Boys in Boxes, Chapter 3

Ian, Box 02

Ian had never been so nervous and exhilarated in his life. He'd never imagined the latex suit could feel so good against his skin, the lube allowing it to slide freely over him. "How do you feel," Sir asked. "Incredible," Ian huffed out, so turned on he could hardly form the word. "Let's get you in the chair and add some finishing touches.

He was nervous about the bondage chair but couldn't deny just how horny he was at the thought of it, to finally experience what he had seen online for years but never actually tried. His desire for it overwhelmed his fear of the unknown. With a guiding hand from Sir, he stepped up onto the platform and seated himself in the formidable chair. Sir then started working latex toe socks onto his feet. "It feels best when it covers your entire body," he said as he slid his fingers between Ian's toes, settling the socks into place. Ian shuddered at the feeling of latex so neatly engulfing each toe.

Next, a pair of latex gloves followed by spherical rubber fist mitts were worked over his hands. All that remained exposed was his head. Sir slowly lowered a hooded gas mask over him. As the gas mask descended, there was a probing at his mouth. He opened, allowing the built-in tube gag to slide in. It didn't touch his gag reflex but it was long and wide, stressing his jaw, sending his tongue probing to learn more. Zipping the hood down the back, latching its collar around his neck, he was now completely sealed, each breath coming with the sound of the gas mask's valves actuating. Ian had never been harder, his dick trapped in the suit's codpiece, begging for attention.

"Let's get you secured so you can't interfere with anything I want to get up to down here," Sir said playfully as he rubbed Ian's throbbing rubber codpiece. The next few minutes were a blur of straps going over his ankles, calves, thighs, upper thighs, wrists, forearms, upper arms, abdomen, and chest. A strict posture collar was strapped to his neck, followed by straps fixing it in place. Ian thought his dick would explode at any moment, throbbing into the codpiece, slick with precum. He couldn’t move a single inch and his vision was quickly blurring with condensation from his breath, not that it mattered much as Sir applied blindfolding lens covers to the mask, followed shortly by headphones blocking out all sound.

The gear and bondage was wildly more intense than Ian could have ever imagined and everything he could have ever asked for. The first pop of a codpiece snap was electric, his breathing quickened, he whimpered around the gag, attempting to thrust his immobilized hips forward. The gag suddenly inflated, then again. He yelped in surprise, not realizing the gag could inflate. It puffed up once, then twice more. Before he’d even had a chance to panic, Ian let out a frantic grunt, a pathetic sound escaping him, indicating he couldn’t take any more. The inflation stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief though his rubber-stuffed mouth. The remaining button snaps were popped, letting his rigid cock spring free of the codpiece. 

Sir started slowly, teasing Ian’s throbbing cock gently. He quickly ramped up to outright edging that left Ian drenched in a layer of sweat beneath his rubber, moaning into his overinflated gag, moaning through the valves of the gas mask, trapped in his own totally isolated world of white noise and darkness. Then, Sir started fitting his cock and balls with something new. A sleeve over his cock, rings added to his balls, and around the base. Then, there was a tingling sensation along his shaft. Something he’d never felt. Electricity unmistakably started flowing from his balls through his cock. His cock which was now in a slimy rubber tube. Ian felt the tube spring to life, mechanically jerking him off. He let out a moan telling a story of a whole new kind of desperation with one simple, pathetic sound.

The machine was going slowly, not exactly edging him, but certainly not letting him go soft anytime soon— especially not with the cock ring holding him hard, not with the electro making his dick buzz. He was so enthralled with his bondage and milking, so isolated from what was happening around him, that he jumped when the snaps for the nipple flaps were pulled. He’d long forgotten there were more openings on the suit. But that shock didn’t compare at all to the feeling of two pairs of hands starting to work on him. There’d never been a second person involved and he’d only consented to Sir. Ian tried to raise his confusion with Sir, grunting quizzically into the gag, but there was never any indication that anyone so much as heard his complaints.

The two sets of hands proceeded to attach something to his chest over each nipple. Suction was then applied, pulling his nipple up until it met a soft rubberized surface. After that, slimy liquid flowed into the space and the rubber surface began to stimulate his nipples by rhythmically rotating one way then the other. Sometimes quickly jerking back and forth, other times making long strides in a direction before reversing. Ian wasn’t sure what was happening but the stimulation was making him even hornier, distracting him from any concerns he may have had.

