Writers Curse - the next chapter

Author: kinkyaussieboi
Title: Writer's Curse - the next chapter
Date: 11 August 2019

Writer's Curse - the next chapter

For the most part, I am kept inside this concrete cell, cocooned in the rubber suit that would remain on me for the majority of my year of punishment. However, on rare occasions John - the man who is keeping me like this and who demands regular stories be written and published as reparations for my failure to complete stories I started in the past - releases me in order to be of service at a number of fetish events he organises each month. While I know you're immediately thinking how lucky I am - and I suppose I am fortunate to finally be living the fantasy - I assure you that I truly cannot say whether I would agree to what I am about to describe, if I had a choice. But days of choosing, choosing my breakfast, my clothes, or the guys I hook up with from any number of apps, are over. Well, at least until my sentence is served and that is still months' away.

The latest night organised was to be a special one since it started off a long weekend of rolling kink events. And while I would naturally not be partaking in any of the weekend festivities, I was invited to attend the Thursday night Welcomes Drinks. 'Invited' is perhaps the wrong word; John informed me that afternoon that his friend had come through with a special item and that I would be needed to complete its full potential. The casual way he mentioned it had me both intrigued and nervous as whenever he was planning something torturous he would introduce it with little fanfare. Nothing more would be said of it until later than the day when it was time for me to prep for the night ahead. After my daily shave and tooth care - yes, even gimps need to look after their skin and teeth - I exited the bathroom and into the changing space just outside my cell only to be confronted by what honestly was an insanely horny, yet discomforting sight.

"Time to get changed," he said as he displayed the heavy yellow and black rubber drysuit in his hands. "We need to have you set up by around 6pm so we can test everything ahead of the night."

I took the suit from him, almost dropping it as the weight caught me by surprise. It had to be at least 5 kilos of rubber! The wobbling sound of the suit as I began to pull aside the open zipped parts was almost hypnotic and the intensity of the smell had me gagging to cum, a sensation denied to me for quite some time. The inside of the suit had already been pre-lubed with what appeared to be a special mixture that had the consistency of the type required for effective fisting (I'll save how I know that for another story). It was all very simple from here: slip into the suit, get zipped up, and face the music.

Getting inside the suit was painful, my uncut cut almost tearing out of its skin and shattering the chastity encasing it from the zillion horny thoughts that were erupting throughout my sex-craved mind. There was a whole lot more to the suit than initially observed. The rubber was thick, there was a built in hollow dildo sheath that took a long time to adjust, and the hands ended in padded rubber mitts that meant I was truly fucked unless someone let me out. Of course John would release me; it isn't actually practical to live in rubber forever, no matter how that weirdly excites me (while also scaring me just a little more).

But this suit was certainly designed for long term use and the crowning feature was the attached mirrored fireman style gas mask. Well, it looked like a regular gas mask and it certainly did the job of a gas mask, but the breathing apparatus was off to the side and at the front were three joined thick rubber tubes which taped off into rubber straws connected to a solid mouth guard piece. Given the colour of the suit, it was pretty obvious what I was in for and naturally it disgusted me but also caused a treacle of cum to edge its way out of my erect cock, struggling in its imprisonment beneath the chastity I always wear and the heavy rubber I was now wearing.

"Open wide, gimp. We need to get this fitted right otherwise you won't last the distance," said John, as he began to insert the mouthguard and fiddled with the gas mask. "Can't have a house party if the plumbing's not installed."

And there was the confirmation, not that I really needed it given the gear I was being sealed into. A urinal. A piss unit. That's what I was to be for John and the other guests at the event. Although still getting used to the fact, I'd drunk piss plenty of times by this point as John fed me pretty regularly since my captivity, but I admit that I was nervous about struggling with handling too much at once, like I would drown in it or something. But John wouldn't let that happen to me. No, he wants me around so I can serve my sentence (and just so you know, it has taken me a week of typing hours every day just to arrive at this point so I hope you're enjoying yourself with your hand so freely clasped around your cock).

