The Wetsuit part 4

Author: indisciplined
Title: The Wetsuit, part 4
Date: 07 March 2012

The black leather chair was situated about a meter in front of the table on which Dr Smith sat. Sitting in it, as ordered, I faced Smith directly. I could get a good look at how he now dressed. Skintight black leather jeans tucked in to black knee-length rising boots. A tight fitting black cotton shirt with a black leather tie, and the white lab coat over the top. Skintight black leather-gloved hands, with the remote in one of them.

“Legs wide apart, boy, Rest your arms on the arms of the chair.” I obeyed without comment. I wondered if I could lunge over there, and knock the remote out of his hand. Without that, he couldn’t control the wetsuit, or me. He was already pressing a couple of buttons and pointing it in my direction. I froze in expectation of what might happen to me know, but there was no pain. And not ticking.

“Right. Now, get out of that chair”.

I tried to stand, but found I couldn’t. In fact, I couldn’t move anything. My arms and legs, in fact every joint of my body that the wetsuit covered, sat motionless. I tried desperately to move, but my head and neck where the only parts of me to do so, whipping around, surveying my now motionless body. I strained, but nothing budged.

“A little biology lesson, Kiddo” said Smith “Your muscles only move because electrical signals from your brain tell them to. Right now, all such electrical messages are being bypassed via the fibre optics in the suit. So, nothing moving for you. Y’know, I’ve heard so many parents complain they can never get their kids to sit still. Really, it’s not hard to do.”

I tried to protest, but got another agonising shock for my trouble. “You can still feel pain though. I firmly believe young people shouldn’t speak unless they are spoken to. I’m old-fashioned like that”, Smith chuckled.

“I always like to turn the boy’s heads, though. And the muscles in your neck allow me to do just that.” I felt my neck muscle tense, forcing my head to point forward, then rotate downward, so my gaze came to rest on Smith’s tightly leathered crotch, before locking in position. “That’ll do” he chuckled.

“Now, this is our opportunity to get to know each other better. I’m just going to ask you a bunch of questions, and you’re going to answer. Just answer the questions straight away, don’t even think about them. Hesitate, and unfortunately you will get shocked. Nice clear answers, every one ending in ‘…Doctor Smith, Sir’, and there is no need for any further….discomfort. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Doctor Smith, Sir”, I responded, indignantly.

“Good, you’re finally getting it. We’ll work on that attitude of yours later, though. Now, let’s begin.”

The first questions were straightforward: Name, Date of Birth, where I was from, what I did for a living, where I had been staying in Cornwall. On that last one, I thought, maybe someone from the hostel will look for me, best to give a false answer. Big mistake. I was immediately hit by an agonising shock.

“Oh, another feature of the suit. You’ve heard of Polygraphs? They measure a subject’s physical reactions to ascertain if they are lying. Well, the suit functions in that way. And as soon as it detects a lie, you get punished. Wasn’t very nice of you, when we were having such a pleasant chat, was it? Now, where are you staying in Cornwall?”

I lied again, and was shocked again, this time, much harder. “This goes on as long as you want it to, but you can’t outsmart the suit. You can’t lie, you can’t move, you can’t resist. You’re not wearing it, it’s wearing you. Pain level will rack up on each successive lie. You’re not out pain setting 2. Out of 100. If you want to continue, that’s fine”

I told the truth. “Good. It will be easy to arrange to have you checked out of there, no questions asked. Now, how often do you masturbate?”

I glared indignantly and said nothing. The shock was far worse and more prolonged this time.

“Once a day, Doctor Smith SiAHHHHHHHH”, Shocked again. A lie.
“Do you need me to repeat the question?” asked Smith calmly

“Twice a Day, Doctor Smith, Sir. Sometimes more.”
“Better. Well, you are a healthy young lad, aren’t you?”

More embarrassing questions followed. How did I masturbate, how firmly did I grasp my cock, where did I like to touch myself whilst doing it, how long did it usually take, what kinds of pornography did I like. I’d learnt my lesson, I was exhausted physically and mentally, and not in the mood to be shocked again. He could have all the sordid details he wanted, the fucking pervert.

“Do you fantasise about women, men, or both?”
“Women, Doctor Smith Sir” I quickly responded. He may be enjoying torturing me, but I certainly did not enjoy being on the receiving end.
“Have you ever had a sexual experience with another male?”

I hesitated, and was inevitably shocked.
“Have you ever had a sexual experience with another male?” He repeated.
“Ye….yes, Doctor Smith, but that doesn’t not really count.”
“Just answer the questions. Tell me about this experience. How old were you. How was it with? You know what happens when you hesitate or try to lie, so don’t try either”.

I had no choice but to tell him. Once, when I was 18, I’d gone to a mate’s place just after school. We were just hanging out. Sexually frustrated like only 18 years lads who weren’t getting pussy can get. And talking about sex. Getting uncontrollably hard as only 18 years old can. And to relieve the tension, we just offered to jerk each other off. It was a one-off, adolescent thing. Me and my mate never spoke of it again.

And Smith was clearly enjoying the story. His leather gloved hand massaged his leather gloved crotch, and with no way to turn my gaze away, I was forced to watch. And Smith wanted to know more. Were we wearing school uniform: Yes. What did the uniform consist of: Grey trousers, white shirt, and tie. Was my friend handsome?: Yes. Was he fit? Did he do sport: Yes, Rugby. Did the uniform fit his body nicely….

And it was at this time that I started to feel a new sensation in the suit. A touch, like hands gently caressing my thighs, and up through the insides of my legs, over my nipples, and up through the shaft of my cock. Exactly the places I had told Smith I liked to touch myself when jerking off. All the time being forced to watch Smith rubbing himself through his tight leather jeans, his own cock becoming more visible.

“Answer the questions, boy” He barked. His questions kept coming: Where did I touch my friend? What did it feel like, holding another lads cock for the first time? Did we look at each other whilst doing it? How much did we undress? I had to keep answering, at the same time the sensations seemed to centre on every erogenous zone in my body, and intensify, becoming vibrations. Intense vibrations. Like the suit was learning from my reactions, using them to get me hopelessly turned on. And Smith didn’t stop. The quick fire questions that I had to answer about every aspect of my one-off encounter 4 years ago, keeping my mind in that moment, making it impossible to shift my concentration, with the only other stimulus being the sight of Smith pleasuring himself, as the automated sensations of the suit got me involuntarily, helplessly hard. I felt my foreskin peel back as the sensations hit my exposed head. I moaned as I kept answering Smith’s questions: How had my friend grasped my cock? Did I close my eyes? Did we kiss?

The sensations were no so powerful that I was moaning audibly, to the point where it was getting difficult to answer his questions. My cock was now rock hard, and much as I had no desire to entertain my captor, I so badly wanted to cum. And Smith’s excitement was obvious.

“Hard to talk now, boy? Well, your mouth has other uses. Time to be seen and not heard” I saw the remote come in to my restricted line of vision, and felt the muscles in my neck move, My mouth opened wide, and lodged open. Smith was already undoing his belt and fly, his rock hard cock emerging. I tried to say no, tried desperately to close my gaping wide mouth, but it was no good. Smith was soon ramming his cock down my throat, and there was nothing I could do about it.