Enforced Endurance 4: Caught in Her Web

Part 4: Caught in Her Web

Yes, she was going to get him fixed up real good for bed! And she had. He’d drunk the Gatorade, taken care of his bathroom business, showered, drunk more water with vitamins, and more Gatorade to replenish and re-hydrate after the incredible 21-hour chair mummification ordeal. Wife-Mistress had informed him he was on a liquid diet regimen for the duration of the ultimate bondage marathon weekend she had planned, so he was duly diapered, with extra-absorbency pads also stuffed in.

He was also duly bound, wrapped and fastened-down to the hilt. Wifey was amazingly thorough in her new strict Mistress mode! Bondage over-kill wasn’t too much for her! He was absolutely immovably trapped and helpless in her roped web on the big brass bed,  his stretched limbs rigidly splinted, widely spread-eagled and secured to the four corners. He wore his light neoprene-rubber wetsuit with a tightly-laced corset-girdle on the outside. His hands were gloved and his stockinged feet were held in strict en-pointe position by the new tightly-laced-up patent-leather knee-high ballet or toe-boots.

Everything was as tight as possible! He tried again, and could not move one iota! She’d said “You like it strict and tight, that’s what you’ll get!” That was for sure! He wore rigid Velcro-fastened full-leg braces, fastened over the boots. His arms were multiple tube-sock sheathed over the padded board-splints from finger-tips to near-armpits, wrapped round and round multiple times with sticky drywall mesh tape until they were all-white, fiberglass-casted. They were fastened down to the outside bedpost corners. Similarly, his legs were wrapped/ casted from his crotch on down, even right to his pointed toes! His long legs were splayed out widely on the full-size bed, his super-long, tied-down heels jutted off the edges at the corners. His feet were locked straight down, causing occasional calf and foot –cramping. His moans got no sympathy from Mistress-wife as she went about her business.

On his head was the heavy black latex blow-up hood, fully-inflated, tightly encasing his entire head and neck under a white padded rigid cervical collar. He wore the powdered silicone-rubber swim-cap underneath, which aided in sliding the  tight hood down over his head, avoiding pulling hairs. Maximum sound-blocking expandable foam earplugs sealed his ears. The hard rubber gag filled his mouth, his lips sealed around it. He breathed through the hood’s long, narrow mouth tube. His nose was smushed down by the pressurized latex. Fully-occluded again, pitch-black and sweaty! He had gotten a brief glimpse of the dawn, only to be put back in total darkness again.

The first long rope started at his left wrist, pulling his arm tightly up and down, going down around the bedpost and up and back to his wrist, then pulled across the top of the mattress over to his right wrist, around and around, down and up the post, back to the wrist, then drawn down to his leather ankle cuff through the metal rings, down and around the bedpost and back to the cuff, then tightly over to the left ankle cuff and repeated, then pulled tautly up the side of the bed to his left wrist and the post, completing the connection. This was done all over again with more ropes, all further reinforcing his immobility, then more ropes from opposite wrists to ankles, crisscrossing his body tautly.

Around his waist was the wide leather bondage-belt with steel rings attached. Ropes were tightly drawn through the rings from one side to the other under the bed and back under again to the other. Then more rope connected all the fastening points and other ropes across, up and down, back and forth, crisscrossing, cinching and anchoring him down completely immovably in her intricate web. She kept going, applying hundreds and hundreds of feet, like an obsessive spider-woman, bundling up her prey. She even tied down his 8” heels, pulling the ropes down, then back up around the fiberglass mesh tape-wrapped toes of the boots, and back down to the bed frame! Finally, she tied the last knot.

He was amazed at her thoroughness and obsessiveness. It was a long, elaborate process! He moaned as he tried to move or flex, and he absolutely could not move any which way! Wow!! His cock was hard in its tight, padded confines. There was no give anywhere! He was a rigid X-man to the extreme! This will take a long time to get out of! he thinks. She has really  out-done herself! He couldn’t lift or move his head in the slightest with the snug, tall, semi-rigid cervical collar and fully-inflated hood. The bent inflation bladder stuck out at the top/ back of his balloon-head. She had even looped rope around the bottom of the thick breathing tube, cinched down to the side ropes! A few more lengths ran across his collar also.

