Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude

The box is set down beside the hole, the lid removed, and my cot is lifted out. The hot desert breeze feels good. The air, while the same that was being pumped into me, is better. A blindfold is put over my eyes to protect them and I am carried to the gazabo where the cot is sat down on a table under cover. They remove the food tube, catheter and IV. Next off were all the top side muscle and health monitoring patches and leads, then the bands around my cock. There is general conversation amongst the members regarding the tasks and some instructions to me, but no dialog between me and them. Very hospital surgical center like, you can tell DR. D works and is comfortable in such an environment. Mercifully, next off were my leather cuffs and straps. Gently, I was rolled over and the remaining muscles and medical patches were peeled off.  Lastly, they removed the rectal tube.

Achy, stiff and in a diminished mental state, I was sat up with assistance and moved to a waiting wheelchair, where I was then rolled over to the poolside bubble-jet spa and with two of the guys helping me settled into the tub for a solo soothing dip of about twenty minutes.  As I enjoyed the bubble action across my stiff limbs, I was given a chilled beverage with a promise that it was safe to drink.

Concerned that I could get sunburned or overheated, I was then helped out of the spa, and we walked, be it slowly and tentatively, to inside the dungeon. We went over to near the bondage bed where a massage table had been set up.  Face down on the table, I rejoined my normal dungeon bondage experience as they placed my wrists and ankles in medical style cuffs and attached them to the table. I am always kept in bondage while in the dungeon as it is my preference. I was then treated to a fantastic massage that lasted nearly an hour, resting mostly on my front, where my aching, stiff muscles were manipulated and rubbed as well as my prostrate, then uncuffed, rolled over, re-cuffed and my top worked, concluding in a glorious happy ending. No one talked to me during the body rub and I asked no questions. I was too busy internalizing and rationalizing the last few days. Soft music was playing, and I was good with just that.

After climaxing, I laid there alone for about ten minutes. It was then that DR. D approached. “I had you put back in restraints so that you could enjoy the massage and extras in your style of being bound and forced when with other men. Your flight is not until tomorrow late afternoon. I will give you some more time bound to the table as you decide what you want to do next. You can select to be released, and you can stay in one of our guest rooms tonight and for the remainder of today and tomorrow lounge around and enjoy the pool, socializing with the gang that is here in a non-submissive setting. Or, if you prefer, I can keep you in bondage to serve me and the boys that are here as you have on your past trips. While I am eternally grateful for how you helped me test my vault, be aware that our treatment if you want to stay in a submissive role will not consider or give you credit for what you just completed. You will be restrained, used and abused, just like you fantasize. Either choice is fine with me, we would enjoy your company either way. I’ll come back in about fifteen minutes for your answer.”

I am frazzled, both body and mind. Half of me wants to take advantage of the offer to just socialize. The other half of me has a desire to submit as I don’t fully feel I have recharged my ‘Type A’ batteries that these trips normally provide. I wrestled with the decision.

If you are one of the many who have followed my story over the past four encounters because you delight in reading true stories about someone who is put into strict bondage, then sexually abused and punished bordering on torture, my answer to DR. D will disappoint you. I pondered hard as to what I should do during the fifteen minutes I was allotted. My conclusion was that I needed time to recover from the four days I was strapped down, unable to move, forced to watch unsettling films and being shocked repeatedly from ecstasy to anguish all while buried seven feet underground, my life and escape dependent on the mercy of others. I elected to socialize and build an even stronger social relationship with guys who have been willing to satisfy my sick kink of wanting abuse while bound, unable to resist.