked the voice. Peter’s eyes focused on the two men. The bearded man with piercings was now wearing high leather boots and a leather body harness, stretching from his shoulders down to his crotch. His cock was fully erect and stood out of the built-in cock ring in the harness. He was jerking it off slowly. At the end he had a massive PA piercing. The second man stood to the right of him as before. But this time wearing a full rubber cat suit, stroking his cock with his open, rubbered hand on outside of the suit. “Do you?”, the voice asked again. Peter shook his head. What the hell was going on? He wasn’t horny anymore. He wanted out. He wanted to go home. But he couldn’t. He was standing on the ground, a spreader bar seemed to keep his feet apart, and his hands were fastened in cuffs that were stretched towards the ceiling. His gag seemed to be fastened to some kind of head harness that wouldn’t allow him to tilt his head up or down, but forced to stare straight forward, facing the men. “No? Well let me educate you, dear P. Alopecia universalis is a horrible autoimmune disorder, which is an extreme form of spot baldness. It causes a person’s follicles to be eradicated by its own body. And I mean all of it. The hair on your head, chest, arms, legs, around your genitalia, and even your eyebrows and eyelashes”. The man smiled. It was an evil thing. A leer. “The disorder is usually rare and seems to be hereditary. However. There are ways to induce it into healthy individuals. And this was the first modification we have done to you. You see, P. You have been sleeping for quite a long time. After you agreed to become our slave we put you into a medical coma, in order to transform you to a more suitable form before we start your training. And slaves are not allowed to have hair. Any hair. But having to shave the slave is really a bore, and we didn’t like that idea. So we found a more elegant solution. You don’t have a hair on your body left, and never will again.” The leathered man fell silent as the rubbered man went off to fetch something. What the fucking hell? A medical coma? Transformed? Never have hair again? He had no eyebrows? No eyelashes? He blinked his eyes. It felt different. Naked. He was in shock. He felt panic, sadness, terror and fear. But he was in shock. He didn’t seem to have enough substance to generate a reaction. He just kept staring. He felt empty. He saw the rubbered man return, pushing a full body mirror attached to a black wooden frame on wheels. It was turned away from Peter, so he couldn’t see himself. The rubbered man had also brought a rather large, hand-held mirror, which he handed to the leathered man who was doing all the talking. “And we have made several other modifications also, P. And we must thank you for your imagination. Your browser history was a huge source of inspiration. You’re a sick little fuck, you know that?”, the man laughed softly. “So let’s take a look, shall we?” The man approached him with the mirror held to his side, so Peter couldn’t yet see himself. What else had they done? “Slaves”, the man continued. “- don’t have human names, now do they, P?”, the man had reached him and stretched up his free hand and grasped Peter’s chin and forced his head back and forth. “Noo, that’s right, they don’t. So that’s why we have given you a new name, you will forget your old one, and now I will present you with your new one.” The man raised the mirror and Peter saw his own face in it. An ice cold feeling spread throughout his entire body. He was petrified. He was wearing a head harness, with a large, red ball gag invading his mouth. He had no hair at all. His scalp was completely naked and shiny. He had no eyebrows. No eyelashes. His nose was pierced. A septum piercing. It was large, a heavy, shiny metal ring was hanging from his nose. He looked completely different. Though these things were nothing in comparison to what they had done to his forehead. “Welcome into slavery, PIG, “said the man with powerful emphasis on the last word, smiling at Peter’s petrified gaze. “It is a bit medieval, I agree, but you did seem to find it hot, judging from your attempts to find pictures of it on the web, first we branded it into your forehead using hot irons, and then when it healed up, we filled the letters in by tattooing the scarred skin.” He looked transfixed at his forehead. In big, black letters, indented into his very skin of the forehead it spelled out ‘PIG’. He was ruined. Completely ruined. They had destroyed him. He would never be able to go out again. Never rejoin society. He started to cry. He sobbed and felt regret and fear as his vision become blurry with tears. He wanted to die. He didn’t want this. He wanted it to end. His life was ruined. What had he gotten himself into? He cried so hard that he gasped for breath through his nose, almost starting to cough. “Now, now, pig”, said the voice again, and a surprisingly gentle hand brushed away his tears so he could see properly again. “- cheer up, we have more things to show you!” He didn’t want to see anything else. He didn’t want to do anything else. He wanted out. He wanted to go home. He wanted this to never have happened. He yanked his restraint. He tried to scream. But he soon gave up. He couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t escape. The man stepped away from him. “You can’t see or feel it now”, the man continued, “but there’s a surprise waiting for you inside your mouth as well. As you are well aware of, your tongue is going to be one of the most important instruments for serving us. In order for you to be able to give us more pleasure, we decided to split it. Your tongue is now split in the middle, almost three inches deep. We also cut the web under it, allowing it to extend further.” He listened to the man as from a great distance. He registered the man’s words but couldn’t really process them. He wiggled around his tongue as much as he could in his mouth. It felt more loose than before. “And the collar you are wearing has been custom-made for your specifications.” He saw a round, shiny collar of hard metal around his neck, it was rather big and thick, but not too oversized. “And it is a true marvel of engineering”, the man continued. “-it has a built in shock unit, so that if the pig misbehaves we can use it to instill some discipline. And as you seem to love body modification so much we have also pierced your nipples”, the man continued and held the hand-held mirror a few steps away from the him so that he could see his torso. Two large piercings were set through his nipples. He also saw that his body had changed somewhat. “As you can see you have also lost some of that fat, making your features more defined. During the coma we were sure to give you various types of steroids to offset any muscle atrophy while still maintaining some weight loss, which has made your body look even hotter, don’t you think, pig?” He didn’t know what to think. He had visible abs, somehow, he was thin, but he had visible muscles. Despite his shock and terror, he felt a small pressure between his legs. “But now”, said the man and walked away from him and