Extended sentence - Time in the Chair

Author: mj217
Title: Extended sentence - Time in the Chair
Date: 10 January 2019

I was secured to a chair, a metal chair, it was hard, it was uncomfortable. I was still in the clothes I’d turned up in, that he’d told me to turn up in, desert army boots, jock, jeans, black polo shirt with the yellow stripes at the collar and arms.

He’d stopped me as soon as he’d shut the front door behind me. “condition of entry this time.” He held up some boot cuffs. It had been a while, I was horny, I agreed. I saw the next item as he bent down to fit the cuffs.

He got up and picked the item up from the stairs behind him, a bundle of dirty white canvas. “next condition of entry.” He unfurled the canvas straitjacket holding it open for me to put in my arms. It was obviously dirty and stained, it must have had a lot of wear. With it in front of me I caught the slight smell of it as well, sweat, and possibly, no probably, piss. I hesitated. “you can turn around and leave if you want, that’s ok, but I’m not taking off those cuffs. We both know what happened last time and yet you’re back. So you know the deal and this is a condition of entry.” I held out my arms and he pushed the jacket on before turning me round to do up the straps at the back, not tight, but snug, and starting at the collar and working his way down. “Spread your legs” he reached through to grab the crotch straps and secured them. “arms” I folded my arms and he again pulled the straps snug. “That’s better”, he grabbed the arm loop and gave a tug, “come on, follow me” and he pulled me in the direction of the lounge.

We stopped behind one of the chairs, and he picked up the leather collar that was on it. No buckles just slots cut at intervals and a metal post to push through to allow it to lock, either side there was a leather loop sticking up out of the collar. He positioned it above the jacket collar and secured it tight enough that I wasn’t easily going to forget it was on, next was a large red ball gag, threading the straps through the loops on the collar effectively making the gag and collar one unit, he pulled the gag tight and then I heard the click of the lock. I tried moving my head but the collar caused the gag to pull in my mouth and the movement it allowed was minimal.

While I was getting used to the gag he kicked my feet apart so they were the full width the boot cuff chain would allow, quickly following that with pushing me over so I was bent over the back of the chair his hand firmly on the back of my neck, with me bent at the waist, I grunted in surprise and reflexively tried to stand back up.
He was firm “no you stay there pig.”
I was looking directly at a pair of bandage scissors, which he leant over and picked up. Wait. Pig. He’d called me pig. Oh fuck, this was not going to be good. He’d promised it would just be an afternoon of bondage, something fun, that’s what we’d agreed on, that’s why I’d agreed to come back after last time when I’d ended up for so long in the cb, and spent repeated weekends forced into long hours of hard restraint. He was cutting at the back of my jeans, trying to cut them so he could get access.

“mmmpphh” I grunted, trying to stand back up, or shift away from his grip, but he’d obviously managed to cut a hole, he shifted moving his hand off my neck and putting his weight onto his forearm on my back so he could get at the hole he’d made with both hands, pulling at it with a sharp rip, giving access to my arse.

He leaned over so he was next to my ear “got to get you prepped right pig. Time to give you the treatment you need.” He pulled me up to standing and as I tried to struggle and pull away he grabbed hold firmly round one arm and pulled me towards the stairs.

He took me into one of the rooms where he had set up a metal chair and a screen. On the chair, duct taped in place and shiny with lube was a large butt plug. He dragged me over to the chair and began to try and force me down on to it, I locked my knees refusing to sit which earned me a hit in the balls immediately causing my knees to give slightly which was all he needed to start forcing me down onto the plug. The pressure from his hands on my shoulders and from the lubed up plug meant that eventually the plug started to find its place, as I was forced down lower and lower onto it until I got past the widest part and ended up sat on the chair, the plug fully in place and making it’s presence felt. As soon as I was down he was behind me tying a rope round the back d-ring of my collar and securing it tight to the back of the chair, knotting it and threading the rope back through the ring on the left of the collar, tying that off and using what was left to do the same on the right side. I couldn’t move my head from side to side because the collar was secured in place and it would pull sharply on the gag in my mouth. I couldn’t try and stand or move forward because that would tighten the collar around my neck. I was stuck on the chair and the plug was staying in place.

He was down at my boots roping them tight to either side of the chair, doing the same at the knees so my legs were spread and secured to the chair. Then he moved round to the back and started undoing the straitjacket straps and refixing them through the slats in the back of the chair and yanking them as tight as he could so that I was further secured to the chair by the jacket, doing the same with the arms and then roping them to the sides of the chair so I could barely move. Finally he came back round in front and started to undo my jeans, pulling out my balls and tying a rope around them pulling them down in their sack as much as he could and then pulling it tight and tying off the rope to the horizontal support between the chair legs. I was not getting off this chair.

