Date: Thu, 21 Jan 2010 22:35:16 -0700 (MST)
From: stories@mudcub.com
Subject: STFU

STFU
by Mudcub

The boy was talking.

"I love these fist mitt things. They're... like... *flat*. And connected
right to the chair. Which I didn't expect."

Normally, I hate it when a bottom talks during a scene. But this boy and I
had a history. And I knew that soon wouldn't be talking at all. So I let
him drone on and on.

"I mean, the whole chair," the boy was saying. "I saw photos of it back
when I was a teenager." There was a blessed pause for a few seconds. And
then, "Those were some of the first photos I ever jacked off to."

My back was to the boy. I was fiddling with some last-minute stuff on the
adjacent table. I purposefully blocked the boy's view of what I was doing.
Plus, I didn't want him to see the huge erection I was already sporting.

"Mmm-hmm?" I grunted non-committally. The boy took this as permission to
continue.

"I used to tie myself up when I was a kid," he said. "But, you know, it's
not the same."

Oh I agreed indeed, and said so out loud. It's not the same.

I walked around the back of the chair and ordered the boy. "Breathe out."
He did.

I yanked each thick leather strap a notch tighter. They would go another
notch even tighter still, but not quite yet. Each pull of a belt caused
air to WHOOSH out of the boy's lungs. And for a bit, he stopped
blathering.

I counted the straps from behind. Belts holding the boy's forearms to the
arms of the chair. More belts at the crook of the elbow, lower bicep, and
upper bicep right under a sweat-soaked armpit. An "X" across the chest,
wide enough to still allow access to the nipples. Belts at the belly,
under the tits, and at the neck. That one is a bit scary for some boys,
since it cuts off air unless the boy sits perfectly still with his head
stretched upwards, gasping for breath. I love that strap. Muscles
straining between the belts, a bit of fear, and quite a bit of discomfort
already. But I knew it would get worse.

"I thought about making a chair like this," the boy was saying. "And I
even drew up plans."

"Hold still," I said in reply, setting the back of the boy's head into a
thick leather cushion.

"I guess I never had time to make one," the boy explained, holding still.
"Plus, I don't know where I'd put it."

"Ah," I agreed. I was fussing with the head harness. This part is tricky.
One belt goes under the chin, holding the head up and back against the
headrest. But too tight and the boy's mouth wouldn't be able to open.
Instead, I tightened the straps that went over the boy's nose and the
thick one at the forehead. I love that one, though it can give you a
headache if it's on too long.

"Open your mouth," I commanded, and the boy did so. Good range of motion,
so I left the belts around the head as they were.

The boy started talking again. "But thanks for letting me come over," he
said. "I've been having a pretty bad week, and I needed to let off some
energy."

Oh is that what we're doing? I thought. Letting off energy? I finished
with the legs. Two thick leather bands kept the boy's legs strapped to the
chair, and spread apart for easy access to his balls. The boy's dick was
semi-hard - probably partly from excitement, and partly from being a
little scared. The boy has nice calves, and the leather straps at the knee
and ankles showed off his muscles nicely. The leather boots the boy was
wearing were actually part of the chair... I nailed an old pair to the
baseboard. With all the legs straps on and the boots laced up, the boy
couldn't move his feet one inch to the left or right, much less up or
down.

I stood up to look at my work. The boy was helpless. I've been in my chair
many time, and I can tell you what an amazingly comfortably feeling it is.
You can't move at all, and yet nothing is painful or pinching. You want to
stay in it forever. That is, until the pain starts, and you really want to
get out. To me, that's when being a pushy bottom stops and true bondage
starts.

"Mmm," said the boy, enjoying himself. I sat on the boy's lap, and ran my
hands over the tight leather straps and the boy's skin that poked out
between them. I knew my two hundred pounds were probably crushing his
legs, but I wanted the boy to know I was there. "Mmmm," the boy said
again.

