8/11/2014 7:07:31 PM:               Rope Friction Conundrum So, it had been a while since any major BDSM activities went down, and he was settling into a pattern of day to day activities.  So was she.  It seemed the inventive ideas had been all played out.  That is, until she asked him to build a new rig for her amusement.  She only asked that he build a sturdy wooden frame with uprights about 4 feet apart.  The wooden base would be between, and she asked that he make two open channels in the wood between the uprights just wide enough for a pair of ankles to insert into and glide through.  He knew he'd be using his own for measurement, and afterall, it would be his used in the contraption.  So, he quickly set up plans and built the device.  On each upright would be a single electric toilet flusher device.  She handed him two.  He would wire them to their power source so that when one eye sensor saw an object get just out of range, it would turn on.  This was simple and straight forward.  To the outputs were no flusher mechanism, but a relay to turn something on or off... still simple enough.  To the rear eye was wired an electric fence charger plugged in nearby.  To the front eye was connected a power strip and on/off electric switch.  Two sturdy eye bolts were to be placed into the facing sides of both uprights.  Easy, he was done.  Now his ordeal would begin.She returned one evening after work and presented him with a nice ~ 4 1/2 foot section of marine grade nylon rope that she'd used to moor her boat at the local marina.  It had seen its fair share of the sea, wind, and sun.  It was frayed with partly broken bristles of nylon straying all about its diameter.  She had chosen the length in her plans, and had caked it repeatedly with Icy Hot.  Two marine style eyelets were attached to each end.  She clipped one end to one upright and had him stand naked between the uprights -- back to one, chest toward the other.  She instructed him to insert each ankle into the slots running between the uprights and with some careful wiggling, he did as she instructed.  She ran the rope between his legs, had him to strand tip-toed and with some effort, managed to hook the other eyelet into the other upright.  He thought this would be hard enough due to the nature of the Icy Hot.  However, quickly she used a standard pair of ankle cuffs under the platform to secure each ankle.  Now he could not lift either ankle out from the wooden slots.  She superglued one electric candle warmer to each of his ass cheeks, around the plastic bezels of each.  Each cord was plugged into the power strip.  A steel cock ring was then fastened around his balls.  From that, a wire was attached to one end of the fence charger, and two electrode patches were stuck to each ankle and then connected by wire to the other side of the fence charger.She informed him that a hot pair of buns and attentive focus on situations around him were two qualities she desired and felt were lacking in him lately.  She informed him that she'd be leaving out of town tonight and would be back sometime late tomorrow afternoon.  She kissed him as she fastened a rope around his torso under his arms and ratcheted it up snugly with a ratchet device mounted to a structural beam above.  She cuffed his hands behind his back with a steel figure-8 device with wrists in stacked configuration -- no way he could lower them beneath the top of his hips.  She kissed him once more, slapped him for good measure, then left with the flick of a switch.He quickly realized his predicament.  The two candle warmers on his ass cheeks were really starting to burn.  More and more intensity forced him to shuffle his feet forward as if he could somehow escape the heated situation on his back side.  The movement dragged the scouring, bristly rope through his groin with added discomfort.  But suddenly... click he hears.  The pain started subsiding in his ass cheeks just as he was racked with shocking pain through his balls.  About one time every second he received another unrelenting shock.  He quickly shuffled backward and click... the shocks stop.  Immediately almost, he felt the candle warmers heating up again.  Within moments it was all he could bear and now knew that he would be forced to choose between the two punishments all night until the next day.  As one decision quickly turned into the other, he shuffled back and forth unable to lift either ankle from their prison below.  The Icy Hot saturated rope was burning him up in another way.  Sit he thought!  Break this damned rope and duck beneath the view of either eye and have at most one punishment to deal with.... but which one would he choose.  He might even be able to thrash about and disable the contraption.  Sitting was met with equal resistance from the crotch rope, and as the shoulder loop cinched around his torso, he realize that it alone could hold his weight.  Thrashing from side to side he could not topple the wide base-frame he had himself hand constructed.  So with increasing urgency, all he could do was cuss her, praise her, hate her, and love her all at the same time.  He just hoped his neighbors could hear the pleas for help and rescue him.  He also hoped the neighbors could not hear and would not embarrass him to death in discovering his situation.  He subsided as usual, to deal with agony for the pleasure of being HER slave.  So all night long, it was click, shuffle shuffle, click, shuffle shuffle.

