A Prisoner To My Own Mind
Here I was in the house of a total stranger. Stripped of my clothes, my belongings hidden away. I had nothing to claim as my own, apart from my flesh and blood. I lay in a basement void of any windows or visible escape routes, chained to the floor, I waited anxiously for the man who brought me here to appear. I almost find it comedic how I’ve found myself in this current predicament. Directed by provocations and not by sensible thought. I let my power of judgment be taken over by my darkest urges, and I deserved the position I found myself in.
Before I explain the current predicament I find myself in, I should recall my journey to this point. It was a Saturday night in June when I witnessed something that would change my life forever. Tucked between casual messages in a late-night chat, a kinky friend sent me a straightforward link and the accompanying text,
“This seems like something right up your street…”
Tapping the hyperlink on my screen, my inquisitive mind patiently waited as a loading bar spun in a perpetual loop. A video appeared on the screen where the title was enough to supply me with a lust-filled apprehension.
“Isolation And Detention Centre”
The video started with a flicker of light, as a static camera from a high angle revealed the interior of a cramped room. My kinky-fuelled brain instantly recognised the surface and shape of the walls as those of a padded cell. The bright-white surface wrapped on all sides with the markings of square tiles made from padded leather—slick and clinical.. As far as I could tell from gazing, mouth agape, the space was void of anything but dazzling, white leather.
My concentration focused on an inky-black form within the centre of the pristine-white room, as something in me shifted. A black, shiny sarcophagus lay motionless in the cell, a sweeping contrast to the bright leathered interior. My brain slowly processed each frame of the video, my heart thumping like a clangorous drum in my chest. I knew with a horny-addled certainty that inside the rubberised blob lay a tortured, but incredibly fortuitous, live prisoner.
“A shiny rubber man has been caught and put in detention…”
Text flashed up in the bottom-left corner of the screen, every word sending a shudder of horny desire through my lust-filled brain, as I studied their subdued form. The surface of the alluring lump shone in the cold, harsh light of the cell. It was hauntingly seamless. A solid block of sturdy, unmoving rubber. Only vague features of the nose, neck, shoulders and feet were visible. I envisioned a well-restrained and horny guy packed inside the rubber sarcophagus with no amount of struggling to lead to any movement. I salivated over the idea of something so… PERFECT.
Suddenly, there was a clangorous disturbance within the otherwise muted room, as somewhere off-screen a shadowy figure entered the cell. The shape clambered inside, as it came into view at the bottom left of the video feed. His shiny, dome-like head was all that I could see, but I could tell immediately that he was masked in thick rubber. Dense, weighty straps wrapped around the back of his rubberised head like tentacles of an octopus. The slightly laboured and inhibited sound of his breathing echoed from the video as a gas mask was fixed tightly to his face. He stood surveying the dormant hunk of rubber within the cell, like a hunter scouting its prey.
The camera angle abruptly altered, and the male came into full view. Clad in imposing black riot gear, the figure stood over the prone form of his victim, his appearance full of calculated menace. From head to toe, his body was encased in heavy, tactical armour. The sleek, segmented plates moulded perfectly to his body, adding to his already large, muscular build. His torso was wrapped in a modular tactical vest, its shiny plastic resembling that of the rest of his outfit. The vest bore no specific insignia or lettering just a dark plate of nothingness. The entire outfit was like some kind of futuristic knight.
As if the SWAT gear wasn’t imposing enough, a matte black Kevlar helmet, fitted with an M50 gas mask, obscured the male’s entire face from view. Behind the dark lenses, clearly mirrored to prevent eye contact, his gaze remained hidden and detached — a black-clad phantom against the clinical brightness of the cell.
“It’s time for some IMPORTANT exercises…”
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