I pinched a nipple between two fingers. "Urpmh!" the boy yelped suddenly.
But I didn't see any movement at all against the bonds. Great. I pinched
the other nipple. I couldn't leave them asymmetrical. "Oofth!" the boy
replied.

I moved my hands all over the boy's body. I could feel his dick stiffen
underneath my ass, even through the leather jeans I was wearing. The boy
loves bondage, and he loves to feel helpless. When I rubbed him all over,
occasionally stopping to punch his arm or slap his cheek, I knew that I
was pushing all of his major buttons. So it was time to go further.

I got up and stood over the boy. Sure enough, poking up from the base of
the chair was the boy's hard dick. Damn, I wish I'd remember to insert the
buttplug on the seat before I made the boy sit down. That way, the boy
would be impaled right now, his dick bobbing in the warm air of my
dungeon, every twitch of the boy's ass squeezing the plug against his own
prostate. But I had forgotten. Oh well... there was a locked hatch
underneath the seat of the chair. Maybe later I'd open up the hole and
stick something up the boy later.

But for now, I rubbed my hands all over the boy's face. I knew my gloves
probably smelled really nice. Cigar smoke from the Robusto I had last
night. Leather and oil and... something else? The boy closed his eyes as
his nose breathed in the aroma from my well-worn gloves. They smelled like
a man. Like horsesweat and wood and coal dust. Like blood and tar and hay.
The boy's mouth opened up slightly... man he's such a pig. He's just
begging from me to stick my whole hand down his throat.

Instead, I rubbed my hands all over the boy's face. Over his eyes. In his
ears. I stuck two fingers up the boy's nose... one up each nostril and
pulled. I liked the look of sudden terror in the boy's eyes as they filled
with a little bit of tears. I know that hurts. I pinched an earlobe, just
to see if I could make his eyes water some more. And then pinched the boys
nose shut.

Oh, I love this game. The boy was completely helpless. One glove over the
boy's mouth, and one pinching his nose shut, and all air is cut off, just
as efficiently as a noose around his neck. I kept them there until I say
the boy struggling. Of course with all those belts and leather around his
skull, the boy's head couldn't even move a fraction of an inch to either
side. I saw the boy start huffing and puffing underneath my glove, as he
managed to suck a little air from around the seal.

I let both of my hand drop and the boy gasped for air loudly. "Uhhhnf!" he
said, his chest heaving mightily against the tight leather strap around
his chest, the muscles in his neck trying to get more air around the belt
holding his head up. I did the trick again. And then again, a little
longer each time.

It's amazing to hear the muffled scream someone makes when they have no
air to scream with.

I love the power of this kind of play. If I was a psycho, which I am not,
a few more seconds of pressure and the boy would pass out. A few more and
he would die. The boy's life is literally underneath my hands. It's
amazing that the boy trusts me enough to play like this. Sure, he
struggles a lot, and I know he doesn't like not being able to breath. But
every time, I see his eyes close in a form of submission, and his entire
body *relaxes*. I mean, I'm about to torture him, to deprive him of air
and almost kill him, and instead, he prepares himself mentally and "goes
along for the ride". Each and every time. As I said, he's a good boy.

The boy deserved a reward, so I stepped away from the chair and back to
the table. Behind me, I could hear the boy still breathing heavily.
"Thank..," pant pant, "You..." pant pant, "Sir," he gasped out. I removed
my leather gloves and dropped them on the table, picking up a pair of
rubber gloves.

Yeah, I'm a drama queen. I love the showmanship of BDSM. I didn't need to
switch gloves, and didn't need the boy to watch me do it. But I liked the
way it separated the scene into two parts: what we just did, and what we
are going to do. I put the gloves on one finger at a time, and let the boy
hear the loud SNAP of the rubber as each finger fit into place. I was
hoping he'd be a bit nervous, wondering what I was up to. We had never
played this way before. Not until tonight.

I stepped behind the boy so he couldn't see me. I ran my fingers all over
the boy's face, as if I was a blind man trying to memorize his features. I
slapped the boy's cheeks several times, hard enough to bring some color
into them. I pinched them to make sure. Then, I stuck one into the boy's
mouth, and he sucked on it like a calf to an udder. Greedy little piggy.

