Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude

It ends up taking probably a full day until I get accustomed to my predicament. Mostly because it took that long to be exposed to the full cycle that they provided to keep me alive and for them to run through most of the ways they had to amuse and abuse me. In time, I actually craved the abuse as it was something to distract me and occupy my time as boredom both mentally and physically set in rapidly. Secured in a box, unable to move with no human contact most of the time starts to drive you insane. Someone zapping your cock become welcome. Sick, I know, but you begin to want it, need it, almost beg for it. Stimulation is a natural body need.

Of the cycles, a few are noteworthy. Eating, meaning having liquid nutrients of some sort pour into my stomach through my nose could be detected as it gave a slight warming feel and gentle fullness of sorts that eased the hunger feel. I tasted nothing, yet I didn’t have a yearning to chew a steak either, which I found interesting.

Pooping also was noted. It didn’t happen often. There didn’t seem to be a lot, and it was very loose, just short of diarrhea. You could feel the urge to go as normal, and with a little natural push, I did. It seemed like the muscles at work were around the tube. The looseness and ease I believe to be from a combination of my pre-trip fasting, my post arrival cleansing by others while I was sleeping, and the twice daily liquid diet, whatever it is, that flowed down the feeding tube. I also received what I think was water down the tube for hydration. That I guess caused a collection of fluids that move eventually to my bladder, but I never felt myself urinating, which is typical with a urinary catheter. It was doing its job continually and without notice.

I find that I struggle with my leather restrains every hour or two. You know you can’t escape but the mind forces the body to try. And when you fail, there is a short period of frustration and then depression.

There are lots of things that are stressors in this situation. One is the passing of time. The excruciatingly slow passage of time. You try to avoid its grind on you by sleeping or going deep into thought, but as soon as you do, the body is disturbed by some action, like the muscle exercise stimulation, a pleasure stimulation, a pain shock punishment, or the loud voices of agony from the steaming videos. In my box I could not track the exact time, a possible blessing, but because of the sometimes on, sometimes not outside monitor feed, I could tell sometimes daybreak, midday, nightfall. Also, I could not tell you that it was 6:30, but I could feel the passing of each hour as my muscles are exercised. It might not have been exactly hourly, maybe, I don’t know. I certainly could tell when the day has come and gone, the lights are illuminated on the patio at night and the cameras feeding my monitor picks that up when they choose to stream that view. Another time tracker is temperature. Underground temperatures would normally be constant, but with air being forced into my enclosure from above, it is hot and stuffy during the height of day and almost chilly at night.

To a normally very active, type A guy, strapped down here causes a mental fight between him and the submissive I’m trying to be on this visit. The relief I seek as a submissive when I come here may be lost. I fight back with the thought that I am in one of the greatest of all bondage fantasies, while not mine, of being buried alive by my tormentors who first abducted me, stripped me, bound me and placed me in an unmarked  grave, with them in total control of my existence from above, tormenting me both physically and mentally for their own amusement, with no way to resist. That thought can battle back some of the woes of this bondage slut. Thankfully I’m not claustrophobic, and that helps too.

And so, I lay here in state.