“There Mumman!” she pronounces. “You’ve never been done up like that before!” He murmurs agreement through the long tube. “You are trapped in my web for as long as I wish! You can’t move a damn muscle! I know you’re enjoying it now, but what about in a few hours?? I’m going to get breakfast and maybe catch a little more sleep downstairs!” She tries to rub his cock under the crisscrossing ropes, trapped under the wetsuit, diaper and padding. He moans and tries to move his hips, but it’s impossible. “We both could use some more sleep! I do love those new ballet boots! Very sexy! I hope you’re not too uncomfortable in them!” He moans, feeling more cramping in his pointed feet. “Remember, this is only phase 2! And tomorrow’s (Monday) a holiday!” Oh my god he thought. “Yes, you’ll get your fill of bondage and then some! I have a lot of plans! Isn’t this fun?? Rest well, Mr. Mummy-man!” She turns up the surf-sounds machine very loudly, and she is gone.

He moans, but still has an erection. He’d love to get off! When would she allow it? The psycho-sexual tension and frustration is driving him nuts. How long would she keep him like this? Like a fly trapped and cocooned in a web! He had no idea she’d keep up the Mistress act this long! She was enjoying herself! What had he unleashed? He strained in the splints, wrap and rope, getting another calf and foot cramp for his efforts. ‘Oh shit that hurts! Damn it!’ His hot breaths come rapidly through the breathing tube and he hollers. The cramps finally abate. He can’t wiggle a finger or toe. He can’t wiggle at all! The spider-mistress has him in the web of webs! So intense! More sweat breaks out in the hot, heavy latex blow-up hood, pressuring every millimeter of his face and head. More sweat under the full neoprene sweat-suit.

He has a little tingling in his hands but with the splint pad and all the tube socks on, along with the solid fiberglass “casting”, he is well- cushioned and his circulation is good. Being so tautly stretched and splinted, he feels the initial shoulder, spinal and lower extremity discomfort. From experience, he knows it will lessen as his body adapts and acclimates. But for now, it’s rather uncomfortable. The ballet boots are new, though, and with his feet so rigidly pointed down, the occasional cramping is the worst part. He believes his feet and calves will eventually become accustomed to this severity and be OK, but when a cramp ensues, it’s torture!

Some fluid leaks from his hard cock and he wonders how long it will be before he feels the urge to pee in the padded diaper. He relaxes as best he can, swooning in the tightness and constriction, his utter inability to move any part of his body. He becomes more and more acclimated to the severe bondage and feels his muscles, ligaments and tendons relaxing and stretching. Saliva keeps coming up periodically to swallow, but he knows from past experience this will become less of an issue as he gradually dehydrates over the hours, allowing him to doze off for brief periods of light sleep. As he relaxes more his cock finally subsides and he gets into a regular breathing pattern. He hears absolutely nothing but his breathing, pulse and the sound machine. ‘Here we go again.’ It is sunny but he sees no light whatever. It’s going to be a hot day, near 90 degrees he remembers. More perspiration. Absolute, complete immobility.

After awhile, wife-spider-mistress comes up to see her captive. She sees he is quiet and breathing fine. She mischievously squeezes the end of the breathing tube, shutting off the air. He had no idea she was there and is panic-shocked! She keeps it clamped for a few more seconds, then he gasps for air. “Hey Mumman, I thought you’d like a little breath-play to break up the monotony! Now catch your breath and we can play some more!”

“Uuhhh!” he says.