7/1/2013 9:00:53 PM: Lock in your devotion to her, or me. Troubles with the boat had him seeing less outdoor action as summer progressed.  Much BDSM activity had come to a lull for the most part.  She had professed to him that she wanted to entertain the notion of expanding her dating, as time was precious and her attention to him had taken up much time.  She knew her beauty escalated his masochistic urges, and the new beau had a thing for a poly situation.  So it was set, she would find a masochist slave female to pair with her pet.  He was even allowed to help in the selection process.  By some stroke of uncharacteristic luck, he found his companion.  They seemed to click on so many levels.  The mistress had the final say, but she felt the attractive new girl could be used for pain and to further her pets devotion to accepting the same fate.  Her only worry was that if allowed access to the new girl, he would either take more torment at her hands to either protect or impress the other.  Why did she care.... didn't know, but she did.  Deep down she felt she might become jealous of the new pet, and that her original's attraction to the masochistic pairing would drive him to this slave and away from her.  She was prepared not to let that happen. Not too long into the meet and greet process, simple ground rules had been laid out, and it was time for her prized pet's initial test.  She led their newly formed pair to the basement of the dingy Florida rental.  There were narrow but sturdy looking metal support poles around, a weight bench, some boxes, typical basement stuff really.  It was no dungeon, but it always could be.  In typical fashion, she had laid out some implements onto the bench across from a pole.  This one pole had a hole drilled through it with a  shiny new thick bolt put through it, with a nut on one end to keep it there.  This was all he noticed as he was led to this one pole.  'You see dear, if you're to be paired and given access to one another, I want you to earn it.'  First the new pet was taken to the bench, with items swept off into a storage tote, she she was firmly ziptied to the bench... a pillow propping her head forward to him.  His mistress explained that a big part of his devotion shown to her was through his steadfast endurance in whatever situation she tested him with.  He knew this, and agreed that he would show the same devotion to his new mate.  With his mate gagged, he had no idea what her vocalizations would be to whatever befell them that night. His mistress revealed three hardened steel bike locks -- the long U shaped locks you see people attaching their valued bikes to outdoor railings.  It so happened that these were luckily just wide enough that with the locking end cap removed, would encircle his neck.  She slid one U bend over his neck from the front, with end cap removed.  She then backed him up to the metal pole and locked the end cap just above the bolt in the pole.  'Don't slip dear, you'll choke to death.'  She's been so mean lately.  She ordered him to masturbate to 'drain the tank' and he complied.  Immediately a glass of ice water was forced over his cock and balls and briefly held there.  Away comes the glass with its contents poured over his new mate.  Without delay, an Icy Hot paste was worked into his man parts with avengence with more squirted into a CBT 6000S looking chastity device.  It was done to place his now pain-racked and shrunk parts into the device with less fuss.  On went a small pad lock to seal the deal, and now she brought his elbows together behind his back.  With some tugging and effort, she managed to slip both elbows together, touching behind, into the U bend of another bike lock.  The end cap was locked in place and like the other, the key was removed.  A familiar waist chain was locked tightly about his waist, and his hands cuffed, one on each side.  This would keep the bike lock about the elbows from sliding downward.  He was next ordered to step into a separate storage tote filled with shiny wood screws.  Excruciating pain was travelling through him not just from the feet, but at the elbows and last but far from least, the chemically 'enhanced' chastity situation.  'How much more can you endure for her?  Don't think of me.  This is about you and her.  You've chosen to show your devotion.  I can't say that you will, that is up to you.  Fail me and we stop here.  A sister slave you will never have.' Next the third bike lock is slid around his ankles as they are together, and scooting the feet together inside the tote so the lock would close, sent all new pain through him from down below.  'You cannot raise one ankle at a time now to escape the box, and the lock around your neck means you cannot raise both at the same time.'  Last possibly, she now picked a handful of screws from the tote below and worked them through a 2' looking foam ball.  Though the middle was a large zip tie.  Drops of superglue near the upper-most threads of each screw would keep them from backing out she said -- safety first afterall.  The screw-pronged ball was then gently worked into his open mouth and after some manipulating, it barely went in.  The fee ends of the large zip tie was zipped together tightly at the back of his head.  