tossed the hand-held mirror on one of the leather arm chairs in the middle of the room. “- it’s time for the main attraction, are you ready pig?” The man went towards the full-length mirror and brought it closer and turned it around. The pig could now see its full body in the mirror. And what it saw behind its legs made it shriek in shock. He squealed behind his gag. “Calm down, pig!”, said the man. “It’s not as bad as you think, look at this”, he said and held up something metal. It was a curved barbell. But large. Very large. “This particular modification is entirely thanks to your inspiration, pig”, said the man and smiled. “As you know, slaves are to be kept in chastity at all times, little pig cocks aren’t meant to be erect, or to cum, but to be contained and remain under lock and key. However, a chastity device, just as with body hair, requires some upkeep. It needs cleaning and whatnot, and it might break. And it is not always effective in preventing erections. So we have given you this.” The man indicated the big barbell again. “We have stretched your urethra, and then made a small incision into it urethra just behind the ball sack, we then inserted this barbell like a sound into the head of the slave cock, and pushed the cock, with the barbell in it, as far into the body as possible, until the barbell came out through the new hole behind the balls. We then attached the second ball to the barbell, effectively locking the slave cock inside the body. And don’t worry, pig, we sealed the barbell with two-part epoxy, to make sure it won’t come loose. And how will you pee, you might ask? Well, that was a problem, indeed. So we made a new incision into the urethra, a bit further back, closer to your asshole. Two new holes for the slave. Isn’t that nice, pig?” The pig stared into the mirror. He could see his ball sack clearly. And above it, there was a metal ball barely protruding where his cock used to be. His entire cock was restrained inside the body, held there by a barbell that came out behind his balls. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Complete chastity. And above the metal ball, in a slight arc, ‘SLAVE’ had been tattooed in big black block letters. He moaned slightly and felt a pressure build up inside him. His cock was trying to become erect but couldn’t. The feeling of pressure was immense. It hurt. “Ah yes, the pig DOES like that, doesn’t it?”, said the leathered man and went forward and patted the pig on the cheek. “Good pig.” He couldn’t help it. The horniness of it all invaded his mind. It was taking over. The rubbered man started to move the mirror away. “Oh and one last thing, but it’s a bit hard to show at the moment, so we have this photo instead”, said the man and went to fetch a polaroid from the rubber-clad table in the middle of the dungeon. “We have decorated your slave ass a bit, to make things a bit easier and more fun”. He moaned as the man held up the polaroid and he saw what was on it. It was polaroid of his ass cheeks. And they had been tattooed. Each cheek had been tattooed with a large, black bullseye. “I’m sure you understand the purpose of that don’t you pig?”, said the man and went to put the polaroid back. He felt utterly confused. The last couple of minutes had been a roller coaster ride of emotion. Was he terrified or horny? Did he want out or did he want more? The horniness of what they had transformed him into came over him. It was a dream come true, but better. He was getting everything he had ever wanted but would never in entire lifetime had the courage to seek out. For now he was absorbed by the feeling of extreme horniness and the extreme pressure of his cock trying to get erect inside his body. “And now”, said the man who began to speak again as the rubbered man returned to his side. “- it’s time to begin your training, pig. The pig has so much to learn, how to serve, how to lick, how to pleasure us, we need to work on removing the pig’s gag reflex, the pig’s hole needs to be stretched, and the pig must learn how to wait for its masters. And that is the first lesson we are going to give the pig. We have to go away for a few hours, so we are going to put the pig in a more comfortable slave position while it has to wait for us.” The words only added to its crazed, horny state. During the next five minutes or so the pig had the head harness removed, his ball gag replaced with a gag consisting of a hollow tube, enabling it to breathe through its mouth and a snug rubber hood put over its head, obscuring its vision and blocking its nose. It all happened so quickly that there was no opportunity to try and communicate. Then its arms and legs were freed and four strong hands forced it down on its stomach. A boot held its head firmly in place, pressed against the concrete floor. It knew that any struggle was pointless and simply obeyed by staying limp. Then its limbs were brought together in a tight hogtie. The hogtie was then attached to a metal wire and the turning of a crank could be heard as the pig’s body was partly raised up from the floor, hanging from the hogtie. It’s elbows and knees no longer touched the floor, but only the middle part of its torso. “Comfortable, pig?”, said the man and trod on the pig’s balls which were sticking out from behind its ass on the floor. The pig moaned in pain. “Good pig”, the man said. Then the two men could be heard walking away, through the corridor on the other side of the dungeon, and then the sound of their boots ascending a staircase slowly faded away. Darkness. Silence. The pig was lying on the floor. It could feel its cock trying to get hard inside its body, a tight pressure. It could feel its muscles in its limbs being stretched out by the hogtie. It could feel its jaws being stretched out by the gag. It could feel its mouth starting to get dry by being forced to breathe without its nose. It could feel the piercings in its nipples dangling slightly as it tried to move. It could hear the panting of its own lungs. It could hear the creaking of its restraints. It could hear its own thoughts. They were running wild. A battle was taking place in its mind. The fear and terror it had felt only minutes ago was still there, but contained. Then there was the feeling of horniness, a warm feeling of enjoyment. Was this really what it wanted? To not have a normal life? To not be anyone? To simply exist to serve, to obey someone else? It didn’t even know the names of its captors. No responsibilities, only obeying orders. But this wasn’t the plan. All those years of preparations and education. All for nothing. But was there really a choice to be made? The hours went on as the pig’s inner battle of wills raged in its mind. Moments of enjoyment and moans of pleasure were replaced by moments of panic attacks and fear. Several times the pig hyperventilated itself into fainting. Its body was hurting. The strain of the hogtie was starting to take its toll. And as more time passed its conscious strain of thoughts simply seemed to evaporate, replaced by a state of simply being. Blissful oblivion in the silent darkness. But in the end, pain overtook it. Pain and hunger.

