Imprisoned

Master walked purposefully down the brightly lit corridor towards the subject’s cell.
He was looking forward to this, his erection pressing against his rubber suit a testament to this. He felt empowered by his outfit, polished to a high gleam by his attendants and with great care, lest they incur the wrath of Master. His outfit of rubber suit, rubber waders, elbow length industrial gloves, apron and expressionless hood conveyed a dominant presence.
This fact was not lost on the rubber clad attendant ahead of him, who immediately lowered his rubber hooded head to stare at his clipboard to write notes albeit awkwardly due to the thick rubber gauntlets he wore.
Master fixed his attention on the attendant. He was dressed in the uniform that was commanded by the Masters who worked here; head to toe gleaming rubber, knee high laced rubber boots, knee pads, hoods with padlocked collars, leather suspension harnesses, thick gloves and of course, in cb chastity and anally plugged. A ball gag hung around his neck should it be needed…
The attendant quickened his pace, not making any degree of eye contact. He was about to pass when Master spoke.
‘STOP!’ he said in a commanding tone. Instinctively the attendant dropped to his knees.
‘IS SUBJECT 1973 READY? The attendant thumbed awkwardly through his paperwork. ‘Yes Master, Cell 5’
‘I ASSUME HE IS DRESSED HOW I DESIRE?’ ‘Yes Master, as you desire’
With that, Master reached down and lifted the attendants rubber hooded head up to look him directly in the eye.
‘HE BETTER BE SLAVE OR ELSE IT IS YOU I WILL GRACE WITH MY ANNOYANCE! He said, making note of the attendants ID number on his collar and the precum trails on the thigh of his suit, an error to be noted.
With that, Master continued down the corridor, leaving the attendant to stand and continue his duties.
He arrived at the containment area and entered the access code into the door panel.
The mechanism clicked and swung open into a lower lit corridor which was lined with several doors. As he passed through, the door closed with a click.
Any other day, he would have looked in the other rooms through their view slots to see what other subjects were receiving but not today.
He reached Cell 5 and looked in. The cell was in stygian darkness and he smiled through his hood. He entered a further access code and walked in, reaching to his right to flick a switch. A series of spotlights illuminated a central area of the room.
Bathed in light, a single rubber clad figure struggled upon seeing his entrance.
Head to toe in black rubber, hooded, ballgagged and wadered, the figure was fastened into a leather suspension harness. His gauntleted hands were fastened to the cross bar of the suspension apparatus via heavy leather cuffs, spread apart for security. His hands opened and closed in vain against the restraints. His wadered ankles were spread via a bar and Master noted how the subject had been winched to stand on the balls of his feet. A black cb graced his genitals and a collar was fastened tightly around his neck. He struggled vainly, moaning through the ballgag but escape was impossible and this pleased Master greatly.
Master approached the struggling rubber clad form and then reached for a clipboard on a nearby medical trolley. He proceeded to walk around the subject and read through his notes.
‘SO YOU ARE NEW HERE’ he said dismissively as he walked.
‘ACQUIRED FROM ONE OF OUR FETISH CLUBS I SEE’ noting the heavy nasal breathing of the ballgagged subject who tried to rotate to keep this rubber clad captor in view but the winch mechanism had been locked into position.
‘AND YOU CAME ALONE’ he said with interest, just as he pulled level with the subject face.
Master met the subjects wide eyed stare through his rubber hood directly and spoke.
‘NOBODY SAW YOU LEAVE THE CLUB AND NOBODY KNOWS YOU ARE HERE’ he said, a wry smile on his face.
At this, the subject struggled vigorously and again tried to speak but to no avail, only succeeding in pushing pent up drool from under his ballgag, the liquid stringing down to his shiny black rubber chest.
This misdemeanour earned the subject a hard slap to his face, causing him to reel.
With that, the Master reached to the winch control that hung close by and pressed a button. A motorised sound filled the room as the subject was raised to tiptoe, causing them to struggle and their eyes to widen further.
‘NOW THEN, LET US BEGIN’
Master wheeled the trolley into the rubber slave’s view, causing more struggling and moans when he saw the implements upon it. Master proceeded to pull on some untalced examination gloves and then reached for the cb chastity keys.
He stood in front of the rubber slave and spoke. ‘I WILL NOT SOIL MY GLOVES WITH YOUR MESS’ and proceeded to remove the device, its interior slick with precum. Returning to the table, Master picked up a leather parachute and quickly snapped it into position around the top of the subject’s scrotum. He tested it with a firm pull, causing the slave to moan again.
‘MOAN AS MUCH AS YOU LIKE, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU, THESE CELLS ARE SOUNDPROOFED’ said Master with pleasure as he removed the examination gloves and discarded them. Then he loaded a few select weights to the parachute and allowed the scrotum to take their full weight, the spike lined device applying discomfort to the struggling slave.