There's no way he could keep his mouth strained open under muscle and willpower alone, and this was confirmed as his jaws began to contract closed around the foam ball from hell.  How much pain was he in for?  He felt confident to this point knowing she never went too far with him before.  But would her perceived jealousy of his attraction to the new girl force her overboard in her plans this time? With the tote at his feet up against the pole, with only a polished concrete floor under them, he was advised to handle his ordeal coming with the most concentration possible.  A simple squirm or two would have the plastic tote sliding outward from the pole and he'd be hanging by his neck.  Whatever he thought, of all this punishment so far, his only focus was on his elbows now.  The strain of them being rigidly held together and naturally forcing outward against the unforgiving steel shank of the bike lock was almost more than he could handle.  He was told to communicate with her using only a nod of the head -- yes or no. Out came a bullwhip and a thin, nylon carriage whip.  'Don't worry about her, she'll get her testing in my room later tonight.  Your ordeal is about the combination of the many torments you will undergo simultaneously.  How well do you know this little pet on the bench?  What are you willing to endure to spend your down time with her.  How much do you value the touch of another female in your presence, with whom you can share your miserable existence?  Don't try to count the whip lashes.  This will end when almost every pore of your body is seeping as much as my soul does in letting this new union form.'  Her disdain for taking on the new pet was starting to show already. One lash, two, ten, fifty.... who knows... 100, 200, she hadn't said a word to him about his well being or whether or not he wanted this to end.  All he knew is that this was his test at a new life, one in which he wanted.  He knew that passing the test meant his equally whipped companion would be entangled his *HIS* own arms, locked into the small cage in the corner as his mistress and her new man slept together upstairs.  He wanted tenderness, he wanted affection, he wanted validation for all of this suffering, but masochistically inclined he also wanted the pain.  But how much would it take to break him?  Could he be broken in this fashion?  A new motivation from times past, and an opportunity he could not let slip away.  800, 900, he really lost count.  He was beyond what he could handle now, just holding onto the one thought of his new imagined life that drove out that urge to give that dreaded left to right head shake indicating he could not take any more.  He was drenched in sweat, with this opened gashes in his skin barely responding to the added sting of the salty mess he was now covered in.  Somewhat awakening him came two swift opened handed slaps across his now down-turned faced.  The new pain of the screw tipped ball gag sending his head reeling backward thudding into the pole behind.  That he could feel.  He'd almost lost feeling in his feet now.  The renewed pain of his elbows came crashing back into reality as he'd all but lost feeling in his lower arms.  His hands could do nothing to assist.  This time arms, hands, shoulders, legs... everywhere covered in red lines left behind by the whips.  She said, 'what's coming is for both your devotion and your will to get your own way in this.'  Back and forth came vicious slap after slap, left then right, until he was screaming through the gag and partly out of fear at finally seeing some blood drip down his chin.  WAS he really alright?  Had he gone too far?  Had she this time?  But then the question he had been waiting for, 'Slave I can remove her to begin her own trials upstairs, but first tell me are you willing to continue?  He nodded in the affirmative that he would continue, still yet, defiant to an end (but what end, if any?)  'My man will be home from work soon.  He can give you further punishment if you feel this strongly toward your devotion to your new pairing.  Can you handle that?'  Again, he nodded in the affirmative.  With fear of the unknown and agony raging through every bit of his being, he was surprised next to start feeling the sensation of release and hearing locks being unlocked.  He was now free to collapse outside the box and lay on the basement floor.  A bike lock was re-capped about his neck to the lower area of the pole.  He was instructed that he would be left there until being rejoined with his new mate later that night.  He could now see the face of his mate, as she was being released from her ties at the bench.  No words were needed to see that what he endured for her had driven her into a lust for the situation... for him maybe, or maybe just for what horrific torture she got to witness.  Who knows for sure?  His mistress informed him that although he had performed to expectation, his mate would now begin her own trial upstairs with both she and her new man.  Remember she said, 'This little one has to come through her own torture.  You won't have the privilege of seeing her suffer as you have, but if she fails she's tossed out the front door naked to go stalk the next couple who will have her.  You better hope she has the same devotion to you, to us, and to this new beginning.'  Away then went, basement stairs creeking as they ascended, light now turned out, and he was alone.