She rubs his crotch and he is quickly hard. “Now take a deep breath!” He does and she squeezes the rubber tube shut. This is another first!! He tries to exhale after about 15 seconds but it’s still clamped. She finally lets go and he exhales, gasping for air and moaning. “OK, get your breath back!” She repeats this over and over again, for varying intervals. He gets nervous but rock hard. He is shocked at her, yet pleased that she is showing this creativity and interest! She keeps her other hand on his crotch. “You like this, huh?” She shuts off his air for about 30 seconds, letting go when she sees his distress. He gasps and moans and gets another foot cramp. Ow! “OK, enough for now, Mumman, but I’d like to do a little experiment! Some air restriction!” She clamps a clothespin about 2” down on the thick 10” breathing tube, narrowing the opening by about half. He feels the air restriction, but likes this game. “How’s that?” He moans through the gag-tube obtusely. “Make one sound for OK, two for not!” He makes one vocalization.

“OK, I’ll just stay here awhile and rub your cock until we’re sure you’re alright!” She rubs his cock area, watching him intently. She clamps the clothespin down a little bit more  but he shows no distress. She keeps rubbing and he keeps moaning and breathing hard. No release though, just more pre-cum. She is pretty satisfied that he is OK, and asks him. One sound. “OK, I’m going to shower, be back soon!” He actually likes this breathing restriction. He feels he is getting adequate air and his anxiety abates. After awhile she is back, startling him. “Still doing OK??” Yes, he grunts. She checks the tube. No change. “Good! I’d say we’re having fun now!” He agrees. She goes to get dressed. She returns. “Still OK? Alright! I’m going to the store now! You’d better be good!” He makes a noise, then she pats his black balloon-head. “See you later!”

As she goes he feels the crazy anxious excitement at being left helplessly alone again. This is really intense!! he thinks. He is more comfortable over-all, but with his quicker respiration, breathing feels more hampered. ‘It would help if I slowed down my breathing! I can’t believe she’s clipped my breathing tube! It’s already narrow as it is! But it’s enough air! I’m OK!’ He starts slowing his breathing rate and tries to move any part of his body. ‘The only thing moving is my cock  and my chest! I’m pinioned down like never before! What a weekend!!’ He again revels in his predicament, in total bondage rapture- wrapture!

His longest splinted, spread-eagled duration on the bed was 4 ½ to 5 hours, but it wasn’t this strict and severe, with breath-play to boot! Speaking of boots, the tight ballet boots exerted constant pressure on his feet, wrapped and tied-down. The cramping had lessened and he hoped the worst of that was over. The ropes through the rings of the tight bondage belt going under the bed and those fastened to it up and down in the web, were incredibly tight, as they all were! What immobilization extreme!! It was like a dream! As the bondage- time dragged on, he was able to get more and more relaxed and resigned to it for long-term. He was used to the breathing restriction. He was salivating less now, so not having to swallow as much. The fat rubber gag filled his mouth pretty well, trapping his tongue down. He had the first urge of having to pee. He’d certainly drunk plenty of Gatorade and water! As time passed the bladder pressure started pre-occupying him. He was reluctant to let it go.

Finally, Mistress-wife was back, at the bedside to check on him. “Hey Mumman!” He was quite startled. “Doing good I see! Have you peed yet?” She pressed on his bladder area, getting a loud response. “It’s OK, you shouldn’t leak! But you know I’ve got all these big absorbent pads under you!” She pressed down hard, repeatedly, bouncing him as he moaned. He tried to ask the time but she wouldn’t oblige him “Never mind the time! Let’s just say a lot of time has passed, but not nearly enough! Boy it’s hot out there now, and up here!” He agreed He was definitely feeling it! “You’d probably like me to turn on the air-conditioner, but too bad! Well, maybe later. Well, Mumman-dear, I’ve got some lunch, but not for you! Remember your liquid bondage diet this weekend! Maybe later I’ll give you something with the dropper down your tube like I did before, if you promise not to choke on it!”

“Uh-huh!”