*** By the time its captors returned they found the pig sobbing in pain, exactly where they had left it. Not that it had any chance of moving. They walked towards it. The man who dressed in leather spoke to it again. “What’s the matter pig, missing us so much it’s crying?”, he said and stepped with his boot on the pig’s tattooed ass cheek. The pig moaned in pain between the sobs. It didn’t want this. The pain was too much. “But guess what, pig?”, the man said again. “We’ve decided the pig is going to be allowed to keep us company tonight. But first it’s time to feed the pig.” The next thing the pig knew something was attached to the gag in its mouth. It was a funnel attachment. The pig started to protest as much as it could as the warm liquid found its way down in its mouth. The taste was awful. Rancid. And yet the idea of it drinking its masters piss turned it out. Yet it struggled, moaned and jerked with its head. “Be still”, the man commanded and the pig felt its head being grabbed and held still. The two men then swapped positions and a second load of piss was emptied into the funnel. The pig coughed for air as it tried to swallow it all. There were moments of panic and asphyxiation when it struggled for air. “Good pig”, said the man again when both their bladders were emptied. “And we have one last surprise for you pig,” said the man and seemed to walk away. The pig could hear his steps on the floor walking away from it. “Pigs shouldn’t eat food and drink meant for normal humans”, the voice said as it came back and the pig felt as something was inserted to its ass. Then the man fiddled with the thing he had just inserted in the pig’s ass and the pig could feel it expand slightly. When it tried to push it out it found that it couldn’t. It was a locking ass plug. It was locked inside. It hurt a bit. Though nothing in comparison to the ache in the rest of its body. “- so we have come up with an elegant solution.”, continued the man and the pig could hear a pumping sound. It felt how the thing in its asses expanded even more and how it started to strain against its innards. It hurt even more now. “This is no ordinary butt plug, pig, in fact, it is the nicest of all our gifts to the pig. It locks into place, it is inflatable to a certain degree, and it has a hollow opening throughout. Ordinarily a rod will be placed inside and it will be just like any other butt plug. But for the rest of the pig’s life it will be removed twice a day.”, the man continued and walked away. The pig could hear the footsteps and the clanking and fiddling with something. It hadn’t understood what the man meant. Removed twice a day? It couldn’t help liking the feeling of the plug filling it up. It gave the pig a certain feeling of being content. Then it could feel something being done to the plug, and then the rushing and unpleasant sensation of a cold liquid flowing through its ass and into its gut. “We are now feeding the pig with the pig’s specially prepared soup, consisting of various nutrients a pig needs, which will be absorbed by the pig’s intestines”, said the man as the liquid continued to flow. The pig felt his stomach being filled and it felt bloated. “Then we simply plug it up. Let the soup be absorbed. And then we can empty the pig and clean it with an enema. Though most will come out as piss of course, with it being a liquid”, continued the voice. The pig felt its hood being torn off. As its eyes began to focus they quickly found the eyes of its master. The master knelt and grabbed the pig’s chin in its hand and stared at it. “You will never eat again, pig. It’s only piss, spit and cum for you now, understand?”, the man said in a threatful voice. The pig was in shock. It nodded with its sore neck. “Good pig”, the man whispered in a husky voice and stood up. “And now we are going to prepare for our evening with our new pet, we will be back soon, pig!”, said the man and the pig could see them both walk away. It was in shock. It could feel the rancid taste of piss in its mouth. It would never eat again. It would only be allowed to consume piss and cum? That wasn’t humane. Nothing of this was. It was all absurd. The pig let out a fain moan. It was so horny. A while later the pig’s masters returned and let it down from the hogtie. The pig moaned of pleasure and relief this meant for its tortured limbs. It was a heavenly feeling. It felt so light. It was amazing. Its heavy gut slushed with the liquid inside as it moved. A blindfold was the placed over its eyes, and its hands was tied behind its back. The pig was then led by its masters across the floor, through the corridor and up a staircase. It was then led into its master’s TV room, unknowing of this since it couldn’t see anything and nothing was making any noise. The room had been prepared for the pig’s arrival. In front of the sofa, where a coffee table would have normally stood, a stockade had been placed. The pig was forced down and locked into it. It’s neck, wrists and ankles were locked into it so that the pig was standing on its forearms and shins. Then the funnel was again attached to the gag. Then the pig felt as something was inserted into its body behind its asshole. It was a catheter, inserted into the new incision made in its urethra and led into its bladder. The catheter was then attached inside the funnel attached to the gag, so that the pig would have to recycle its own piss. “Guess what pig”, the man said. “You are being given a big treat tonight as part of our welcome of you as our slave, you are going to be our footstool for the evening.” The pig moaned. “But we are also disappointed that the pig wasn’t more grateful of its transformation, so we are also going to be giving the pig its first punishment”, continued the man. “This”, said the man and rattled something. “- is ground up rose hip fruits, is the pig familiar with rose hip?”, asked the man. The pig shook its head. “Well the pig should know that it is a very delicious fruit, however, there are fine hairs inside the fruit that make for the most excellent itching powder.” The next thing the pig knew something was being smeared and massaged on its ass cheeks by gloved hands. Within a minute his ass had begun to burn and itch, more extreme and severe like any itch it had ever felt before. It was pure agony. Then it felt as ear plugs was placed into its ears and how a pair of ear protectors was placed over them. The pig’s masters turned on the TV, fetched their beverages and sat down in the sofa. They both extended their legs and rested their boots on the pig’s back in front of them. The pig was moaning and whimpering. It was turning them on. They made out on the sofa. They loved their new family member. It was perfect. The pig wasn’t enjoying itself quite as much though it seemed. Its body was aching, its ass cheeks burning and itching, and it desperately wiggled around in the stockade trying to relieve some of the itchiness. The pressure of the liquid inside its gut combined with the piss it had drunk a while earlier caused pee to drizzle into its own mouth. Realizing that they were forcing it to recycle its own piss made it even hornier. It felt the weight of its master’s boots on its back. It felt so good not being isolated anymore. Then, suddenly, it felt a riding crop fall down on its ass with a hard blow. The moment of the impact relieved all the itchiness, if only for a second, and it longed to be whipped again. The sensation had been wonderful. It moaned and swallowed some more of its own piss. The pressure of its cock inside its body was driving it crazy. It had never been hornier. And the horniness had won. It didn’t want this moment to end. It was a pig, and it had never been happier.