6/2/2013 3:28:24 PM: The sting of a new life at sea He had been wondering what lies ahead for the summer with her purchase of an older catamaran sailing yacht.  She called it a yacht, but it was a diesel powered mid-size catamaran in need of a few repairs here and there.  The thought of where it could take the two of them were in his mind a lot lately.  He was with her now on a pleasant trip down the east coast to where it was harbored at dock.  Just before arriving, she had news for him that instead of selling it, it would save them financially through some sort of kink related tourism.  Oh yes, he was excited. Little time was wasted at the hotel the night before their first official sail together.  She had a more experienced kink-friendly friend of hers chosen to serve as captain, and before long, morning was upon them.  Sleepy, they both arrived at the dock that morning.  She had chores for him including the lowering of a heavy, steel custom-made cage into the underdeck area near the engines.  It fit barely, the hydraulic crane seemed odd to be a part of the boat for a pleasure craft, but oh well.  Just before things got underway, he could just see into the distance as a hoard of young, attractive women were coming their way.  She first put some blacked out goggles on him so that he could not see.  Following, he was stripped and teased but mostly humiliated by the oncomers as they boarded.  She took him to the back privately and said his instructions would be simple:  obey and keep quiet.  She informed him that they would be embarking on a series of naughty cruises just off the coast and he would be the entertainment.  He was ordered (as he suspected he would be) to go into the tiny cage.  It was hard enough fitting through the hole to get beneath the deck, having to then maneuver around water cooling pipes and cables.  She watched as he felt his blinded way toward the direction he remembered the cage door faced.  He opened the door, backed into it with knees drawn to his chest, and was barely able to pull the door shut and lock it closed with the padlock she had just handed him.  Not long after, a deafening roar came as the twin diesel engines roared to life.  The vibration was jarring, and there was a strong smell of diesel fuel despite none should be leaking.  It was an older boat, afterall.  The engines just drowned out the thumping music and laughter atop him above.  Water had come in and was filling up around the cage, a normal amount by most accounts, as the boat's cooling system had a few leaks, and the pumps were to keep up with the task of pumping it out anyway.  This water warmed by the engine cooling system meant an uncomfortably warm unintended bath, and then when mixed with fuel oils in the mix, became quite uncomfortable by the time the engines finally shut off.  It was a sauna of heat, humidity, noise, and cramped quarters with steel bars stabbing into compressed flesh as the day grew on. The sails must be up now he thought, it had been relatively quiet for at least a half an hour now.  Next the deck lid flew up, and a key was lowered to him on a string.  He carefully took it and unlocked the cage door without having to question what it was for.  He was called up top, and slowly managed to squeeze himself out the front of the cage, maneuver around it, and prepare to ascend up.  There was one final hurdle of getting around and over the exhaust cooling piping to gain access to the hatch opening.  He quickly learned which ones to look out for in his blinded touch-and-go moving, all while the boat swaying side to side in the waves outside.  A hiss of flesh contacting hot steel met him with a final leap to the topside, and no sooner than he frantically rubbed at his side to assuage the pain, he was met with a cooler full of icy water.  You're o.k., don't be a baby she told him.  You will want to impress our clients. Led to where he believed to be the front of the boat, he had a step to overcome near the forward mast.  He was backed up against it, thick leather suspension cuffs locked onto his wrists, and then fastened above him to a rope.  The rope was cranked by the mast winch to affix his bound wrists to the lower area of the rope holding the sail up.  He only has a perch for his feet, a round, thick steel bar that had been made slippery by the spray from the sea... that or the sweat and mire running down his body from his time spent under deck. Slave, she said aloud, welcome to our party.  