Joes Tattoo Part 3

Author: SkinJameser
Title: Joe's Tattoo Part 3
Date: 10 March 2009

Part Three

Joe slept fitfully in his cell, never more than for a few minutes judging by how tired he felt when he resurfaced. He was cold, exhausted, humiliated and scared. His arms were killing him, stretched behind him as they were. And of course his piercings: they gave him the most bother. He could feel them throbbing, his body trying to eject them.

He must have dozed again; he suddenly snapped awake as he felt something like a bolt of electricity arc through his right nipple. As his eyes focused he let out an involuntary scream at the thing before him.

It was a person, a male, and he had obviously startled him too as the figure suddenly straightened up from over Joe, backing away slightly holding a bowl of something in one hand and a cotton ball in the other. Joe wondered if he was caught in a nightmare, the figure looked so freakish.

It was about 5’6” and was wearing a pair of rubber waders that reached to the top of his legs, and thick black rubber gloves covered his hands and arms up to his armpits. But the truly horrifying thing about this person was that his entire head was encased in a frightening rubber gas mask. To the mask a hose was attached which snaked down to it’s genitals. Or at least where they should have been. The hose had been attached over the guy’s penis, with some sort of plate arrangement at his groin that was held in place by a metal band that encircled his waist and around his crotch.

The figure looked bizarre, but there was something else strange about it. As much as Joe wanted to look away he couldn’t. Then he discovered what else was wierd. The guy had no ball sac. Joe’s eyes widened in fear. Dragging his eyes away from his genitals, he looked at the guy’s hairless chest. In four inch black lettering, stretching across and covering both nipples, the words “Flawed – One Nut” were tattooed. Joe stared in disbelief. Forcing himself, he looked in to the small plastic eye holes in the mask. Staring out of them were a pair of sorrowful eyes. Despite his own predicament, Joe still had enough sympathy to feel sorry for this frightening creature. ‘Is this what is going to happen to me?’ Joe thought miserably.

“Who are you?” Joe asked timidly when he eventually found his voice. His neck was killing him, raised as it was to look at the creature with the collar digging in, but he persevered.

The creature put the bowl and cotton ball delicately on the floor, and turned back to Joe. It raised it’s hands to it’s throat, and shook it’s head slowly.

Joe frowned. “Are you gagged?” he ventured.

The boy seemed to hesitate. He nodded, then slowly shook his head, and again pointed at his throat, waving his hands slowly.

Joe thought for a moment, then a horrible thought crept into his mind. He’d caught the tail end of a documentary on TV a while ago where these American dog owners, tired of their dogs barking all day, had removed their vocal cords.

“They removed your vocal cords?!” he cried incredulously.

The boy solemnly nodded. Joe felt like crying. If they’d butchered this boy that way, they could easily do the same to him.

He wanted to ask about the boy’s tattoo, but suspected he knew the answer. And the boy’s eyes stared so sorrowfully from their plexi-glass prison that he didn’t have the heart to ask.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked instead.

The boy reached for a small box that was attached to his waist belt. It had a wire leading to a black plastic box covering the boy’s useless throat. With great care due to the thick rubber gloves he was wearing, the boy pressed a couple of buttons. Suddenly the throat box burst into life, and the words “Cleaning your piercings” appeared in red letters.

“Oh,” was all Joe could reply.

The mute boy clipped the box back to his belt, the words fading from his throat box, and picked up the bowl and cotton ball. He gestured with them towards Joe.

As scared as he was by the rubber figure, Joe’s mods were throbbing, and the thought of any sort of relief was welcome. He nodded, and slumped his head back onto the hard bed, resting his exhausted neck.

The boy strode over to Joe, resting the bowl on the bed and started wiping the liquid over Joe’s nipples. Joe shuddered at the cool touch, but at least it seemed to be helping. He yelped when the rubber boy moved one of the rings. The rubber boy paused, but Joe told him to carry on. After his nipples came the ring through his nose, again causing Joe to yelp when it was rotated.

Eventually the rubber boy turned to Joe’s cock. Joe’s face flushed when he felt himself getting hard. The rubber boy didn’t seem to mind, and finished tending to the new PA, then turned his attention to Joe’s guiche.

After he’d finished cleaning Joe’s mods, the rubber boy placed the bowl and cotton ball on the floor, and unclipped his control box again. Typing a few buttons, the words “Do you need to urinate?” flashed up.

Now that Joe’s mind was free, temporarily at least, from the pain from his piercings, he realised that he was desperate for a piss. There was also the hope that the rubber boy would let him out of his uncomfortable bondage.

“Yeah, bursting.” Joe murmured.

The rubber boy nodded, unscrewed the hose attached to his genital plate, then grabbed Joe’s cock and shoved it in to the open end of the hose.

“You’re going to drink my piss?!” Joe cried. The rubber boy merely nodded, and seemed expectant.

Joe shook his head, this was just fucked up. But he was desperate, and saw no other option. It took several attempts and a lot of concentration, but eventually he managed to start peeing. Immediately he felt the rubber boy sucking, ensuring none of his piss flowed back down the tube. Joe’s eyes closed and his lips formed an O of pleasure. It actually felt good.

When he’d finished, and the slurping noises had stopped coming from the rubber boy’s hose, he took Joe’s cock out and re-connected it to the plate.

Again the rubber boy took his control box, and the words “Do you need to defecate?” appeared.

“Not if you’re gonna suck it though that hose!” Joe blurted.

The rubber boy shook his head, then knelt under Joe’s bed. Joe could feel something moving against his ass, then fresh air. The boy had opened a hatch in the bed, leaving Joe’s ass hanging free. The rubber boy positioned the bucket under the bed. Joe got the message.

Feeling utterly humiliated like he was a little boy again, Joe sighed, then squeezed. He managed to vent his bowels, feeling revolted by the smell and the noises he was making in the company of the boy.

When he was finished the rubber boy closed the hatch. Joe had been worried that he might also wipe his ass so was relieved, but was also disgusted that he could feel some shit still clinging to his ass.

The rubber boy turned back with a metal dog bowl full of some brown mashed up stuff. Grabbing a spoon he started feeding Joe. He felt utterly humiliated again, but unless he wanted to starve what else could he do? When Joe had finished eating the tasteless gruel the rubber boy placed a straw connected to a bottle of water into Joe’s mouth, which he sucked at greedily.

This was Joe’s routine for several days. He didn’t know how many, as there were no windows and the single light bulb was left on all of the time. Joe had nothing to do but lie and curse his fate in his lonely cell, the only company being the rubber boy once a day or so. He felt like he was some sort of invalid or idiot child, unable to do anything for himself. Occasionally the rubber boy would let Joe smoke a cigarette, but it was never often enough for Joe, and the constant need for one added to his torment, which no doubt was the intention.

One thing kept him going: his mates would rescue him. They had to.