2K notes · View notes

pueido · 4 years ago

Text

Discipline 4 Boys full videos

https://www.dropbox.com/s/c8tmuo921jhr2lb/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/22w34oqez63k1ww/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/vbznsjntd52lff9/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/iq7x5dv8mo8iyuq/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/8scxx2wcq9s8ht8/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/clnn5mcs2x49e6c/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/8p6aghry52il0er/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/mzzajohu4hc6bsa/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/wsrwejy8en2yzcx/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/5fjgjcp8qksp4vo/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/fnst8qr6mi8arqa/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/5lbyd0xkqd9ev18/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/t22jq7ostb25h25/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/sb0mw5xooppnd3o/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/bc1l2i7udbqn44b/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/krzjo6na1dpj6si/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/0z8f1o03k360k9s/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/79gqtbj65xsx6z0/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/i4r7t72wxgmnoei/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/0z8f1o03k360k9s/Disciplin… here are the T titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/lb4401o26yl41d3/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/1largyg63erpvll/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/6ly8zviiqrcz1gt/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/owd4noen2948dgn/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/pmftm2ikf0e6k6h/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hh24ufmohgv7mhp/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/m5g78osxt5iomsy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/kdus2t9t4fzo3xp/Disciplin… here are the S titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/5t8wm1tmg74ekh9/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/qyzrx8ynsxnnfcy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ylsvluvr8ksvf2k/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/o1ag1sl041sl1o7/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/mtepn4luuaueox1/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/yzj7ai0gj0hsald/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/5jqueutvzac7m88/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/9e7u8acbmsm4f6w/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/bemkis09446wiai/Disciplin… and the R titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/p6y0427qb1zgem0/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hkt25ptptgiyacy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/a5hlgfyu3uj9i7i/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/d1fck4am4dsioqk/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/v91bs3kviyubm94/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/furvnejhy0u64qk/Disciplin… The P titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/qamhduiy7p4atzr/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/gw7e6x0zr2c7nxu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/9cl0el37weo8zux/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/s1wambao5yy2f0d/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/cgzwi8qct18nuag/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/om0xcz6mbabtprj/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/pfrfu53j2vdw1zm/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/maqthgtxbhelzfi/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/8byvfqq9mvqfo72/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/qaz78gyydicy97c/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/s3xicehp81rc4bx/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/kt2eew3cgwf87xy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/dyw9xgu1j8wjmfs/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/r2oettrdu6wcfdq/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/2iafl6rnqvdzjhm/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/7j5ldvx3w3m6tlg/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/eg7ggox47lwcnat/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/eu1lcq43a2li1jg/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/gn3ky0crf17x5p0/Disciplin… the O titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/oa1wnqbcilv8w01/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/obq49aukj1sd4nz/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3jxhz1btuji03kt/Disciplin… the N titles" https://www.dropbox.com/s/szq7ev6pw4as8k8/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/addczidyzv0oky8/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/s48ehf045b6cpa6/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/vwse3zthj61e662/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/w0zlmui5airqveu/Disciplin… there’s a lot of M titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/gbqnetj7364u648/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/bucxmc41zj1g8ky/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/2ng3tr7g86rzyjg/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/4060zcb6xyrdmht/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/et9bpdkn63988dz/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/w559ut4eum8brsz/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/g1zyy59pndw8p3b/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/cbc7mqc710zpgaz/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/jptdfhpfgxv71a7/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/yjx6br057c5fjed/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/7b0q1h8yf3ovcpx/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/tn9hjy48aovt24y/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/frckrzamj239w41/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/lp8h6tkczi9os2a/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/2nrgkxvfe6aiqdo/Disciplin… this section is for titles beginning with L: https://www.dropbox.com/s/247i6wchlvai5gn/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/zha6s5agsr7wcnr/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/sl7twwrqyb6cgg4/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/pmx2szdjor0kg50/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/126d88z1da9h2dx/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hbnfwzjsvl8vu9j/Disciplin… this sections is for titles beginning with K: https://www.dropbox.com/s/qdinla92rlgfp5c/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3df031ztb43wfam/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/li26lgr4ff1ilio/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/7x11cbmb7hvw9jv/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3imbhodndedq8ss/Disciplin… we are now in the J titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/xzf7pc8ezubgev3/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/yo3qabdwwrv01zn/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/6rhvbo4g3vguyrz/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/e68uuccg4oqihl5/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ubvt562bnlifef0/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ei5twykz3f8pqfu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/r81dea79av38mxb/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/fvp38u2q68ftzks/Disciplin… the I titles are below: https://www.dropbox.com/s/u66to5i6ml18b1m/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/iozw0zhf4iuu0gk/Disciplin… H titles are below: https://www.dropbox.com/s/wtz14htdh3kc3xk/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/e0zmuyo5pelmehg/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/xdx6h5z7875d7zh/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3jtnz2jik7b19bx/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/aa5322xepj964sm/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/33z5illr3s3r9n5/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/s24r7lz98zeli4f/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hsh652fr7i8mpbu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ae93ytypglmygty/Disciplin… G titles below: https://www.dropbox.com/s/5nsp3qk5kjaeuyu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/fxpaa8ikj34dz7t/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/isipjqb0mpgnn5t/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/m6zzj6co3l7229v/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/usvw666f7w3775q/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ltr5h01rcpkw773/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/szc0t4mfd9xkd2l/Disciplin… Here are the F titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/qy3ytd6m73q2kjn/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/u33ivcih3f2tdvg/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3rc50yvjo65gad3/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/1nap3yzd2gz76zw/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/wns1ao4m95vqk6g/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/b8006qm5xsqx355/Disciplin… E titles… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ge6y5mkz4ysa8lu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/5y1j38p6r1ejb9c/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/tgqb43o4z9dzndy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/iu55psyv7tbz1ul/Disciplin… D titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/4btway9x80llsdb/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ed8hoimir5peuet/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/7cnc75d8wp33amq/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/4btway9x80llsdb/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ed8hoimir5peuet/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/7cnc75d8wp33amq/Disciplin… the C titles: https://www.dropbox.com/s/d7aixi6pwge2ou4/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/3utdctqm28dzf0g/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hwa99aldskr4p8n/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/a7expscg2x9pbr9/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/qn6ew4gyt1z5q7a/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/k90pkszetaldqu2/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/s9dtrozn35053vc/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/81eqivdpg3l1c9n/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/0ijtzhjlxi3hx00/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/jn7z3ln2oiqeqqd/Disciplin… B titles there’s no A https://www.dropbox.com/s/euy7sgzgytdb3jr/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/eb62488uuhmelhu/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/vyybpqosy50j6xc/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/sdtofgf7lpqe9u4/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/hwhhjxvmvfo37ua/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/uq6suv762kyggod/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/tcach6426zjunb5/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/8euepsuy3vl8yvj/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/zonntc9twfguvc3/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/ol8n9f2zlcdos5l/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/2i4mqjan0gobznn/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/tuucg367m4fxcu1/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/5dfg5z3qqw0ccf9/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/b1ouqqjtqrew2n8/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/taxvr3c61rlwwt3/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/wnvtgceh79k07hy/Disciplin… https://www.dropbox.com/s/rx4n1i2ncing1ud/Disciplin…

13K notes · View notes

pueido · 6 years ago

Text

How to make an awesome tapegag/tapemask.

Let me just say, that I’m sick of seeing one or two strips of tape over someone’s mouth in pictures. It’s cheap and it comes off easy. If you wrap it around their head and neck, even better, but neckhairs + tape = ouch.

Your materials will need to be 1 roll of Gorilla Tape, and then a roll of duct tape of your color. (I prefer silver).

Start with a blank face. Because of the use of Gorilla Tape, I’d advise shaving. I didn’t though, and I *did* pay for it a little bit.

Now, what you want to do is take a small strip of the gorilla tape, and rip it in half horizontally. We want to place one strip above and below the lips like so:

We do this for two reasons. The first is catch the sweat from the upper lip, and the second is to create a solid anchor point for sealing the mouth. Next, place two strips of the tape vertically, like so:

By doing this, we’ve framed the mouth area. This is highly advantageous, because it mitigates the effect of sweat and the ability to easily push the gag off. If you’re not going to stick something in the person’s mouth (I don’t prefer it), this way works nicely, because it prevents them from sliding their tongue out between their lips and working off the glue from the tape. This, in combination with the sweat from the upper lip and mustache area, can allow the gag to just come right off.

Instead, by doing it this way, when you place the final strip of tape over the mouth, it’s anchored to other pieces of tape, not skin, so trying to push off the tape with your tongue becomes harder because while you can work off the piece over your lips, the edges are attached to more tape instead of skin, and unaffected by the skin’s moisture, thus, increasing durability.

