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.