Give me your hands.
In front.
Palms up.
That's a good boy.
The first thing I am going to do is take your hands away.
I'm going to put a small sponge ball in each hand.
I want you to squeeze it while I wrap your hands.
I want you to feel me taking them away from you, wrapping them in tape, creating little
fists.
So simple, isn't it?
But think of all the things you can no longer do.
No more touching.
No more interacting.
Oh, already so helpless.
How does it feel to not be able to open your hands, to not be able to use them?
Look over there at the door.
If I close it, do you think you could open it again?
And when I run my fingers through your hair, do you realize you can't comb or brush it
or wash it anymore?
Now I'm going to take these heavy rubber mittens and slide them over your taped up
hands.
So soft.
As I buckle them shut, do you feel your freedom slipping away even more?
I love how they look on you.
Show me.
Hold them up.
Very nice.
I'm going to lock them now.
I want you to know they are not coming off.
I want you to feel it.
Now slide your arms in these sleeves.
They're coated with a bit of lube because I want it to fit tight, molding to you like
a second skin.
There we go.
Let me pull the jacket on you, tight.
I am going to take your arms away next, but first I need to buckle this shut, pulling
it tighter, surrounding you, the straps in the back, so many of them.
I love cinching each and every one of them down as tightly as I possibly can.
This is your home now, your tight, heavy, rubber, straight jacket.
It isn't so bad now, is it?
You can still move your arms, but now, as I cross them in front of you, slipping them
through these heavy loops and pull them tighter, tighter, and buckle them shut.
Does it feel nice, hugging yourself like that?
How does it feel?
Oh, are you surprised?
Did you think you'd be able to move your arms?
Maybe even just a little?
It doesn't work like that though, honey.
Not this jacket.
Not when it's properly secured.
Now look at this collar.
This collar is special, too.
Hard, inflexible, and once it's on, your head will be immobilized, frozen.
Now, how does it feel as I place the hard plastic under your chin, wrapping the collar
around your neck, and slowly drawing the straps tighter?
There, sitting nice and straight.
Chin up, good boy.
You're starting to look a bit distressed.
Now, when I move around you, you can't even turn your head.
Is this what you imagined?
Strict bondage.
I love those words.
I want you to feel your hands that you can't open, your arms that you can't move, your
head that you can't turn.
Now, your legs.
Bend them for me.
Heels to your ass, Gimp.
I am going to slip these heavy rubber sleeves over them, covering them completely, and when
I pull the straps, your legs are going to be compressed, bent at the knee, calves pressed
to your thighs.
helpless, unable to move, dependent.
Only two places left, your head and your cock.
But first, I want to show you your new home.
It's a box, your Gimp box.
It holds you up on your knees, legs open, and at the top, we have a hole for your head.
It makes for such a beautiful display.
My helpless, bound, trapped Gimp.
Just your head, your face, and your cock.
First, I'm going to press two pieces of tape over your eyes.
There we go, sealing them shut.
Not a chance of opening them.
Then plugs in your ears.
From now on, you won't hear a thing.
A large, rubber inflatable plug in your mouth, and as I pump it, you feel it not only fill
your mouth, but you also feel it expand into your cheeks, silenced, completely.
Now, you feel a heavy rubber hood pressing against your face, stretched and then zipped
up in the back.
For a moment, you can't breathe, your nose covered by the heavy rubber.
You panic, but your panic is invisible to me.
You can't move, you can't speak, you can't even squirm.
You barely make a whimper.
I slide two tubes into your nose, your only connection to the world now.
Tubes that you depend on to breathe, and I can sense your panic by how desperately you
inhale through them, and it arouses me.
I block them for just a moment, because I want to renew your panic, your fear.
Oh, you thought this was about your body, but that was never the point.
Direct bondage.
It is all about your mind, and what I am going to do to it.
Then, I'm going to leave you this way for hours, helpless and trapped.
I want you lonely, bored, because that is when your mind starts to play tricks on you.
You may think you hear something, but you don't.
You will try to maintain your sense of time, counting at first, and then trying to imagine
problems to solve, memories, trying to remember old poems or rhymes, for a while.
But that won't last.
Soon, you will realize you have lost all track of time.
You have no idea how long you've been bound.
You'll try to move, but you won't be able to.
Even just a little bit, you think, just to stretch your hands, move your legs, wiggle
your arms, even move your fingers, but you can't.
The cackle will feel invasive, impossibly big, filling your mouth, and you'll try to
figure out a way to spit it out, but nothing helps.
You can't blink, you can't hear, you are alone.
You can't beg, you can't cry.
Your eyes are taped shut and sealed in a heavy rubber hood, eventually you'll surrender.
You will give up, and when you do, only then you'll feel my hand wrapped around the one
part of you that's still free, your cock.
Did you forget about it?
My hand is touching you, I'm wearing a latex glove, my hand covered in lube.
I slide it over your cock, feeling you stiffen in my grasp.
Slowly I stroke you, methodically, rhythmically, slowly.
I watch as your cock responds, because the rest of you can't, motionless, silent.
It is just me, your cock, and your mind, and I am going to use your cock to torture you,
letting you get right to the edge before pulling my hand away, stopping just short of an orgasm
leaving your throbbing, aching, twitching, up.
And when your erection starts to subside, I start again.
Over and over I edge you, for as long as I like, until I get bored.
Slowly you begin to understand that this will be your only connection to me, to the world,
and to your own sanity.
When I stop, you have to wait, and I make you wait, for hours.
Teasing, frustration, denial, that's all you get to feel now, and it's all your life
is, and from now on, it's all your life will ever be.
You are my gimp, without my touch, you have nothing with it.
You have only desperation and suffering, and for every minute of the rest of your life,
you will choose the latter, because it's all you have now, and you have no choice.