The Art of Escape by Tyjord Tyjord@hotmail.com (c) 2002 - Tyjord Justin emerged from the bathroom, his head covered by the towel he was using to dry off his hair. Otherwise naked, he walked into his bedroom, water still dripping from his freshly showered body. Pulling the towel from his head, he jumped back a step, not expecting to be greeted by his girlfriend sitting on his bed, facing the doorway. "Shit, Melissa, you scared the hell out of me." "Well hello to you too," she responded sarcastically. "I assumed it was okay to let myself in, since you did give me a key." "Of course it's ok," he said, still standing in the doorway. "I just wasn't expecting you. Aren't you supposed to be at work?" "I called and told them I'd be a little late. What's with the false modesty?" She pointed to his towel, which had now fallen, still in his hand, to cover his private parts. His face turned red as he realized that he must have automatically covered up when he first saw her. "Sorry, must have been reflex. You could have joined me in there if you wanted a better view." His blush fading, he dropped the towel and walked closer. "I could have," she said, taking in the sight of his well toned, smooth physique, 'but we don't have time to indulge right now. She stood up and reached out, giving his rapidly rising penis a quick squeeze. "Are you going to look for a job today?" He sighed deeply and sat down on the bed. "Do we have to go through this again? I like what I do and I have enough money to support myself. Besides, in two months I turn 21 and get full access to my trust fund." "I know. And I also know that you love what you do. But I want you to be sure this is right for you. You can't go on performing on the streets forever." He stood up and took her hands in his. "Baby, I'm not going to be on the streets forever. I'm the best young escape artist to come along in years, and sooner or later, somebody will discover me." She knew it was true. He was very good at his craft. That coupled with his charisma and good looks would eventually make him successful. "Okay, okay, no more hassles, I just want you to make sure that you don't get in to something over your head. I said I would support you in this and I will. In fact, I'm even willing to help." "You are?" Justin leapt up from the bed. He had almost given up on her being part of his chosen profession. "How," He asked skeptically. "Well, my naked stud boy," she said playfully, pushing him back down onto the bed. "I've already called Rick and told him you wouldn't be needing his help today. He seemed quite shocked when I mentioned that I would be helping you with your training." "I'll bet," the boy replied. "He didn't think you were interested either." "Of course I'm interested. I'm dating a young stud who likes to be tied up. Who wouldn't be interested?" Justin blushed at the kinky connotations of her remark. "It's not like that." "If you say so sweetie. Anyway, I told him I would help you today and that you would get with him on Monday to prepare for next weekend's shows." "So, how are you going to help me train?" "How do you think, silly boy, I'm going to tie you up," she said, a devilish grin spreading across her face. He stood up again. "I can get out of anything you put me in." The arrogance in his voice was apparent and deserved. Even his assistant, his cousin Rick, was having a hard time finding challenges for him. "Really," she asked, "then you're willing to let me do whatever I want?" "Sure," he responded, "I trust you. Just let me throw on some shorts and we can start." "Nope, no clothes. I don't want you to have access to any hidden tools of your trade. Besides, I like you this way." He blushed again but did not argue. "Okay, if that's what you want. So what's it going to be? Rope? Straightjacket? Chains?" He pointed to his closet that contained the various pieces of equipment used in his act. "I don't think any of those will do. Where's the challenge in me helping you with something you've done dozens of times?" With that, she stepped out of the bedroom, returning seconds later with a duffle bag that she had left by the front door. "I've got a gift for you. Some new equipment." He was all smiles as she unzipped the bag and removed some plain looking leather straps. "Now, we're doing this my way, so just do what I say. Clear?" "You bet, baby," he answered, barely able to contain his excitement. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back, palms together." He did as she said and felt a leather strap being buckled around his wrists, followed by another at his elbows, drawing his arms uncomfortably close. Next she had him open his clenched palms and proceeded to strap his open hands together as well. He wiggled his arms a bit, testing his restraints. He was satisfied that he could easily escape until he heard the clicks of three tiny padlocks and realized that his task just got more difficult. With his back still turned to her, Justin heard Melissa remove something else from her bag. He turned to see what else she had brought, but was stopped by her hands placed on either side of his face, forcing his gaze forward. "Now don't spoil the fun sweetie," she said. "just keep your back to me and don't turn around. You seeing too much would give you an unfair advantage and we certainly don't want that." He chuckled and played along, allowing her to return to whatever she was fumbling with. He heard the sounds of leather and metal and wondered if she had gotten him a new straightjacket. Suddenly, he felt something being put over his hands and pulled up his bound arms. He could feel the tightness of the thick leather as his girlfriend worked