Within a minute he received a full force lash from what he could only assume was a single tail whip.  It hurt badly, and he yelled out in surprise.  He was scolded for the outburst, and he then could put together more of her plan in his mind.  The lovely ladies aboard the boat were all freshly into the BDSM lifestyle, and most expressed envy of her having a man that could be used in such a fashion.  More and more whip lashes found their mark on his skin, and mark his skin they did, all day long.  Multiple lashes came seemingly at once, letting him know she had handed out whips to her seafarers as if handing out snorkels, masks, and fins on a normal charter snorkeling boat.  Time passed through the day as gusts would tug at the sail, jerking him off of his perch, suspended by his wrists, the sun blistering his glistening unprotected naked body, with welts rising all over from the vicious sadism of this crew of women.  She had always kept him to herself during their relationship, but now he was more than a private slave, he had earned her knowledge that he can and will take whatever, whenever to satiate her sadistic desires. Music, alcohol, and dancing were all going on about him.  The more shy women would come up and examine the marks others left on his body, there would be encouragement and instructions from his domme on how to throw a whip.  He was a human whipping post at sea -- would no passers by report this?  Did he really want that sort of attention anyway?  The more aggressive ladies would always come back for their turn at reddening the fleshy object restrained to the boat.  The wrap around cracking of the whips against his flesh were all he had to anticipate other than the wind tugging at his wrists, with only the clinking of stainless steel attachments against the side of the mast serving as warning signals for the stronger wind gusts that would come. He was eventually let down, and with no strength in his arms left, led to the forward area near the cargo net up front.  He was laid on his back, the goggles were removed, and as his eyes adjusted to the brightness around him, he saw the hoard of women who were his tormentors.  Strapped down tightly at four corners, he now served as their sitting bench for the return trip home.  A tiny sea urchin one of the girls brought aboard during snorkeling was placed into the tip of a chastity device.  The device was put on him and locked in place.  'Try not to get an erection now on the ride home, and spare yourself some agony darling,' she told him.  Very attractive women in tiny swimsuits were all around, sitting atop him, playing with the welts over his body, dragging their fingernails across them like ripples on a washboard.  The smell of sunscreen and the slippery sliding of asses against his face and body were more than he could take.  He was in heaven and he was in hell.  The ride home seemed to pass so much quicker. He was given a run-down list of cleaning and preparation work for the boat as it was moored and the ladies all departed.  She only had one more statement for him that really surprised him -- an ultimatum.  She gave him an actual choice this time.  'Allow this to be your daily existence, or we are done.'  The day ended with him eating a quick sandwich, re-hydrating, and crawling below deck once again to spend the night balled up in the cage where his day started.  The lock was back in place, and fresh burns from the cooling system surrounding him were eating away at his will not to scream, before the pain of the cage would start slowly digging into his resolve to continue on.  Water again swelled up around his lower body, carrying with it warmth and the now familiar oily film from the muck below.  He could only hope the boat's flood sensors and batteries would remain functioning as the night grew on.  The occasional electric pump kicking on would lower the level by a few inches, then the process would repeat.  How long could he endure this?  How many days would this be?  The next morning, it literally took him 20 minutes to free himself from his entrapment below deck.  Her only offer of assistance was a long iron rod she extended so that he could pull himself above deck.  She left this iron in front of him as he was on his knees trying to stand up for the first time in 10 hours.  A branding iron?!  Is she serious?  The propane torch next to her keys and sunglasses at the helm seemed to be a clue.