As my teeth began to sink into the mouthguard, I noticed it kept my jaw ajar enough for the tubes to release whatever liquid came through onto my tongue and down my throat. Standing in the thick piss suit (I guess that's the best term for it), John now edged the gas mask hood over my head, the mirrored lens on the outside deceptive in that from the inside all I could see was shadows. The zip was pulled down the back and connected to an upwards zip, both of which were seemingly locked together judging by the distinctive clicking sound.

"Right, let's take a look at you all suited up. Oh yes, you will do nicely. It's just a pity nobody will actually see you like this."

John's boast confused me. I failed at this moment to understand how anyone could miss a gimp in a thick black and yellow piss suit, especially if I was going to be put to use on bathroom duty all night. Well, a short trip later in the back of a van that I assume was driven by some people John knows, I found out exactly what he meant by his words. Now what I am about to describe I only know from the video John took as two of his friends secured me for the event. However, the feelings are very much my observations from the moment.

It was the stuff of pure wankery that I was secured into for the night. On the exterior it looked like a huge metal box half sunken into the ground, with a slightly reclined chair built into the interior. Set down on the chair, I gradually slid onto a rather solid and girthy dildo that protruded from a recessed section from the bottom. The two friends secured my neck, arms and legs to the straps coming off the sides of the inside wall, never failing to rub their hands all over me, the thick rubber rippling ever so slightly as a consequence. There'd be no way to escape this situation, but I'll admit the chair, despite the dildo, was comfortable at this point and sitting down isn't the worst position to be kept. Like any anal toy, the hole eventually gets used to it.

The tubes were connected to ones that came out of the part of the box that would close on top of me and which would presumably act as a conduit for the gallons of piss I'd be forced to consume through the night. My gas mask breathing tube was connected to a long hose separate to the others, providing me with fresh air for the duration.

"Okay. So here's how this all works. You're inside for tonight and we'll see about longer. It's going to get very dark and isolated for you but we have a camera that's monitoring you so if it gets too much we'll know. Now, grunt if you understand and accept," John remarked.

Before I could make a sound of my own volition, the dildo inside me burst into the upper reaches of my anus as the fuck machine beneath the seat whirred into action. My grunt turned into a succession of involuntary grunts and jets of cum speared out of my cock, the truly horrifying fact of which was not lost on me since we hadn't even started the scene and I'd already dropped a load that had certainly emptied me for some time!

"Hah, he jizzed himself," said one of the men who had restrained me to the chair.

"That's his problem," said John, no doubt with a smile. "Right, let's close this up and get ready for the night's action. I have a new guy coming tonight who we're putting in the inflatable sleep sack and we need to get that ready by the time he shows up."

With that, the lid was closed and bolted down, locks secured. I was indeed plunged into darkness (not that I could see beyond shadows in the first place) and all I was left with was the my breathing tube struggling to make a whisper of a whistle against the hydraulic movements of the fuck machine, which was really doing a job on my arse, the feeling intensified by the fact I'd recently deposited what felt like a litre of cum into my suit. Moaning with agonising pleasure would be an understatement and if this was all that was to happen tonight, I suppose it wouldn't have been the worst thing. Yes, this is what I have become and you would too if you found yourself in the same situation (but be grateful you're safe and sound in your bed or on the couch, possibly ready to blow if the torment of guys like me gets you off).

But we all know that plenty more was to happen. It wouldn't be worth telling the story otherwise. I wasn't sealed in a black and yellow suit, tubes protruding from several urinals atop a box leading into my mouth, for nothing. And just as I began to get used to the rhythm of the dildo and sink into the chair the machine suddenly stopped. Seconds later the air coming through the gas mask tube changed to a familiar odour and before it overcome me I acknowledge that it was still some time until they required my services.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. So sweet and blank out.