the device all the way to his upper arms. He squirmed a bit as the material forced his arms even closer together. "Wow, Mel, what is this thing?" "It's called an 'armbinder', I saw it on some website and knew I had to get it for you," she answered as she began to lace up the corset-like middle of the binder. Each pull of the leather thong laces drew her boyfriends arms tighter, until, with a grunt, she knotted the laces at the top, forcing his elbows to meet. "It certainly is a good thing you're so flexible, or this might be too uncomfortable." "Uh huh, " was all Justin could say as he gritted his teeth against the cramping of his arms, not wanting his girlfriend to think he couldn't handle her help. Melissa then pulled an attached leather flap over the laces and zipped it up, completely covering them. She snapped another padlock onto the zipper at the top of the armbinder, cutting off all access to the laces. She continued buckling and padlocking other straps that dangled strategically from the restraining device. One came out from under Justin's enclosed hands and wrapped around his waist. Another set came around from the top, crossed over his shoulders, and were secured around his chest like a harness. "Well, that looks pretty secure, babe, but I know you're good, so I'm going to make sure it's perfect." Justin could feel another leather strap dangling from the bottom of the binder and swinging near his butt. He wondered if it was some kind of crotch strap like his straightjackets were equipped with. However, his girlfriend seemed to be ignoring it and instead attached three more straps around his arms through loops on the outside of the binder. These were also buckled tight and padlocked in the same locations as the straps under the binder. She took extra care to pull the wrist strap as tight as she could in order to isolate his hands as much as possible within the leather single sleeve. "There, your arms are all done. How does it feel?" He squirmed a bit, testing his bonds. "My arms are starting to cramp a bit. This thing is intense." She watched him squirm, happy with the results so far. "It sure is, but we're not done yet." She went over to the bag again and removed a stiff leather posture collar. She quickly encircled his neck with the tight fitting collar, even as he attempted to back away. "Wait a sec, Mel, I don't usually work with things around my neck," he said as she buckled the collar in place. "Melissa..." He was cut off by the snap of yet another padlock. The now locked on collar was higher in front than in back and forced the boy to keep his head held straight up. Unprepared for this new sensation, Justin began to feel a bit panicked. He didn't like the claustrophobic feeling that the collar was giving him. "Poor baby," she said like a mother talking to a child. "You're going to have to get used to it, it's part of the set." With that, she ran yet another strap from the top of the binder to the back of the collar. Pulling it taught and locking it, she ensured there would be a moderate amount of pressure on her boyfriend's throat. Pressure that would increase as he squirmed to get free. "Honey, please, this could be dangerous. Just take off the collar." He pleaded with her, but saw only determination as she went and retrieved yet another item from her bag of goodies. "First you want my help, now you don't like it. You're the great escape artist, you get the collar off. Now," she said with a hint of annoyance, "I've heard enough whining from you. Open your mouth." He looked at the thing she was now moving towards his mouth. It was a large red rubber ball attached to the inside of yet another leather strap. He knew she meant to shove that ball into his mouth, and took a step back defensively. "Look," she said, " I know all about escape artists hiding lock picks in their mouths, and we can't let you off that easily, right?" "But I don't have any picks in my mouth, I just got out of the show...mmmphhh!" She struggled to fit the huge ball into his mouth. At just over two and a half inches in diameter, she had to push hard until it finally popped in, stretching his jaw to the limit. Buckling and locking it on were easy in comparison to the insertion, but when she was finished, Melissa calmly pushed her trussed up boyfriend down onto his bed. "That's better. Now I can finish helping you in peace. I do have to get to work at some point today, so I have to hurry." Turning him over so that he was on his knees, face down on the mattress, she pulled the strap still dangling from under his hands down through his butt cheeks. Suddenly, the boy felt something on the inside of the strap touch his anal opening. There was a sudden sharp pain, followed by something sliding inside him. Shock kept him from squirming as the rest of the strap was pulled through and embedded deep in his crack. Melissa was proud of how quickly she managed to insert the butt plug into Justin's rectum. He hadn't been expecting it and her pre-lubing it had obviously been the right decision. Now she was pulling the strap under him, placing a thick, cup shaped part over his genitals. Once they were snugly in place, she threaded the end through the front of his waist belt, and pulled it tight, forcing the six inch long plug deeper into him. A padlock larger than those already used on him completed this portion of his restraint. Wondering if he was squirming from his restraints or the plug, Melissa retrieved yet another bundle of leather from the bag. In minutes she had the device pulled completely up Justin's legs. Working exactly like the armbinder, this device laced up from his ankles to the top of his thighs. She