Part I - Stay sharp. Keep with it. Don't panic.
The broad leather posture collar locked around his neck held his head up high and his chin out, stood to attention just about, but it also prevented him looking down at his tortured dick. Feverishly licking his dry lips, as much as the collar allowed him to open his mouth to do this, and twisting slightly, trying to relieve the tension in his arms, wrists fastened high above him and taking most of his weight, he tried to imagine what his dick looked like.
Certainly it felt swollen from the abuse it had taken over the last few hours, and his balls felt raw. He grunted a little as he again tried to ease the pain in his arms. As he did so, his body turning in its suspension, he felt his roped up dick and balls drag under the weight hanging from them. They felt stuck out and separate from his body, and were definitely getting more than their fair share of attention today - but then he knew why that was.
In his mind's eye he tried to piece together what had been done to them; it was frustrating being able to see everything in the room, but not simply look down and see his own manhood. His own? Well, yes and no really. Early on he'd felt himself cringe as a cold steel ball weight had been fixed around his freshly shaved balls. But he had lost track somewhere along the way, someplace between the waves of unimaginable pleasure as the tip of his dick had been slicked with lube and rubbed relentlessly in circles in his Owner's palm and the massive jolts of pain as his balls had been covered in deep-heat and paddled. He made his body swing a little more, trying to find some way to feel if the ball weight, long since heated to his body temperature, was still there.
He felt sure it was; he thought he perhaps felt the smooth surface of it against his thigh, but he couldn't be sure. The rest was a little clearer. After the catheter had gone in, which he'd been made to buy himself and bring along and that still was causing his dick some discomfort, unaccustomed as it was to being stuffed full of rubber, he'd had rope wrapped tightly around the base of his dick and behind his balls. This was what was making everything feel awkwardly stuck out.
The catheter going in had marked the end of the mostly pleasurable things done to him; from then on in his dick seemed cumbersome and in the way and had been slapped and lashed out at with a crop several times. For the moment he was happy enough just to have the opportunity to worry about other aspects of his situation, rather than the frantic, but useless, attempts at escaping the blows which left him no time to react to the waves of pain let alone anything else.
This was his quiet time, a moment or two to compose himself, so he thought, but as the minutes ticked by he grew to realise that he was being left to anticipate what was coming; to let him build it up in his mind, at once nervous and unsure, and then excited and impatient. At first one flavour of desperation, wondering how he ever talked himself round to this, his mind racing trying to figure a way out, and then his thoughts falling over themselves as he struggled to take in how close he was to realizing his deepest, and most heartfelt ambitions. His dick, tied and abused as it was twitched stiffer around the catheter as he, for the first time, allowed his eyes to look over at the table to the right in front of him.
He knew what was there, he had been told what was involved but he had kept himself from looking before, partly he was afraid to, but mostly he didn't quite believe what was going to happen, after all these months of wanting it, if he looked over and saw it wasn't true he'd feel disappointed. If he didn't look then the fantasy could go on that little bit longer.
But now he did look.
His heart nearly stopped. In what must have been only a couple of seconds, his eyes had raced over everything he saw, taking in detail, and shape, and texture and form. As far as he could tell, it was all exactly as he'd been told to expect it. Several pieces of heavy gauge rubber; he counted seven different items but there may have been more. He could definitely make out at least one full body suit that looked like it covered everything judging from the hood portion he could see. Another piece he couldn't work out had a sort of wide belt part as though it formed the top of a pair of chaps, but then didn't look long enough. A buddle of straps and laces he took to be a hood, but beyond that he couldn't tell what it looked like.
The rest was just buckles, zippers and formed sections of rubber that he was trying to figure out where they would fit when the door opened.
His concentration was snapped back to his suspended aching body, and somewhere in the back of his mind he flicked through to the roughly sketched out sequence of events that he'd jerked off to dozens of times in the days leading up to this one.
That fantasy now railroaded into the very real here and now, actually him tied there, waiting, being made to wait, forced to anticipate what his own mind had once conjured up, that he'd cum time and time again over, but now he was held back from doing just that, held back because it was now about to happen to him like it or not.
Again, his mind on fast-forward reviewing each aspect of the scenario he had built up, reviewing in anticipation for the last time. It was then, just at the moment that he freeze-framed. He stuck on the one part that he'd been unsure about, uncertain he could handle.
At this he struggled. He fought. He twisted, and jerked his neck painfully as he tried to move his head to take in more of the room looking for the one item he now feared the most.
The heavy, black, all uncasing rubber on the table that was to become part of him, moulded onto him, making him into the rubber slave he knew he always wanted to be, vanished from his vision as he searched for what he hoped would be the one part of this that wasn't going to be true.
He couldn't see, but he couldn't see the whole room. His Owner was coming towards him, he twisted back facing him, forced by the collar to meet his gaze, now too close to see anything below the man's chest. Fuck, he had to be holding it, but now he couldn't see. Why the fuck hadn't he looked when the door opened to see if he had it? Because he and his dick and his hormones had been too busy drooling over the rubber. Because he'd been stupid enough to get himself here and in this mess, because he knew for sure that after all those times jerking off to this, he wouldn't be able to stand the reality.
But now he was fucked. He was stuck here, and the consequences were about to hit him right in the face and he'd have no other option but to take it and somehow, fuck knows how, deal with it. But how the fuck could he do that?
Faced with the rubber he could still see from his eye corner, that was soon to become his prison, the forged innocence of the smile across his Owner's face, and the sure and painfully present knowledge that he was about to cum for the very last time.
As if on cue, he felt metal on his skin again and knew in a moment as his heart raced and his head swam, that this metal that his Owner held now in his hands would in a few moments, after a massively pleasurable orgasm, be wrapped around his waist, his dick fed into it, catheter and all, and locked for good.
With his brain pulsing, thudding, blood rushing, mouth and throat gone instantly dry with fear, something inside him snapped - he began to cry. He was only minutes away from realising his dreams and the best orgasm of his life, but he was afraid.
His rubber prison awaited, his metal chastity beckoned. Milo no longer, Prisoner 363430 ready for its treatment now Sir.