Latexxxo

Notes from a self bondage session

Being able to work from home, I have started to experiment with 24/7 and (surprising even myself) have absolutely loved it. Every night is spent in the cold comfort of my beautiful rubber sheets, with light to heavy bondage depending on how tiring the day was. Some days I would throw on a simple latex catsuit and a steel collar, others a "cute" rubber outfit. Weekends are special: that's when I throw myself into excruciating 20+ hour self-bondage sessions that push the outer limits of my endurance and lust-fuelled kinkiness. 
 
Dual channel TENS unit set to "random" mode: channel 1 hooked up to an myStim chastity cage, channel 2 to pads on the thighs. Lightly inflated vibrating buttplug (it runs out of battery in 3-4 hours - a rather long time when you have no control over it). Zipped latex shorts to hold these bad boys tight. A pair of piss-pants slide over. A black Libidex catsuit, lubed and shined, then a translucent Simon O. catsuit on top with its zippers locked. Magicwand taped firmly against the chastised "package" and connected to a timer outlet that sets it off for 5 minutes every hour. Waterproof headphones playing a little "latex slave instruction" audio I created with the Mac voice simulator. Looped for the entire session and held firmly in place by a thin latex mask. A full-hood M15 heavy rubber gasmask with a feeding tube, connected to a 1.5 liter canteen full of fresh water. The canteen itself is piped through to the urine collection pants. Anything that goes in them (piss, sweat, even some cum might sneak through) eventually overflows into the canteen. And as I drink up all the fresh water supply, I am forced to recycle my own filthy juices. Finally, the gasmask has a splitter and two meter-long hoses: one leading to a 5 liter rebreather bag, the other to a bubbler bottle half-full of stale yellow urine. "Every breath you take"... 

That's the "stimulus package". But austerity is just as important. Heavy steel cuffs, leather-lined. Rubber posture collar and chest harness. Spread-eagled to the rubber-clad bed with just a couple of inches of wiggle room. The ankles are locked straight in, while the arms are connected to a two-stage release system. First, there are the ice locks on each side, that take about 15 hours to melt. Once they've melted, I am able to pull out the rest of the chains, but each has a combination "wordlock" in the middle. Key that in (tricky in itself when wearing 2-3 layers of rubber) and the bondage is finally over. Problem is, it's around 1 am and the room is pitch black: it won't be until 6:30-7 am that I'll be able to see the padlocks and key in the combinations. (With careful timing, the whole session can last for upwards of 27-8 hours: in the winter you have 12-13 hours of natural darkness.) 

If the above 3 paragraphs sound like the for a bad Marquis movie, they're not. It's how I spent last Saturday to Sunday morning. By myself. Crazy and dangerous, I know. But I long to spend every single weekend like that. The whole session takes about 3 to 4 hours of careful preparation, then it's another 90 minutes to actually execute the dressing up and bondage without making any errors. Once the final padlock clicks, there is very little relief as "the orchestra" of toys takes over, on my journey through heaven and hell. 

There are highs: a couple of hours into the session, both channels of the TENS unit were "playing" just the right ticklish rhythm. The anal plug was still dancing when the Magicwand suddenly came to life, sending vibrations through the acrylic e-stim cock cage. I pictured myself, laying there helpless in this rather ridiculous predicament. Overcome by the heavy smell of latex combined and the piss-scented air coming from the bubbler bottle, I could feel every single inch of latex clinging tightly to my body. Tanced out with memory flashes of BDSM porn and fantasy, my cock was pressing firmly against its ticklish, vibrating acrylic prison. Seconds away from having the most glorious orgasm of my life (while fully chastised!), by some twisted command the Magicwand cut off while simultaneously, the TENS unit went into overdrive mode, sending jolts of electricity through my crotch and cock. I was brought to the verge of ecstasy, then abruptly denied it and sent to the depths of pain. A rubber slave reminded of his place by the fetish gods? 

Then there are lows. I never came close to this level of ecstasy again, even though I was extremely aroused throughout the entire session. I could feel my squeezed balls filling up with sperm all the time. Certainly some of it had leaked through the cock cage and into the "recycling" system, pretty sure I tasted it. But for the most part, I was constantly focused on managing the alternating moments of pain and pleasure from the TENS unit, wondering how long each break was going to last. Then the breaks became less fun as the buttplug died while still buried in my ass. At some point it started to really bother me, amplifying the painful jolts and taking away from the pleasant pulsing moments. But it was stuck in there, and I was not even halfway through yet. My whole body was sore from twisting and pulling on the chains. My throat was sore, too - from groaning and moaning. The taste in my mouth deteriorated significantly as sweat and my own bodily fluids poured in. Having depleted my water supply, I was now left to the "recycling" system. It was salty and had to be rationed. And I was thirsty. Also hungry. And this is when the repetitive instructional in my headphones got really old. By the time I was able to make out the letters on the wordlocks through my fogged, piss- and sweat-soaked gasmask lenses, I was longing for freedom and a pizza. 

Yet only a few hours later, after some very tasty food, a few liters of water, a thorough shower and a quick nap, I found myself wrapped in a fresh Westward Bound catsuit, "resting" on my rubber bed. I hadn't had a chance to clean it yet, so it was still covered with semi-dried sweat and piss, with random remnants of the grueling session spread around it: opened padlocks, mangled chains, tired-looking plugs and restraints. I was still chastised, for I had strategically left the key to the cock cage in my car. My choice was to either dress "normal", go get the keys and allow my cock to erupt with countless orgasms. Or I could remain locked, but with my beloved latex. Seeing I was now crawling in bed dressed in a shined-up catsuit and licking the dried salty sweat off my rubber sheets like some maniac, I had clearly made my choice. At that moment in time, I craved nothing more but to go back in bondage. I looked at my bruised cock, still stuffed in its clear acrylic prison, and thought it must miss the TENS unit. How wonderful would it have been for a strict Mistress to walk in the room right then? To whip and cane me for her amusement, then force me to pleasure Her orally until She's came. No longer of service to Her, I would then be put back in bondage and left until She needs me again.