followed the lacing with the zippered flap, straps at the ankles, calves, knees, and thighs, and locks at all connecting points. Moving down to his feet, she pulled yet another strap down from the ankle strap, this one having several harness like connections. The strap came straight down his feet until it got to his instep. A circular strap then went around his arch, securing his feet together. The strap then continued down until a similar, though smaller strap encircled his big toes. Finally, the remaining length was pulled over the soles of his feet, threaded through another attachment at the underside of his ankle strap and cinched tight. The tension on this strap pulled the boy's bound feet into a severe pointed position. The click of another lock completed Justin's encasement in the leg binder. Another strap continued out from the one that secured his toes together, and Melissa quickly pulled it down to the footboard and locked it off there, ensuring his legs would remain immobile. Taking only a few seconds to admire the sight of her tightly trussed boyfriend, Melissa continued her task. With Justin immobile on the bed, she quickly attached a length of chain to the back of his collar with yet another padlock. Bringing the other end of the chain up to the headboard, she looped it around a centered metal wrung and locked it tight with the last of her padlocks. Satisfied with the lack of movement the twelve inch chain would provide, Melissa stood up and looked him over one more time. He squirmed in the momentary silence, glaring at her in an attempt to convey his discomfort. He was restrained more effectively than he had ever been and honestly had no idea if he could free himself. Every movement put pressure on his neck and caused whatever she had shoved up his ass to move around inside of him. He grunted unintelligibly into his gag, hoping his girlfriend would release him. "Now, now, Justin, I know we've delved into some new territory here, but trust me, this will only make you better at your craft. You're probably wondering about the butt plug that's attached to your crotch strap. Well, I was thinking about all of the different escape artists I've seen on television and what it is that they do differently from you. It was so simple that I couldn't believe I hadn't realized it sooner. You see, all the others have to escape within a set period of time or something terrible happens to them. You know, like a car falls on top of them if they can't get loose from being tied to a chair, or they fall from a great height when the rope holding them suspended upside down burns through. I'm sure you've seen things like that." Not quite liking where she seemed to be going with this, he groaned and tried to shake his head. The gag effectively cut off most of the sound, while the plug shifted inside him from his sudden movements, causing him even more discomfort. Melissa merely smiled and waited for him to stop fidgeting. "Don't start your escape attempt just yet, Hon, I'm not quite through. Anyway, I got to thinking that while I don't want you in any real life threatening predicament, I do feel you need some encouragement in your act. Now, excuse me for just a minute while I get your 'motivation' ready." In the ten minutes she was gone, all Justin managed to do was wear himself out trying desperately to get free before she returned with whatever it was she was going to use to motivate him. Lying on his side now, facing the open bedroom door, his eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw his girlfriend returning. She was wheeling his solid wood coatrack in from the livingroom, but it wasn't that which caused his distress, rather it was the two huge enema bags hanging from the hooks at the top of the rack. Both bags looked completely full, with tubes coming out from the bottom of each and dangling down until they reached a Y shaped connector that joined them into one, the end of which was firmly gripped in his girlfriend's free hand. As she pushed the rack closer to the bed, Justin noticed that one bag was slightly larger, and fuller, than the other. After positioning the coatrack on the opposite side of the bed, Melissa retrieved another one of the items she had packed in her bag. She hummed softly as she attached the black rubber inflation bulb to one of two connection points sticking out from the crotch strap tightly embedded between Justin's butt cheeks. Squeezing the bulb slowly, Melissa began to inflate the plug inside her boyfriend's rectum. Justin began flailing around as much as his restraints would allow in response to this new sensation. Having practiced with the plug where she could see it, Melissa stopped after eight full squeezes, knowing the invader was at it's maximum distention. Clamping off the tube, she removed the bulb and tossed it back into the bag while retrieving the hose dangling from the nearby coatrack. She slipped the hose onto the second connection point and heard a satisfying 'click' as the two pieces locked into place via metal fittings built into each end. Melissa tugged the tube with all of her strength, ensuring it wouldn't dislodge no matter how much Justin struggled and squirmed. Satisfied that all was in place, she walked back around to the other side of the bed and faced her boyfriend. "Okay," she said, "let me explain your situation. These two enema bags and their contents are going to serve as your encouragement to escape from the bondage I've put you in. Both bags have small timers attached at the mouth and connected to the tubes. The smaller bag, although I wouldn't exactly call two quarts small, is full of ice cubes and cold water. It's timer