Once this is done, we can put away the gorilla tape. We don’t need it anymore. You can use it for the rest of the face if you want too though. I prefer it because of it’s thickness, weight, and resistance to moisture, but the tape is expensive, and I sometimes find myself on a budget. Anyway, the next step is to just add two or three more horizontal strips as follows:

Make sure that these pieces are longer than the tape underneath it. The goal is to cover a little more skin each time, to make it harder to get off, and to make the gag have more weight and tension on the face. It adds to that feeling of helplessness ;) Next, tear off a strip of tape. We want to run it from one cheek to the other, by running it down under the jaw and back up again, like so:

We do this to limit the movement of the jaw and “clench” it in place (make sure when you do this, do it tight!). Add another strip like this overlapping the first one, and then add a few more horizontal strips over those like so:

Once that’s done, the next step is to tear off a piece of tape, and then rip it in half horizontally/lengthwise. We want to place the two strips over the bridge of the nose like this:

This helps to further “anchor” the tapegag/facemask. When trying to move the jaw or facial muscles, the tape has a tendency to want to “pull” a little bit down. This is mitigated by doing this, and helps to pull the gag “up” a bit (however, it also does tend to pull on the skin under the eyes, so make sure not to put it toooo close to them). It also helps in the case of sweat from the upper lip loosening the gag a bit and it peeling off in that area by holding it down more. Add a few more strips horizontally, and then two vertical strips down either side of the nose like this:

And viola! You’ve got a solid, weighty, tape gag (that’s basically a face mask at this point!) that is sturdy, doesn’t pull on those sensitive neck hairs or hair on the head, keeps you quiet, and frames your nose nicely should some mild breathplay occur. All you need is a bag clip!

Or, for added security (or if you have one on hand), a head harness/muzzle can be placed overtop of this for extra secure, extra tight, “mmmmmph!” guaranteed fun!

(I placed some socks between the muzzle and my face to help cushion it a bit. The muzzle isn’t lined and it’s a bit rough on the edges. This way, it’s more comfy, and the cushion helps to evenly distribute the pressure when the straps are pulled tight! :D)

I hope you all enjoyed this little tutorial. This is just my preferred way of doing things (and having things done to me!) obviously, so you don’t have to follow it. But should you find yourself wanting something sturdy and a little more menacing when it comes to duct-tape, well, remember this! :)

9K notes · View notes

pueido · 6 years ago

Photo

6K notes · View notes

pueido · 6 years ago

Text

RUBBER, object

Rubber was made for dehumanation of slaves, and their conversion into objects.

Worn by an object, rubber hides much of what makes a human body, what makes it different from another human body. Of course, there are still differences in size, width or general shape, but a rubber-covered body looks like another rubber-covered body, they no longer have a real identity of their own. Without this human physical identity and personality, the slave loses part of its humanity and thus becomes an object. During its existence, the object will very rarely see itself in a mirror or it may eventualy glimpse its reflection somewhere. Despite the passage of time, when allowed to see, it will only see a human form without a face, without identity, expression or character and what it sees will never, ever change. This immutable image detaches it from the passing of time, cancels identity and the object will forget the image of itself and how it looked like before it was encased in its rubber skin. As soon as it is encased in rubber, a new identity of rubber object is created : it is just one thing, another possession of its Owner.

A rubber suit that completely covers an object is its skin…. The object feels the rubber all around it, it feels its pressure from all sides and its elastic pressure ; everything that its human skin felt before, all its senses of touch are completely modified. Always thick on an object, rubber has a numbing effect and some former human sensations disappear completely, becoming too weak to be felt. A slight breeze will cause no sensation, the passage of its rubbergloved hands on any surface or on its own rubbered body will no longer allow him to feel texture of anything it is in contact with, the outside temperature will be felt high or cold, never mild. Over time, with this permanent rubber, this lack of sensations will become the norm, changing the consciousness it had of its former environment and body. As it no longer feels things in a human way as it did before it was rubbered, its former humanity is taken away and its objectification increases every day, every hour, every minute.

An object in process is a slave who quickly or slowly -this depends on the Owner- loses its humanity, the image it had of itself disappears, the perception of its environment is modified and all this mainly because of this compulsory heavy rubber skin. When a human is engaged on the way to objectification, it must be aware that the loss of humanity and identity will be permanent this human may sometimes fear to lose control over himself, to collapse into pieces, to get lost : he is right to be afraid if its motivation and devotion to a Master are not absolute. But the rubber suit is a container for the object. It is there day and night, its embrace and physical presence are useful to remind that what the slave or object is experiencing is real, it is not a dream nor a nightmare. Rubber then became an omnipresent physical reminder of reality, it made it possible to define limits or an outline, it gave consistency to the object.

When a Master would hand his slave a thick, heavy black rubbersuit and tell it:“ put this on, slave, this is what you will wear permanently as My property. ”, it’s a most decisive moment. At this specific moment, the slave makes his last human decision, probably the most crucial of his life. The moment it had been waiting for so long is now here, it had imagined it in a thousand ways, from dream to nightmare, from the greatest desire to the greatest fear. it is completely naked in front of its Master and yet it is sweating. The heart knocks, past present and future intertwine in a furious moelestrom, it can’t follow any idea or thought. The suit is there right in front of him, the powerfull smell of the rubber bewitches it, penetrates its empty mind, this is absolutely not the first time it has worn rubber, so why is it so anxious? This suit is intimidating, it seems so heavy, so rigid, the black so deep. The idea of living rubber as a permanent constraint make it dizzy.

it will have to learn to move again because its rubber skin may cause it to overheat, or worse, the object could damage it. The slave committed itself to being transformed and to learning some time ago when it entered into the service of its Master. It knows that the rubber will definitely transform it this time. But the changes have already begun, so why fight? it will have the flexibility of rubber and will be part of it… The dizziness stops. It’s taking a step towards the rubber suit. The prospect of being locked in there without knowing when or if it will come out may make it hesitate. Time will soon become nothing more than an abstract notion, just like fear or envy. Without will and without rights, unlike human beings, it will be defined by rubber and the use made of it by its Owner. The slave already commited to separate itself from any material or spiritual possession. Today, it is naked in front of its Master, blank shaved head to toe, gagged, cock and balls locked up under the metal of its chastity, ass invaded by the huge plug…. it has already left much behind, it has prepared itself for this moment, this is only a step and it will continue to evolve. it has always expressed its need to be enslaved, enclosed in rubber, trained and modified and today it recognizes it more than ever. The heart is calming down.

it looks at the heavy thick rubber suit and it also sees the irons and chains cuffs waiting for it on the side. With the time spent in the service of his Master, it learned to love and hate them, to be part of the rigid steel enclosing it like an exoskeleton, to fight desperately against the weight and implacable rigidity. Sometimes too heavy, too rigid, too constraining, the truth is that, chained, immobilized, safely stored, it feels safe and free. At first, fetters and chains helped it to trust its Master by giving all power, they taught it endurance when it must move, even without the physical presence of its Master they are a constant reminder of its power over it. With the control of its senses and unable to move it has become much easier for it to surrender to the absolute control of his Master. As paradoxical as it may seem, its chains have made him free, free to give everything, free to accept its total objectification.