“We’ll see. Why don’t you try to have a little nap, dea- , er, Mumman?” She pressed down on his crotch, bouncing and exciting him. “See you later!” She left and he breathed faster for awhile, feeling the restriction more. The urge to piss was over-whelming him yet he still felt reluctant to piss in bed! Now the more he had to go, the harder his dick got! It was rigidly hard, and now that he tried to piss, it wouldn’t come out! Oh, more torture! His cock throbbed and his bladder burned. No release. He tried to relax but still it went on and on. He moaned in frustration. It had to come out! After a considerably long, uncomfortable period, finally a trickle began. Then it finally burst out full-stream. AAHHH! It was like an ejaculation! Wow! The hot piss-cum rapidly filled his tight crotch region through the absorbent padding added to the  thickly-padded disposable diaper. It kept coming and spurting until he squeezed out the last of it.  How do you spell relief? P-I-S-S!  He felt the diaper was completely soaked and  saturated! It felt weird but he  felt great! Now he laid there all hot and sweaty and pissy. How much longer? he wondered. Wife-spider-mistress was tough and strict!! What a fuckin’ trip!!

He lay there in exhausted bondage la-la land, eventually relaxing in his rigified state, trying to flex and will away tensions here and there. His saliva was drying up and he could try to relax enough to get some light sleep. He repeated his  calming mantra over and over: calm, clear, cool, centered and collected, and slowed his breathing down. He was so exhausted. He was so fucked! He meditated, thought good thoughts and sort of drifted along, sleep still elusive. Much time went by. This 100% immobilizing spread-eagled position that didn’t even allow for wiggles was tough! He remembered the last time he saw on the clock before he pulled the hood over his face after zipping and lacing the boots up: 6:35. The cervical collar was fixed tightly on and she blew up the hood with her hot breath, sealing her mouth tightly over the open valve until she could inflate it no more, quickly closing it as the air tried to hiss out. Her very breath was pressurizing his head in the hood! Then he knelt on the bed as she hooked and laced-up the corset-girdle. Then  she began applying the arm and leg splints. So he guessed he was all splinted up and the roping-down began around 7:00. Now she was playing the you-don’t-need to-know-the-time game again! Frustrating. The sound machine droned on. He was near-sleep.

Suddenly she was there, flicking his latex balloon-head loudly, startling the crap out of him. “How ya doin’ there, Mr. Lazy?  Layin’ around in bed all day! I bet you’d like to get up?!”

“Uh-HUH!”

“Sorry, but I brought you a treat!” He moans pathetically. “I got more orange Gatorade for you! As we’ve done before, I’ll drip it into your mouth tube with the dropper. You tell me when you’re ready to hold your breath so I can squeeze in a dropper-full at a time! Then swallow very carefully! No choking!” He makes a noise and she releases the full dropper of liquid into the long tube. Coming out at the back of his tongue, he can hardly taste it. He carefully swallows and the procedure is repeated over and over again until he signals enough. “There! You’re re-hydrated, and I’ll leave the clothespin off your breathing tube. Aren’t I nice? I’ll even rub your cock! Oh, you went pee-pee? You didn’t leak! Good boy!” She scratched at his sensitive nipples, arousing him. “Hmmm, I wonder if I could pinch your stretched-out titties enough under that suit to put your nipple-clamps on them?” He liked nipple-clamping, but wasn’t so sure about now! She pinched and pulled and clamped one on. Ow! She did the same with the other. A turn-on for now, but for how long? he wondered. He moaned. “There! You’re all set!! Now I’ll even turn on the air-conditioner for you! You’ll be all set for maybe a few more hours??”

“UH-UH!”

“Well, I think UH-HUH!, Mr. Mumman! It’s all up to me! There’s absolutely nothing you can do about it! Now be good!” She turns the sound machine up loudly and goes downstairs. He hollers out in vain. He frustratedly  struggles in the bondage fix of his life. He’d rather be back in the chair! His struggles are quite unnoticeable. He has discomforts here and there, and another cramp. He knows his nipples will be burning soon! His pointed feet especially are sore in the crushing ballet boots. How could he endure more hours like this?? Because it wasn’t up to him, pure and simple! More bondage over-dose for the junkie!