Next he turned his attention to the slave’s nipple zips and opened them to reveal fairly erect nipples, one decorated with some kind of tattoo around it, its black design vivid against the sweat slick skin. Master reached for a pair of clover leaf clamps and fixed them in position, much to the gagged protest of the slave. He ignored them.
Wrapping the clamps chain around his gloved fist, Master proceeded to pull, causing the clamps to bite more into the sensitive flesh and causing the slave to close his eyes to the stimulation.
‘SWING YOUR BALL WEIGHTS SLAVE! ‘which the slave proceeded to do.
Master kept the clamp chain under tension and locked his hand in position, the slave adding more stimulation to the pressure as his body moved to swing his weights, his erection bobbing with his motion.
After a while, Master released the pressure abruptly. Returning to the table, he picked up a sterile medical nasal cannula and looped the device over the slave’s hooded head.
The slave resisted the Masters action to insert the short tubes into his hoods noseholes but a firm grip to the back of the slaves head quickly ended his rebellion.
Drawing the device tight to the back of the head via its plastic retainer, Master returned to the table a retrieved a modified popper bottle. The cap had an insert point for the cannula and an additional tube to allow the air through the bottle, feeding the slave the heady vapours within.
With the bottle in place, Master returned to in front of the slave and watched as the poppers took effect, the relaxing of his body, the reddening of the eye whites, the moans of intoxication, the increased flow of spittle from under the ballgag and the wilting of the hard erection.
‘YOU CAN DO NOTHING BUT BREATHE SLAVE’ to which he nodded as he felt his skin flush and heart rate increase, stripping him of inhibition and resistance.
Appropriately dosed, Master removed the bottle and lifted a black leather paddle from the table and stood again in front of his captive, his rheumy eyes focused on the paddle which the Master brought into the slave’s view. The paddle had circles cut from it to decrease the air resistance as it was swung but thick enough for a strike to leave its mark. Master ran the flat edge over the slave’s rubber clad body and then moved behind him. Master stared down at the slaves rubber clad buttocks and rested the paddle against the rubber, causing the slave to tense his muscles in anticipation of the hit. He drew away and waited.
As the slave relaxed, he struck, causing the slave to let out a higher pitched moan, stifled by the ballgag and tried to turn away. The winch lock put pay to that action. The slave tried to grip the floor with his wadered feet, trying to gain sufficient purchase to move forward in a vain attempt to avoid the hits but to no avail. Master alternated hits to each buttock, some deceptively light but most with relished vigour on the Masters part.
Eventually Master stopped and replaced the paddle on the table and eyed the other punishment implements at his disposal. Smiling, he chose a black leather riding crop.
Master walked back round to the front of the slave, swinging the crop forcibly through the air as he approached.
‘A SUFFICIENT WARM UP, DON’T YOU AGREE? He said coldly, noting the red rimmed and tear bleary eyes of his captive. More spittle ran down his hooded chin and bubbles punctuated the liquid around the ballgag. Master looked down at the flaccid penis of the slave and caressed it using the tip of the riding crop, causing him to tense and flinch at the leathers touch.
‘A PATHETIC EXAMPLE’ he said and swiftly stepped back and withdrew, raising the crop up high and bringing it down with force towards the penis…..and pulled up short, scant centimetres away from it. The swift action and intent caused the slave to panic and recoil as best they could, not realising the feint.
Smiling, the Master returned to behind the captive and reattached the popper bottle.
Allowing a few moments to pass, he spoke ‘YOU WILL COUNT EACH STRIKE’ and the slave nodded awkwardly, mumbling a gagged agreement.
Master struck, alternating each buttock, increasing in force with each strike as the slave counted, his moans of pain stifled.
With the final blow struck, Master returned the crop to the table and pulled on a fresh pair of examination gloves and proceeded to remove the spiked parachute from the moaning captive. Once done, Master replaced the cb chastity device and discarded the gloves.
‘I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU YET’ he said coldly. ‘IN FACT WE HAVE ONLY JUST BEGUN AND IT’S NOT LIKE YOU ARE GOING ANYWHERE, IS IT RUBBERSLAVE?’ he said as he ran his eyes over the suspension prison.
With that, Master threw the chastity keys onto the medical table and activated the winch, this time lifting the slave clear of the floor, his wadered feet devoid of any purchase. Grabbing the slave’s rubber hooded face; Master spoke directly at him.
‘YOU WILL HANG HERE LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT TIL I RETURN’ and with that, he disengaged the winch lock, allowing the slave to slowly rotate. Master turned and walked away towards the door, taking great pleasure in hearing the rubberslaves gagged moans of protest and the clicking of the metal on metal as he struggled.
Punching in the door’s access code, he returned the room to darkness and left the room and the rubberslave to his suspended solitude.