One last step, it is already enveloped by its smell but it can now touch the rubber, it contemplates a part of its future. it then looks at its Master. it remembers the meeting of two humans, its attraction for this charismatic but so calm and imposing Man. How their respective impulses and instincts guided them towards each other like two magnets. The One who could see that despite success and a full life, it had a need for meanings and also total abandonment . How He had helped it, with unfailing determination, to understand and transform itself despite its doubts. The One to whom it gave control by becoming its slave, its love becoming veneration for the One who had liberated it. How it had reassured the slave the first time it realized that there would be no return to the human being that it had been. The One, it worships for ever and to whom it simply answers: “Yes Master, it belongs to You”.

The rubber object cannot exist without its Master. At the crucial moment when it slips its feet and legs into the rubber, the object frees itself from its individuality and humanity for an existence of rubbered devotion and servitude to its Master and Owner, the rubber object gives itself body and soul. it doesn’t do this for it but only for its Master. The more the suit closes and the more its mind calms down. its past, its memories disappear, its fears and desires are silenced forever. it is not sad or happy. it only exists. it is only what it has prepared itself for: a property of its Master . it has only one purpose now: to serve and obey. The suit contains now only submission and abandonment. The moment the padlock slams when closing, the rubber object is in peace. it belongs to its Master, it is Master’s rubberobject, nothing else matters.

3K notes · View notes

pueido · 6 years ago

Text

Kept

A story written a long time ago by rubberpigobject but which was no longer readable in its entirety on Tumblr

———————————————————————–

Here’s a story that pig just wrote tonight. Amazing huh? Be forewarned that it’s kind of a long short story. Things finally worked out enough that pig had both the time, space and “proper motivation” to play with an idea it’s had for a while and it’s so excited about being able to write again after months of being either depressed or busy etc etc that pig is just posting it right the hell now without any further editing. It’s highly likely to be riddled with typos or grammatical nonsense but hey, sometimes art is messy!

And before pig forgets again, it wants to thank everyone for their kind words and support when pig was feeling low. It really was very much appreciated.

And now, here’s the show, er… story!

pig calls it “Kept”

The pig was covered completely in rubber, as it always was. No skin showing anywhere and its eyes were hidden by tinted goggles this day. The pig was never sure if it liked the goggles any more or less than viewing the world through the pin prick eye holes that was the other customary concealment of the pig. It was rare for the pig to be allowed to see unobstructed, it was almost always forced to see the world either through the tinted goggles, various levels of pin prick eye holes or frequently, just not at all.

Both the goggles and the pin pricks made it difficult for the pig to see without having to work for it but in different ways. The larger pin prick holes weren’t so bad but of course limited its peripheral vision and its ability to focus both eyes on anything within arm’s reach and the smaller holes were even worse. On occasion SIR would have the pig in a hood with a singular tiny hole in front of each eye which forced the pig most times to turn its head so that it could look at anything but with just one obscured eye at a time. But with the pin pricks, once the pig could find what it was looking at, it managed to work things out, but the goggles were like wearing dark sunglasses indoors most of the time and so anytime the pig found itself in less than full light, much of its world was hidden in the dark. Reading anything was just about impossible, not that the pig was allowed to read books at all but if it needed to read in order to operate even a simple knob or control, the pig often couldn’t see well enough to know what the labels were. It wasn’t entirely uncommon that the pig would struggle with a flashlight or move the object into better lighting somewhere just so it could operate it.

Today was one of those days where it knew it would be struggling to see at some point, hopefully they wouldn’t become fogged up at all. Usually that wasn’t the case but it happened enough that the pig found itself nearly blinded and useless because of it. But so far so good, everything was just a bit dark.

The pig was also subjected to a solid leather gag that filled its mouth completely and reached back far enough that occasionally the pig would actually struggle with the thing tickling the back of its throat. Naturally the gag was locked on like all the gear pig was kept in and since today’s gag was a solid one, it meant the pig wouldn’t be eating or drinking until sometime in the evening when its Owner would arrive home from work and eventually fed it. Usually after the Master had eaten Himself. The pig was often fed similar to the style of a canine, twice a day. Those were challenging days at times, depending on how hard the pig had to work those days but of course it never complained. How could it? it was always gagged and forbidden to speak except when directed to, the pig could only answer the questions its Owner put to it. Those were the only times the pig was actually able to use its voice and to form actual words, which were very rare indeed. The pig was an animal, an intelligent and unique animal, but still… an animal and SIR didn’t want to hear or need it to speak.

All morning long the rubber encased, gagged and visually obstructed pig shuffled around in the dungeon breathing heavily through its nose as it worked to clean up the space from the night before. SIR had a couple of guests that evening which resulted with a large amount of gear, toys and everything else spread out around the space. pig was usually both amused and dismayed at the gear explosions that followed a good scene and this particular gear explosion looked like the London Blitz. The pig had spent the evening locked in the smaller of the two cages it was kept in by its Owner so it was grateful to be able to move around today, even if it meant struggling with heavy shackles that held its feet so close together that it could only shuffle about two or three inches at a time.

The pig was used only as a prop for the evening, locked in a cramped and small cage that sat on top of a small platform. The platform was used so that when the pig’s head was locked through a hole in the door of the cage, its head and more importantly its mouth would be at the right height to be of use as a cock sucking machine and a urinal. But that night the pig was completely inside the cage, tucked into a fetal position on its knees until SIR finally finished with His guests and informed the pig that it could move around and relax for the night.

What that really meant though was laughable considering the fact that when the pig was in that cage, it was literally touched on all sides of its rubber encased body by the bars of the cage. “Moving around” meant a laboriously slow effort to shift itself around onto one side or the other which allowed just enough room to take the pressure off its knees and allow some blood to flow back into its feet. Try as it might, the pig could never manage to get itself onto its back in that tiny cage like it could in the larger cage. As it was, once on its side, it often chose to remain there no matter how much its body ached because the effort to get back onto its knees was so monumental. The pig would be exerting so much effort that it would find itself struggling to catch its breath since it couldn’t expand its torso enough to do so. It was just easier to stay on its side until it was released or instructed to suck it up and get on its knees again.

The pig both loved and hated that cage, often simultaneously. It was maddening. But for the moment it was glad to be free of it regardless of the work the pig was tasked with that day. It had taken hours of shuffling back and forth across the dungeon to put everything away, cleaning up the messes, wiping down the gear and all while its wrists were handcuffed in large bulky steel restraints and thin rubber fist mitts. The fist mitts were loose enough to allow the pig to manipulate its fingers enough to roughly grab objects when using both hands but not enough to fully extend its hands or fingers. On top of that (or inside actually) the pig was still wearing rubber gloves inside the fist mitts as well because as much as possible, the pig was never to feel skin touching skin, it must always feel and be trapped in rubber.