He had started to forget about the second set of hands when the ass of his suit opened. He remembered the design of the chair left his ass hanging over nothing, but he hadn’t considered how that might be used. The tip of something rubbery started working its way into his hole, forcing a panicked grunt from Ian as a well-lubed implement slid into his inexperienced hole. They worked it in and out before settling it a few inches deep. That’s when it began to inflate, inside and outside of his hole, sealing it off and plugging him. Once the plug was inflated to a painful degree, water started to flood Ian’s bowels. The machines working him over steadily increased their intensities to keep him hard and close to the edge of a frustratingly out of reach orgasm as water was pushed in and out repeatedly, deeply cleaning him out.

Eventually, the water was let out for the last time and warm lube was pumped into Ian. The plug deflated back to a dildo in shape, and began mechanically fucking him. At this point, Ian desperately wanted out of this chair, desperately wanted to cum, desperately needed something other than this endless torment. The machines were all turned to excruciatingly slow settings, holding Ian in desperation. He was close, but unable to squirm enough to get himself off. Panting, covered in sweat, and desperate for release, the air inlet to the gas mask suddenly cut off.

Ian immediately tried to complain through the gag and he was able to breathe again almost immediately. But now the air was heavier somehow. Moving freely, but clearly not open to fresh air. He took a couple deep breaths, heart racing, muscles straining against the restraints, readjusting himself as the machines continued to work him over. The air was being recirculated in the gas mask, getting staler with each breath. Ian’s lungs burned as the oxygen started to run out. Eventually, he started to struggle for air, thrashing against the restraints. He attempted to shake his head but couldn’t move an inch. Just when he started to panic, fresh air flooded his lungs. Then, without a moment to recover or process what was happening, the air immediately started recirculating again.

The whole system seemed to be linked in cycles. As he endured, writhing on edge, he realized the electricity, the milking, fucking, and nipple machines all ramped up as he ran out of air then nearly stopped when he was given fresh air. This cycle worked to build him up to the edge of an orgasm, only to grant him fresh air rather than the release the machines made him truly desperate for. Ian had no idea how much time passed, but he was absolutely exhausted. Desperate for air, desperate to be free of the machines, desperate to cum. 

Mercifully, after what must have been hours, the machines finally stopped. The milker parked itself down his shaft, leaving it well encased and sucked into the sheath, the electricity ceased. The dildo fucking his ass parked itself and reinflated, sealing his ass like a plug once more. The nipple stimulators released their suction on his chest, but remained firmly mounted in place. The air supply switched to some sort of air source in the loop. Well oxygenated but not exactly fresh from outside his confinement. Ian slumped into his bonds, completely spent and hornier than he’d ever been.

Just as he was starting to catch his breath in the deafening white noise, Ian reacted in panic as a tube was forced down his throat, causing him to wretch. After a few minutes of fruitless, practically involuntary struggle, the tube was in place and he was starting to get used to it. As he calmed down, he started to notice there was substantial movement happening around him. Things clunking around the chair, the vibration of a drill, the chair shifting around then, tilting back on a dolly, a sweet smell in the air supply. Ian started to feel tingly and floaty. He dissociated as the nitrous in his air supply made him docile for the down cycle of his box.

Ian was barely lucid for his transportation to the airfield. Now stationed in an upright box labeled 02, positioned next to 00 and 01. During his 6 hour periods awake, he will endure mechanical edging and stimulation while struggling to breathe his own recycled air. Between periods fully awake, he will be fed and hydrated through the tube in his throat. His wastes will be removed by the fuck machine’s inflatable plug enema system. His piss will be drained through the milker and into Box 01 for recycling. He will be sedated with an air mixture containing nitrous oxide to ensure both rest and to prevent lucid experience of a world where he is not trapped on edge in bondage ecstasy. These periods will last for 3 hours.

Ian doesn’t know what day it is. Ian doesn’t know how long he has been in the chair. Ian doesn’t know where the chair is. Ian doesn’t even remember what Sir’s face looks like. Ian only knows struggling on the edge, never quite achieving release. Ian can only think of his need to cum. At first Ian agonized over the decisions that led him here. What if he’d been more careful? What if he’d told someone where he was going? But these thoughts had left Ian days ago. Not that Ian knew when the thoughts had left him. Now all Ian thought about was the need to cum. The desperate, primal, singular need he could conceptualize; trapped in his chair. Trapped in his box. Waiting.