1/29/2013 8:12:33 PM: Pond fishing, into the depths Today was one of those freakishly hot days that sometimes happen in winter. She had thought of a way to play with her sub and perhaps have some amusement too. It wasn't supposed to become that much of an intense or scary scene really, well, it wasn't supposed to. On her new farm there was a pond, decent in size, that wasn't fed by any natural streams. The water was therefore a bit warmer than most, so algae was everywhere and it was mostly stagnant. She had noticed so many bubbles from time to time, and figured it must have carp or some sort of fish in it. She told her sub what lies before him this afternoon, as usually she would not. She ordered him to walk from her home and meet her at this particular pond at 2:00 p.m. He showed up on time, wearing a t-shirt and shorts... warm day afterall. As he approached she showed him that the water was surprisingly not that cold, and quite tolerable, despite any of the late winter snow run-off that had probably occurred. The pond was quite full in level. She ordered him naked, and he complied. She tied a small juice bottle she finished off around his neck to provide some buoyancy to help him keep his breath. She began her task of tying some 80 lb. test monofilament fishing line around his ball sac and knotted it so that it wouldn't loosen and come off. To this loop was tied a makeshift trotline with smallish sized fishing hooks, because, she wanted to catch these little fishies and enjoy the amusement of his struggling for air at the surface as they race toward the bottom, providing the CBT type torture and amusement that she just didn't feel like inflicting herself. He didn't think too much of the possible consequences, and before much time passed, there were about 4 hooks about 3 ft. apart each for close to 12 ft. of line total between him and her. She baited the hooks and handed him the line. He was ordered to hop into the pond and meet her in the rather deep middle section. He did so... harsh temperature change to adjust to, but he adjusted rather quickly. Adrenaline and the unknown kept him warm so he thought, or at least she summized. In a flat bottom boat slid into the pond, she met him in the middle. At this time the line was just freely dangling below. She reached down to her sub and cuffed his hands behind his back, leaving his feet swishing freely beneath. Some time passed and nothing happened. As she watched him bob upright, she passed time on her new tablet reading the latest novel. Suddenly, there was a grunt in her sub. Following that, he went under for a bit then came back up. She thought he was just attempting to find the bottom with his feet. He didn't jerk under, just down and then slowly back up. He was panicked, but persisted. Next, he started drifting slowly away from her, sinking lower all the while. The bottle tied to his neck had no slack now, pointing straight up. With no real notice, he went under again. More time passed this instance, and as she paddled closer, he got deeper. Too much time was passing. She leaned over the boats edge and as her armpit met the surface of the water, she was able to grab the rope around his neck, pulling upward. He surfaced for a brief moment terrified... 'something has me, help!' Moving to improve her grip, he slipped from her hands and was then gone again under the water's surface. She could hardly see him now, with the murky water severely reducing visibility. She had to paddle to reposition and he was now near the dam somewhat on his side about 3 ft. down. To her great surprise, a huge snapping turtle crossed over him between her and went downward out of sight. He sank lower, now just a yellowish tinge under the water below. She knew he might be in real trouble. Struggling to reach him with an oar, she once again got ahold of him. The turtle had crossed over him and one or more hooks had been dragged into his flesh ensnaring him. Before the ordeal was over, she discovered that the turtle had pulled him down and partly under some submerged fencing that she didn't know existed below the water's surface. With determination, she pulled to bring him up, and after some time managed to get him up so he could take a breath. His limited vocalizations between spitting up water and gasping for air were not nice to say the least. She got him free by cutting the line. She towed him over to the shallow end on the other side, and dragged him onto the muddle edge. Now angry at some of his earlier outburts, she tied a strong rope in a gag fashion around his head and through his open mouth. She tied it tightly to the boats mooring hooks, hopped out and knowing he could not get out with his hands cuffed, pushed him backward, and pushed the boat out from the pond's edge. He was scuffed a bit from the abrasion with the fence, had one hook in his side, but still had one more hook dangling away. He would have to stay here now in this pond for his transgression earlier, as she walked home to have dinner by herself. Well, he couldn't be pulled beneath anymore, he can breath, and he won't be choked because of the rope no longer being around his neck. His balls may suffer some more though, pending that turtle is still hungry, and not knowing how many more may be out there. Tough she thought, tonight he was going to serve as her throne as she did some online shopping. Oh well, now all she has to look forward to is what he might catch for her before being taken back to his cage for the night. Her only regret was leaving her cell phone in the boat.