Then two fingers, and then three. The boy knows this game. It starts out
fun, like sucking on a big dick. Soon, I will pull apart his mouth with
both hands like a big old "Goatse". I won't rip his lips off or make him
bleed, but it will feel like it. It hurts A LOT. I love to run my
rubber-gloved fingers all over the inside of the boy's mouth: under his
tongue, between his gums and his cheeks. The boy closes his eyes, and
loses track of all the sensations... fingers tickling the roof of his
mouth at the same time two fingers pinch his tongue severely, pulling it
out and down. I'm trying to overload the boy with sensations. I'm also
having a hell of a lot of fun just feeling every part of the boy's mouth,
and seeing if I can make him squirm or flinch from pain. It's amazing how
painful it feels to dig a thumbnail into someone's gums.

I was rock-hard at this point, and in danger of letting my boner make me
do bad things. I was wondering where my dental set was: scary hooked metal
picks that quickly cause the boy's mouth to bleed. Electric vibrators that
feel like someone is drilling into your root canal without novocaine. It's
amazing how scared some bottoms can get when they taste their own blood
and see it come pooling out of their mouth, down their chin, and all over
their chest. It makes a mess. And it's really a mindfuck for anyone with a
phobia of dentists.

I snapped out of it. No blood. That's not why we were here today. But
there *will* be some amateur dentistry soon. Oh yes.

I went back to the table, leaving the boy stunned behind me. His eyes
closed, his mouth open and drooling. I picked up something I got in the
mail the week before... a small can of a pinkish, play-dough-looking
substance. Plastalgin alginate. Used for making dental molds. When exposed
to air, this stuff will set quickly. So I knew I had to be fast about it.

I tied a bib around the boy's neck. So sense getting any of that plastic
crap all over my leather straps. It's really hard to clean off. I wish I
had one of those bright lights to shine into the boy's eyes at a time like
this. It would allow me to see what I was doing. Plus it would give off
that that "police interrogation" vibe that's really sexy. I made a mental
note to check out ebay for used medical equipment.

I was still hard. And I was happy. I realized I was humming to myself. I
told the boy, "Open you mouth wide. But don't swallow." Though the stuff
is non-toxic, I didn't want any to go down the boy's windpipe. With him
heavily restrained like he was, there was a risk of injury, or worse,
death. But I knew this boy was smart and followed directions. I looked
down at my victim, his mouth as wide open as the chin strap allowed, his
eyes gazing up at me like a lost puppy, and I was flooded with love for
the boy. Or something like love. I decided the move quickly.

I opened the can and heard it go "whoosh" as air hit it. I scooped out a
semi-large handful of the pink goo, and smashed it into the boy's mouth. I
got another handful and mashed it in further. And then a third. That was a
good base to start. I stuck my fingers in the boy's mouth, and felt the
stuff starting to get hard already. Wow! I moved my fingers all over the
boy's upper teeth, and then his lower, making sure there weren't any air
pockets. I repeated the process several times, until the boy's cheeks
pouched out like a chipmunk, and the boy could barely keep his lips shut
from the pink slime dripping out of it.

Two minutes now and the stuff fully sets up by five. I noted that the boy
was breathing fine through his nose. I massaged the boy's cheeks from the
outside, and I saw the strain the boy's face as he struggled to hold all
the plastic in. He was really sweating now. I bet the stuff tasted
terrible. It was under his tongue, and up into the roof of his mouth, and
as far back as the back of his throat. Four minutes... and then five! I
told the boy to open his mouth, and smiled as I he realized he couldn't.
The plastinate not only holds the mouth open, but since it is in the crack
and crevices of each tooth, it effectively bonds the mouth together. At
least temporarily. Since it's rubbery, it can easily be dislodged.