He remembered last night when she gave him the warning, but Mr. Bondage Freak wanted more! But she played the Bondage Mistress card too well. He had to go there to see what would happen. Now here he was in the middle of a sweltering day, stuck again in this ultra-marathon session! How would he ever get some sleep? Out of pure exhaustion, he reckoned, like last night. Much time passed before he wound down  to the state of resigned exhaustion and relaxation he was in before she came up earlier. He felt more numb now than sore, except for his clamped nipples! Now he again felt the masochistic thrill of total bondage in his state of ultra-rigidity and black sensory deprivation. He was sensory-deprived, movement-deprived, sleep-deprived, time-deprived, food-deprived, sex-deprived. Quite fucked, he was! He breathed easier now, lingering on in semi-consciousness, occasionally dozing lightly. He imagined his wife morphing into an implacable Monster-Mistress, a cruel spider-creature toying with and tormenting him in her big web. There was no escape. Then he was being cocooned, being turned over and over, spun in white silky threads, layer after layer--

He woke up disoriented, to his own ultra-bondage dream/ nightmare of unrelenting tightness and enforced rigid paralyzation. This was the “and then some!” she had promised! He’d had his fill! He really wanted out! His nipples burned! Suddenly the tight clamps were pulled off ! He hollered, feeling the inevitable searing pain of the removal. She patted his painful breasts. “There, there, Mumman. Enough titty torture! ‘Bye for now! Other things to tend to!” He moaned questioningly, but she had left. At least my titties can recover now he thought. She’s really a trip! Much more time passed, his mind and body numb from bondage over-load.  Long-term ultra-bondage was a hell of a test. It was both rapturous and tormenting! Exhausting! He’d think he couldn’t take it any longer, but guess what, he could! He’d given her total control and now it was up to her to define his limits! The outer limits! This was so damn extreme! Mind-warping! Extreme lockdown, extreme duration! Where was she?? What was she doing?? What was she thinking?? What the hell was next?? What’s phase 3??
 
Boy, she had him going, and going nowhere!! Now it was a quite extended period with her absence. What a mind-fuck!! No sense of time, no movement, no time limits, no release! What a number she was doing on him! How many hours now?! He was over-whelmed and over-powered physically and psychically. Her will triumphed, his meant nothing now! His psychology was flipping. He had to bend to her will, had to submit, had to give in! He felt as if his mind had snapped, he was cracking, that what he thought and wanted didn’t really matter anymore! He was a subservient, a bondage slave to her now! He’d lost his will-power. He’d lost all control! This woman, this dominating Mistress-wife ruled him, controlled his very existence!

He had an epiphany, a sudden illumination. Now he understood! He accepted his place. Between sessions she’d said, “I’ve taught you a little lesson, but we’re still operating by my rules!” He’d learned the big lesson now! It was her rules! That’s all that mattered now! Another lesson: watch out what you wish for sometimes, it may turn out to be more than you had bargained for! He marveled at her, was amazed by her. He felt a new kind of love and respect for her. This was blowing his mind! He felt he was right where he needed to be, where She’d put him, for whatever length of time She decided! It was OK! He was becoming a changed man! He laid there, happily in Her control, happily Her captive, happily unmovingly ultra-bound! Discomforts be damned!

Unbeknownst to him, she sits there, watching his breathing, listening to his occasional moans, admiring her handiwork. She is putting him to the test, the ultimate stringent bondage marathon test of his life. He had to learn a lesson, and keep learning it all night, and the next day! She was planning out phase 3 and beyond, surprised by her determination, resolve, creativity and toughness. Bondage Boy was sure shocked! This was indeed a whole new game, a whole new persona for her! She was enjoying it, enjoying  the game. He had sucked her into his fantasy, and she was playing it to the hilt! She looks at the clock. A little while longer----

22.11.09