“Look at me pig” He stood in front of me, between the chair and the screen, I struggled to look up at him, the ball gag pulling at my mouth. “I was pretty sure you’d come back pig” he said “the horniness gets to you eventually, things are always hornier in hindsight”
I tried to swallow some of the saliva that the ball gag was creating but couldn’t. He put one hand under my chin lifting and keeping my head up and looking at him, the gag pulling back at my mouth. He reached around with his other hand and got hold of the end on the jacket collar strap which was still only loosely secured.
“I liked that you were out of your depth, it made it so much better. If I train you too often you might get used to being pig and I don’t want that.”
A knot started to form in my stomach. He slowly started to pull at the collar strap, it tightened a small amount.
“But at the same time, I want you to crave more, to need to come back.”
I didn’t like where this was going, I tried to sink into the chair. He continued slowly pulling on the strap, it was still comfortable but getting tighter.
“So I’m going to experiment on you, mess with your head, make sure that deep deep down even though you may be hating the experience, you need more, that you need to be my pig, and so you will always eventually return. I’m going to condition this in to you.” All through this he was watching my expression, watching me absorb my situation, the collar was tight now, noticeably so, and uncomfortable.
I tried to gurgle a reply and I felt a string of drool run down from my gag. I let out a whimper. He let go of the strap.

He turned to the desk the screen was on picking up some ear buds and putting one in each ear taping over them to ensure they stayed in place plugging them in to an old looking ipod which he taped to my arm secure in place so that there was enough wire on the earphones that even if I could move my head I couldn’t pull the connecting wire out of the socket. He went behind me and a couple of seconds later was stretching a Russian gas mask over my head, my breathing getting louder in my head. He started screwing in a tube to the front of the mask.

“I figure your lenses will probably mist up pig, what with how long you’re staying like that, and the drool your gag is making.” He showed me the end of the tube, it was partially taped up. “I’ve made sure you have to concentrate on your breathing, it will make the words go in better.” It was something I noticed immediately, having to work just that little bit harder to pull in the air, still getting enough but making sure that each breath was a slow, measured one. He started to stuff the tube down the front of my straitjacket. “especially as you won’t be getting any fresh air.” I could smell the stale air from the jacket, the sweat mixed with piss, unavoidable with each breath.
Another whimper.
“So while you can still see through that mask I’ve got something for you to watch, and I’ve also made a nice audio file for you to listen to, everything will just keep looping until I turn it off. So even if your mask does mist up you’ll still be able to hear the audio looping round and round, knowing it’s lodging itself in your head, and there’s no way for you to stop it.”
“MMPPHH!” “MMMMPPPHHHH!” I desperately tried to make some intelligible noise around my gag. I tried to fight against the jacket, to escape the chair, but it just pulled on my balls and shifted the plug uncomfortably. “MMPPHHH!” my grunt was half strangled as the leather collar tightened as I pulled against it. He ignored me, turning to the screen and clicking the mouse a few times. He moved out of the way so I could see it. Colours and shapes repeating their pattern and every so often for a split second a word or picture flashing on the screen barely long enough to understand it. I continued to try and struggle, but there was no way I could win.
“I think we need to help give you a push” he said, holding a bottle of poppers in front of me so I could see, and he felt to find where the end of the mask hose was under the jacket and dropped a few drops of poppers on the surface of the jacket. A few seconds later I caught the slight smell, not strong, but enough to have a small effect. The smell lingered, a small continuing dose, not enough to overpower, just enough to work. My struggles lessened, my brain started to quieten down, slowly but surely, with each breath, the faint smell of the poppers mixed with the sweat and the piss, and the exertion of the struggle, and I began to lose the fight.
“Good pig” he stroked my head
It was too much effort to struggle any more, I just stared in front of me, the screen the only thing in view flashing up its words and pictures.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” I felt the ear defenders go on and felt him push the button on the ipod. I heard static, sharp scratchy static, and a droning noise, constant, mechanical, pulsing over the static, filling my hearing and shifting from side to side with the stereo. It was a noise that told me I was to dread this. It wasn’t supposed to be a nice experience.

I was secured to a chair, a metal chair, it was hard, it was uncomfortable. I was still in the clothes I’d turned up in, that he’d told me to turn up in, desert army boots, jock, jeans, black polo shirt with the yellow stripes at the collar and arms. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t escape, and as he clicked off the light, leaving me in the glow of the screen, alongside the static and the drone, his words began to fill my head.