The thin rubber fist mitts allowed the pig just enough dexterity that by using both hands, it could pick up objects and handle them, but anything more detailed than that was impossible. Like using a key. SIR liked to keep the pig in a near constant state of struggling and suffering, not abuse by any means, but instead to ensure that everything the pig did had to be worked for and earned, its entire existence was designed so that it would be reminded at every opportunity that it wasn’t a human, it was a thing. A rubber encased captive, and every motion and movement of its body was to be met with resistance and bondage. Never knowing a moment of complete freedom, of just being able to move, stretch or touch anything without a layer of rubber between itself and the rest of the world. The pig was constantly reminded of its lowly state, of being an owned and controlled object with no rights, no freedom and not even any status. It all had the bizarre result of making the pig that much more devoted to its Owner. Everything that came from SIR was a gift, whether that was more bondage or just being able to simply wiggle its rubber gloved fingers independently. It all told the pig of its place in the world, where it belonged and what its purpose in life was: to serve, worship and obey its Master and Owner.

The pig didn’t have to, nor was it allowed to worry about anything else. In this most extreme bondage and captivity the pig found the ultimate freedom and even when it suffered, it was still always grateful to its Master. Even when He would leave the pig with the task of cleaning up a huge mess behind Him that the pig didn’t get to enjoy itself.

Winded and sweating heavily inside its rubberskin the pig carefully lowered itself to the floor and rested its back against the larger cage. it had finally returned the dungeon to its pristine state and needed a rest before continuing. The pig sat on the floor, even when it was alone because sitting on furniture was never allowed. Even if the dungeon wasn’t monitored with two security cameras the pig had been trained enough that if it were to break such a rule, it would feel so guilty and ashamed that it would have to confess its guilt to SIR. The hypnotic conditioning was a major part of that training and so if the pig did something it knew it shouldn’t do, it would be compelled to either find its Owner (if physically able to do so) and kneel beside Him until He eventually acknowledged the pig, or the pig would kneel in a specific corner of the dungeon to wait for SIR to find it.

Once the pig knelt in either place, it was unable to get up or otherwise move again until SIR released it. The pig became a statue through post hypnotic suggestion, trapped motionless until SIR released it and questioned it about its transgression at which time SIR would determine an appropriate consequence for the pig. This was rarely necessary as the pig only ever sought to please and obey its Owner but on extremely rare occasions the pig would have a moment of weakness which ultimately resulted in some form of correction. The last time was the worst as the pig was frozen as a kneeling statue for so long it pissed itself and when SIR released the pig, it collapsed on the floor in its own piss until it could eventually feel its feet and move its knees again. The pig hated failing its Master at all, even more so when the pig did anything it knew it shouldn’t so it did everything it could to avoid such situations. That is until it eventually succumbed to temptation in another moment of weakness starting the entire cycle all over again. At times the pig wondered if there wasn’t another post hypnotic suggestion at work that it wasn’t aware of which would eventually lead the pig down the wrong path. It wasn’t hard to imagine as the pig knew there were many post hypnotic suggestions in its head that it had no idea what they were or how many there were. SIR was deeply embedded in the both pig’s conscious thoughts and its sub-conscience firmware and the pig liked that fact. Or was it made to like it?

Once pig was ready to begin its next set of chores it climbed to its feet and shuffled over to the door of the dungeon which was locked. It was always locked unless SIR was in the dungeon Himself. Even at night when the pig was locked in its cage, or helplessly immobilizing bondage that door was locked with no other way out of the dungeon. There was so much redundancy around pig’s captivity and bondage that some people couldn’t get their heads around it, but SIR insisted and so did pig before its opinions were no longer required.

There was a doorbell next to the door, a small black box with a singular button that had an illuminated glowing blue ring around it. pig carefully lined up its knuckle inside one of the fist mitts and pressed the button which caused the blue ring to turn white indicating that the doorbell was contacting SIR. It was a smart doorbell which would send SIR an alert to His smartphone where He could view the pig through the doorbell’s camera and communicate with it. The doorbell was used as more than a doorbell though as the pig was instructed to use it to contact its Owner either if there were any problems or when the pig was ready for whatever next step there might be for its day or just training in general.

The pig stood waiting and simply stared at the glowing white ring waiting for it to turn blue again which indicated SIR was about to answer. It seemed to take a while before SIR answered which wasn’t unexpected since He was at work and couldn’t always take the time or the privacy required to talk to His animal through a smart doorbell app. Once the pig stood waiting at that doorbell for half an hour, later learning that SIR had been stuck in a meeting and once pig rang the doorbell it wasn’t allowed to stray, it had to wait for its Master.

Finally the ring around the doorbell changed from white to blue and SIR’S voice came through a small speaker which often excited the pig. “Ready to get on with the rest of your chores pig?” SIR asked.

The pig leaned in close to the doorbell (just to be safe) and grunted once, nice and loud to make sure He could hear it. The substantial gag locked in its pig mouth really did a good job at muffling the pig’s noises.

“Excellent pig” replied SIR “Pup made sure to get all the laundry done before it left for work so there should be plenty for the pig to work on. SIR has an event at work this evening so SIR won’t be home until late, and pup has a night out as well so pig should have plenty of time to finish its chores. Alright pig?”

“Mmph!”

A few moments later there was a small high pitched beep which the pig was only able to hear through its rubber hood by holding its breath and it watched as the electronic smart deadbolt turned in place, unlocking the door. The pig raised its manacled and rubbered paws and pushed the door open to reveal the stairs that led up to the rest of the house. The entire basement which spanned the breadth of the house had been converted to a dungeon and play space and all that was left outside the dungeon’s door was the staircase.

The pig shuffled to the bottommost stair and sighed a heavy breath, going up the stairs like this was a major effort. Down was easier as the pig could just sit on the stairs and slide its butt down to the next step, going up though required more effort, especially since its hands were closely handcuffed together, the pig couldn’t easily lift its butt up to the next step. The pig had learned that the only way it could effectively climb the stairs and not either kill or over exert itself, was to sit down basically side-saddle so that it could put its rubber fist-fitted and shackled hands on a step in order to lift its butt to the next step, bring its shackled feet up and start the process again. It wasn’t unusual for it to take the pig up to five minutes just to get to the top, it couldn’t remember the last time it was ever able to climb the stairs like a normal person. At best the chain between its ankles would only allow the pig to carefully put one foot on a step and bring the other one up to the same step before continuing to the next step. It was all just one of the hundreds of ways the pig’s life was structured to keep it submissive.

The sad thing though about this whole ordeal was that the washer and dryer were all the way up on the second floor in the Master bedroom. The pig had yet another, and longer set of stairs to contend with long before it could ever even start the process of folding the laundry and the pig always arrived at the top of those stairs winded and sweating. Since everything the pig did always required more effort, it wasn’t hard for the pig to break into a sweat inside its rubber skin and since today was going to be a long one with no food or water until sometime in the evening, the pig did its best to “climb” the stairs slowly enough that it didn’t overwork itself too much.