9/2/2012 4:01:43 AM: Survive my shower, then you can have one too He had never said a word about having any irritation at how long it took her to get ready to go out in the evenings.  He was grateful that whatever she did to get herself ready, she was always nothing short of stunning.  But this evening, he would get to meet her new creation.  She had been taking metal working classes at a local community college.  So, downstairs not far from the front door, he put in place her new creation she welded together in the garage.  So he had already seen it, but wasn't sure about the wooden box there by the front door.  She brought this in herself.  Using a chain hoist from the garage, he helped her lift the heavy, tubular steel cage up and over, then down into this wooden box. It was a wooden box just larger than the cage itself.  The edges were all caulked and the box appeared waterproof.  There was no top yet to the box.  There wouldn't be.  What he thought might be a shipping container designed to keep moisture out, was really an open top containment device to keep fluids IN.  The cage itself wasn't very large, but plenty big enough to move around in.  It had a door on the top that was hinged, and could be padlocked shut on the other side.  It had a square shaped raised part in the middle, sort of like a little turret.  Anyway, she told him she would draw him a bath to take while she got ready upstairs.  There was already plastic sheeting duct-taped to the floor leading out the hall into the garage.  So, she said come back to me in 5 minutes. 5 minutes later, he came back, to see she was definitely in the mood to play.  She had filled, jug after jug, the cage to the top with what appeared to be salsa.  Could they be going out for Mexican and this was some sort of kinky prelude?  He knew to expect great sadism from her, and his curiosity rose as he read the labels on each food service looking jug, with notices about only being handled by licensed food services groups, cautions for wearing protective gloves when handling, etc...  He's smart, he knew this must be some pretty hot stuff.  Hot it was. Not in the heat sense, but in the chemically irritating sense.  This hot sauce was of the hottest variety, with capsaicin levels that had it only used sparingly in the spiciest of dishes.  Well, not too bad he thought, she hadn't filled the box quite full of it, and besides there was room so he wouldn't have to get his face in it.  Next was the expected command to strip and get into the cage.  In his lust driven by her near-nude preparation for her own shower, he complied quickly wanting this to be a great evening.  His body displaced the spicy concoction up to the top.  He was afraid he'd force it to spill but it seemed the top of the box was a good 2 inches above the top of the cage... all good.  He hoped this stuff wouldn't begin to hurt badly in his most sensitive areas.  Little time was his before she quickly grabbed his wrists together cross-ways behind his back and applied the inescapable figure-8 Chicago cuffs.  His legs down in the muck were to be left free.  Quickly as the cage top was closed, he was forced under the surface completely.  New panic set in as he could only think to find that square raised area to surface for a breath.  In seconds the pain around his eyes, nose, and lips was devastating.  Even the areas he first worried about began to burn as if ablaze.  Latex gloved fingers rubbed and tugged at his ears as he heard her voice... 'sweety I've locked this cage door closed, you've probably noticed that the cage is not tall enough to fully kneel upright -- you have to keep those quads you've failed to properly exercise tight or you might drown right here.  I'm going to take my shower now.  You can relax a bit, but the sauce around you is off the Scoville scale in terms of heat.  I promised you a hot night, and you're going to get it.  I hope you can last for the next 15 minutes.'