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I strip him, putting his tee-shirt and jeans outside the door, then I move his limbs so that he is in a spread-eagled position and fasten his wrists and ankles to the table with heavy leather restraints. I push a cock-shaped gag between his teeth and strap it behind his head, then consider - should I blindfold him now? It would be good for him to wake up hooded, not being able to see where he was, who had got him - it would make him very afraid indeed. On the other hand, what would he see? With the bright overhead spotlight shining straight down on him not much of the rest of the room will be visible to him, and his first sight will be me - a figure in skin-tight shiny black rubber jeans, bike boots, long black rubber gloves, studs and chains, a leather body harness and a long black leather executioner's mask -standing over him. That appeals to me more than having him wake up blindfolded. I pull on the mask and wait, playing with my hardening cock through the stretchy black rubber. His breathing changes rhythm - he's coming to. He inhales deeply once, opens his eyes, then squints them half-closed again against the bright light. He moves experimentally, realizes he is strapped down and, paradoxically, tries to sit up. I suppose that roughly translates as 'What the fuck.?'. I remain silent, continuing to squeeze my now fully erect cock through my shiny jeans. "Mmmmmmmmffffff!!" His eyes are open now, wild and staring.
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"That's it - try to move," I say quietly, smiling behind the mask. And you'll be doing a lot of that before long." "You're strapped down, but I like to see a boy struggle. He doesn't try to reply, realizing it's useless with the rubber gag filling his mouth.
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"I suppose you want to ask a lot of questions, like 'where am I', or 'who are you', or 'why am I here', or 'what are you going to do to me?' Is that right?" I move closer, and squeeze the shaft of my cock so he can see the steel-hard outline of it beneath the stretchy black rubber. He stares at my bulging crotch for a few moments without reacting, then looks at me and finally nods. You are in a torture chamber - doesn't matter where. You are here because you're straight and I fancy you and I kidnapped you. As to what I'm going to do to you - I am going to torture you. He begins to struggle hard, raising his back off the padded table and pulling at the restraints. He really does have a limited vocabulary. His body is firm, young and strong - a swimmer's build - tanned and hard. My cock is jerking frequently under the rubber and I can't help squeezing it now and then.
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"There is absolutely no point in struggling, although I do enjoy seeing a boy writhing in his restraints, and please feel free to shout or scream all you want - there are no neighbours here, and you're gagged anyway. I take a large glass jar down from a shelf and open it. It contains a strange-looking gunk - a thick, light blue gel which seems to sparkle cloudily in the light. It is, in fact, a suspension of glass fibres in lube. It has taken me years to perfect, and causes the most intense itching you can imagine.Ĭarefully I put the jar down, and plunge my rubber-gloved hand into it, taking a fistful of the gel.
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I hold it up and approach the helpless boy slowly. He is staring at me with terror in his eyes, having no idea what the stuff is. With my left hand I massage his cock - I am expert in this - and it begins to harden slowly in spite of his fear.