I undid the leather chinstrap, but remembered what hole it was at when it
was tight. The boy's eyes looked at me with a bit of gratitude. If only he
knew what was next. I needed to dislodge the huge hunk of pink rubber in
the boy's mouth. And what better way to do that than with some pressure? I
smacked the boy. Not as hard as I could, but hard enough. "Grnnnmpf!" he
yelled. I smacked him again. And again. Two from each side. And sure
enough, when I asked the boy to open his mouth, his jaws popped open.

A nice trick, but not one that your dentist will probably recreate.

I stuck two fingers into the boy's mouth and tugged the new mouth gag
free. "Pwet... pew... blahhck.... errrp." The boy said, spitting out the
remains of the foul-tasting rubber. I looked at the mold that I had made.
Pretty good. A few marks and holes from trapped air bubbles. A real
dentist would use this to create dentures or bridges or any other piece of
hardware. But for me, it was good enough. Or, it would be after I modified
it some.

I picked up a huge drill, a wicked-looking woodworking powertool. It has a
drill that's about six inches long, with a nasty flanged metal piece at
the end that looks like the head of an axe. I approached the boy with it,
and saw his eyes grow wide. I laughed out loud... just another but of
theater. The drill is for the gag, not the boy. I clamped the rubber but
to the table, and with one slow careful motion, I made a one and a half
inch diameter hole all the way through the gag.

A good job. Not off center. From the front part at the lips all the way to
the back, a rough tunnel was created. I stuck my finger through the hole
to clear out any stray rubber particles, and blew through it. By now, I
knew the boy was getting the idea.

Boom, the gag goes back in. And then the chin strap. The boy's mouth is
completely filled with soft chewy rubber. And I mean completely filled...
every gap between his teeth, every hollow in his cheeks and mouth
stretched painfully outward. But now I can see all the way down to the
back of his throat. For this next part, I walk all the way around the
chair and tighten each strap one more notch. This causes a lot more,
"Mmmggg" and "Nnnnfff" noises from the boy in the chair. And they we're
ready to begin.

I test the length of the gag by sticking my middle finger into the tunnel.
Not bad, I can tickle his uvula, the part that dangles down the back of
his throat. This, of course, makes the boy gag, and I love seeing the way
his face turns purple. His body wants to convulse, to bend in half, or at
least squirm away from my tickling finger, but the boy can't go anywhere.
I do this a few more times, until the boy makes a delicious noise like
he's going to puke.

I wonder what the boy had for breakfast. Shall we find out?

No... no today. That would be a punishment scene for this boy, and maybe
we'll do that another day. I'm definitely keeping this gag on hand, and
we're definitely using it again and again. I keeping playing with my
fingers down the boy's throat, noticing that he's had his tonsils removed.
I'm amazed at the way the large tastebuds at the base of the tongue feels
so different than the ones at the front. I wonder if I could shove a
feeding tube down the boy's throat while he was like this. Or a breathing
tube. And all this torture, the complete submission and helplessness of
the boy, has my dick rock hard. And you know what's next.

ZIP. With a practiced move, and a few seconds work, I kick off my leather
boots, and step out of my leather pants. No underwear on, so the boy can
see my fully-erect dick. I tug on it a few times, letting the boy see the
pearl of pre-cum already oozing from my pee slit. Oh yeah, he's gonna
taste that. I'll rub my precum all over the boy's face. I notice he has an
erection of his own; a hard throbbing dick, turning dark red from the
frustration and lack of stimulation it's been getting. Maybe I'll jack him
off slowly later. But right now is for my own pleasure.

The chair has step on each side. And I can slide my bare feet under the
arm of each chair, between the seat and the arms where the boy is tied. I
can stand up and my crotch is at the same exact height as the boy's face.
It's not really comfortable, but in a few seconds I'll be feeling so much
pleasure I won't notice the uncomfortable position.