The entire time it was slowly and pathetically making its way up the stairs its mind bounced between ridiculous images and thoughts of being found dead on the stairs and what the police or others might think, and wondering just how much laundry was waiting for it. It had been a while since the pig needed to fold and put it away and it had no idea if pup had been taking care of it until now or if they were deliberately letting it pile up. When SIR would put the pig to chores or a task during the day while He was at work, SIR wasn’t usually concerned with the pig doing anything quickly. It was actually more important that the pig had to struggle and negotiate with it in order to do it well for its Master. The computer work wasn’t always treated the same way but most of the physically oriented tasks were. Sometimes the struggles like climbing the stairs to fold and put away the laundry would make pig grateful for the days that pig would be either left in the cage or even rigidly immobilized in the bondage chair for the ten or twelve hours its Owner would be at work. And then after a grueling bondage session of immobility like that, the pig was more than ready to start another struggling task for SIR. The pig basically lived in a never-ending bondage predicament.

Finally, after a ridiculously long time the pig finally made it up to the second floor and across the house to the Master bedroom and into the walk-in closet where the laundry was kept and the pig’s heart just sank. Not only did it look like practically every stitch of clothing had been washed and piled up, but there were also big items like towels and bedsheets. All this while the pig’s rubber gloved hands were locked inside thin rubber fist mitts and shackled together like handcuffs in thick heavy metal restraints. This was truly going to take all day. The pig shuffled far enough back to the bedroom to take a peek at the clock and saw that it was already past two o’clock and its heart sank even more. SIR usually left for work around ten and it took the pig longer than it realized to clean the basement and get upstairs. it tried telling itself that the silver lining of it all was that SIR said there was an event at His work in the evening which would keep Him later than usual, giving pig more time. Hopefully.

Nearly defeated before it even began, pig shuffled back into the walk-in closet and began to fumble with setting up a lightweight folding table that was kept in there for well… folding laundry.

The pig couldn’t help itself though. As it pinched a pair of pants between both hands and started laying them out on the table, the pig couldn’t remember the last time it had felt any fabric other than its own bath towel roughy every two weeks, and it often worried that the pig was never able to tell if any of it was still damp or not. pig couldn’t feel it one way or the other.

It was a laboriously slow process to fold laundry with just fist mitts on, needing to paw the fabric between both hands and contorting its entire body for each fold, but then to have its wrists shackled together with the heavy cuffs meant (from experience) that the pig’s back was going to be aching fiercely long before it finished folding just the clothes. Much less the despair-inducing sheets and towels. It all didn’t need to be perfect but a best effort still needed to be made. The only real saving grace was that when the pig was locked in fist mitts, it was forbidden to even try to iron SIR’S shirts.

Since the pig’s hands were cuffed together, it also meant that the pig wasn’t able to stack the laundry as it folded it because it would never be able to pick up the stack and get it to where it needed to go. That meant that once something was folded, pig had to slide it off the table in order to get its hands around it, and shuffle each individual item to where it needed to go. One round trip for every single piece of clothing. It was enough to make the pig want to cry but it knew if it gave in to pity and despair that the only thing would happen would be that its goggles would fog up and it wouldn’t be able to see well enough to finish this “one simple task”.

Try as it might to pace itself, the pig in its rubberskin was panting and sweating heavily and so nearly exhausted that it was beginning to stumble and lose its balance at times. The sun had gone down hours ago and the pig was so focused on its job that it never stopped to check the time. It’s legs were shaking and its back ached fiercely from its neck down but it had finally managed to get even the sheets folded. It didn’t all look very pretty and it bothered the pig that it couldn’t make it as nice as it would like but it was all done and in its place. The pig put the table away and began its journey back down to the front door after a quick pit stop to relive itself.

The most commonly required thing for the pig to do whenever it had completed its chores, and when it was mobile, was to then make sure it was kneeling and waiting in the entrance for SIR to arrive home. While the pig wasn’t required to be there immediately after completing its chores, there was little else for the pig to do to fill the time since it wasn’t allowed (nor able) to use anything like the computer or stereo and television was permanently off limits. If it was able and willing, the pig could volunteer more working but only just as long as that as well, was completed before SIR came home and the pig was kneeling waiting for SIR. The only time pig was never to be waiting for SIR at the front door in SOME kind of bondage, either self-imposed or just from what SIR left it in, was if the pig was physically unable to make it to the door, such as when it was locked in a cage or immobilized somewhere. So far pig had never missed that mark and it was one of the mistakes that pig was actually somewhat terrified to make, so usually if the pig had extra time, it would still just go and wait, kneeling at the door for its Owner to appear.

Since the time was so variable between when pig would start kneeling and SIR would come home, there was a specially designed kneeling seat for the pig to mount. It was on a small platform with wheels so that when the pig was confined to the seat, it could be easily relocated as often time SIR wouldn’t want to release it just to have it walk to SIR’S chair and begin kneeling again. The pig could just be rolled into place as needed. The seat was just a simple, padded seat about four inches deep and just wide enough for the pig’s butt. It was raised enough that the pig could slide its feet underneath the seat then sit back onto it. It had the effect of not blocking the blood flow to its feet and there was padding beneath the knees. At the point where the feet rested behind the pig, its ankles would be locked into place so that once seated and locked, the pig was unable to get up again until SIR unlocked it. Quite often, SIR would arrive home, look down at the pig, maybe smile and if the pig was very lucky SIR might pat it on the head before leaving the pig where it was while SIR settled in at home. Sometimes the pig would remain there staring at the door while SIR ate His dinner in the kitchen, other times the pig might be fortunate enough to be wheeled into the kitchen with SIR and allowed to watch as SIR ate His meal. Ultimately, the pig would be wheeled into either SIR’S office while He would work or play on His computer, or into the living room while SIR enjoyed some television or a movie for the evening. If the pig wasn’t blindfolded, it was turned to face SIR so it could watch SIR. If the pig couldn’t see, SIR would might turn it to face the television in an absurd head game for the pig as if to say “If SIR allowed it see, it would actually be able to watch the show” which of course, it never was.

The pig was often present while SIR was on the computer or watching the television serving as a footrest, as a side table holding SIR’S drink or snacks, or just as a place to rest SIR’S hand, but mostly just simply because SIR wanted His property around him, for no other reason than that.

At the moment though, the exhausted pig slowly and carefully maneuvered itself onto the kneeling seat and with a fair amount of struggling to reach behind itself to lock its ankles to the platform, all it really wanted once SIR arrived home, was for it to be allowed to lay down and maybe sleep a little. Well, maybe to drink some food and water too. That was then that the pig finally realized that it never looked at the time on its way to the front door, and even though it generally knew when SIR would arrive home after a work event, the pig had no idea how long it was going to have to sit there and wait. it chuckled to itself, or at least it thought it did as pig realized that it was perfect. One way or the other, the pig was always waiting for its Owner. For those brief moments in time when He would allow the pig to share a space with Him giving the pig the reason for its existence.

232 notes · View notes