Have you ever fucked a fleshlight? This feeling is like that. I feel the
head of my dick slide into the pink rubber of the gag. I close my eyes and
shudder as I feel the slick length of my penis rubbing against the walls
of the gag. I can feel the heat of the boy's mouth. But best of all, no
teeth! And then as I continue to thrust, the head of my dick pops through
the other side, and all of a sudden I feel the perfect warmth of the moist
tissues of the boy's throat.

I pull out and shove back in again. The feeling is indescribable. Unlike a
fleshlight, I can hold onto the boy's head. My hands are pulling on each
of his ears as I'm roughly fucking the boy's face. Drool is slopping out
the mouth hole, and every time I shove my dick as far as it can go I can
feel my dick hit the back of the boy's throat. He makes a loud,
"Auuuuuaaah" noise at the bottom of every stroke. My pubic hair is
grinding into the boy's nose, and I know he can't breathe very well. I
"holster" my dick by shoving it into the gag as far as it can go and
holding it there. For a count of ten or so. I feel the boy trying to
squirm under all those leather straps.

He's screaming, but I can't hear much. There's a high-pitched whine from
the boy's chest, but no noise is getting around my dick. I know he can't
breathe, but there's nothing he can do to stop me. I pull all the way out,
and I hear the boy retching through the hole in the gag. Ah, there's no
lube that's as good as stomach phlegm. I'm serious. The stuff is slick and
never dries out. They should bottle it somehow. I get excited and fuck the
boy's face some more.

I feel a little bad that I'm treating the boy so roughly. I mean I start
SLAMMING into his skull, my dick going a good two inches past his uvula.
But I'm in such rapture, I stop paying attention to the boy's needs or
wants. He's just an object for me to use. But he'll be ok. Anybody can put
up with anything for a few minutes. And I feel the orgasm start at the
base of my balls, and I know that I'll only last a few minutes, a few more
strokes in and out...

It's like running up a hill for me. My climax grows and grows and soon
it's gaining speed, but not speed DOWNWARDS, but UPWARDS, like there's a
cliff at the top of the hill. My dick is even harder now, as if that was
possible, and I'm jackhammering the boy's throat like I was a rabbit, just
pistoning in and out and the rubber feels so good, and the gag with no
teeth, just warmth and all that goo and spit and fluid pouring out or the
poor boy's mouth and down his chin, I mean the boy is a REAL MESS, but I
just use the mucus to keeping OH GOD frictionless and hot and it's
building and OH FUCK my dick pounding in and out and I'm running to the
edge of the cliff and up and over, and I'm pulsing and OH MY FUCK. OH
AAAAAH. FUCK FUCK. God, that shit is good... FUCK

Ropes of cum are shooting out of my penis, and I'm just grabbing onto the
boy's head so I don't fall over, and even though I'm slamming my dick so
far down the back of the boy's throat I'm sure my cum is going right into
his stomach I'm still surprised that there is jism EVERYWHERE. As I pull
out of the boy's mouth, I'm still shooting, and there's a wad all over the
boy's cheek, and on the TOP of the boy's head in a puddle (how'd THAT get
there?) and the boy is still gagging and retching, and I'm wiping the head
of my dick all over the boy's chin and nose, and wherever I want to. Just
using the boy as a towel.

With a sigh, I get down off the chair. I look at the boy, and CHRIST, he's
still hard. Every with all that abuse, his own penis is still pointing up,
although the boy is covered with so much stuff I can't tell if he's
pre-cumming or if that's my own spooge that's all over him.

But I feel good. Drained. And slightly tired. But I'm in a charitable
mood. I still have a half can of that plastic molding stuff. And I know
it's not going to be any good tomorrow. Maybe I should slather it around
the boy's hard dick, and make a mold of his little hard penis. Or, maybe I
should undo that trap door and get under the bondage chair and play with
some boy butt. I wonder if I shove the rest of the plastinate into his
hole, I could make a perfect model of the boy's rectum. At the very least
I know it would fill him up, like the world most perfect buttplug. Hrm, so
many things to try. But with the boy still gagged, he's not complaining.
Maybe I should leave him there in the chair all night and decide in the
morning. Maybe I should.