is set for two hours. If you're not free by then, the ice cold contents of that bag will drain into you, and, with that plug sealing your butt, well... I'm sure you get the idea." Melissa stopped to watch her boyfriend's reaction. He was frantically squirming now, his painfully distended jaw working at the gag, muffled grunts the only sound allowed to escape his throat. She waited patiently for him to settle down a bit before continuing. "So, for two hours, your desire to not get an ice water enema will be your motivation to get loose. After that, the liquid in your bowels will serve as both a motivator, and, as your need to go to the bathroom increases, a distraction. That's when the real urgency to escape will kick in. Now just think of the second bag as the car waiting to fall on you. I set that timer without looking. All I know is that it will release it's contents sometime after the two hour point. It could be ten minutes, or it could be another two hours. I really suggest that you get free before that happens. If you don't, the first enema is going to feel like a walk in the park in comparison. The second bag is filled with a heated mineral oil base, several melted down glycerin suppositories, and six bottles of over-the-counter enema solution." She chuckled slightly, remembering. "You should have seen the lady's face at the drug store when I brought all this laxative stuff to the counter. I wonder what was going through her mind. Well, there you have it, the second bag is full of scalding hot, bowel busting laxatives." She looked down at him, a serious look on her face. "You really should get free before the second bag starts flowing. I wouldn't recommend five quarts of anything in your bowels, let alone what's in that bag." "I've got to get to work now, and so do you. Just so you know, all the keys, as well as the inflation bulb, are coming with me. I know how upset you'd be if Rick unexpectedly showed up and stole your glory by releasing you before you could prove yourself." Gathering her things, she glanced back at his frantically struggling form, stretched taught between the head and foot boards of his bed. She watched as he urgently turned his head to see the small clock on his nightstand next to the phone. "Ah, ah, ah," she said, rummaging in her bag once more. "I knew I forgot something." She pulled out another leather item and, walking back to the bed, roughly pulled the hood over Justin's head. She lined up the only openings in the black headgear so that they were under his nostrils, and then proceeded to lace up the back of the hood, tightly knotting it in place. "No clock watching for you. We don't want you to have it that easy, do we?" Only a barely audible groan made it through the gag and thick leather hood. "This one's a freebie though, since I'm out of padlocks. You should have no trouble getting the knot undone." She laughed as she, almost as an afterthought, moved the phone from the side of the bed to across the room. "Gotta go now, Hon. Good luck. By the way," she added just before closing the bedroom door behind her, "that website I got this stuff from specializes in selling restraints to prisons and mental institutions. They guarantee their products to be escape proof, but they probably never thought their stuff would be tested by you. It shouldn't be too much of a challenge for 'the best young escape artist to come along in years', now should it?" Justin barely heard the click of the light switch and the shutting of the door through the confining leather of the hood, but he knew he was now alone. From his last glance at the clock, before his eyesight had been taken away, he knew he had less than an hour and forty-five minutes before his first enema started. He ground his jaw around the gag, trying to lessen the distraction caused by the pain from his mouth being held open by the huge ball. Unable to compress it, the boy gave up and tried to ignore the ache, preferring to concentrate on getting free. Justin was in a panic, he had no idea how much time had passed during his futile attempts to free himself. Every technique he knew failed miserably. Nether his flexibility, nor his ability to dislocate his shoulders, had proven sufficient to get him out of the armbinder. The multitude of straps served to hold his limbs so tightly together that there wasn't enough movement to gain any leverage. All he had succeeded in doing was working up a sweat. Every part of his body ached, forcing him to take numerous rest periods, all for unknown lengths of time. His arms and stringently pointed feet cramped from being in unnatural positions, his jaw continued to feel as though it were dislocated, and he suffered from never before experienced bouts of claustrophobia, resulting from the hood covering his face and the collar around his neck. He was in the middle of thinking that even if he had his lockpicks, he wouldn't be able to use them when a loud snap broke through the silence of the room. He knew immediately what it was, but was still unprepared. The frigid water hit his insides like a freight train, filling him rapidly. He reflexively tried to squirm away, but the tugging on his neck made short work of that plan. The cramps started before the bag was even empty, as the icy liquid went to work on his insides. Justin redoubled his efforts to escape as his urge to go to the bathroom became intolerable. Failing yet again, he tried to expel the plug, not caring what kind of mess he made. Once again, the boy was met with failure as the inflated device held fast and the entire bag finished emptying into him. The now violent cramping of his intestines made every further attempt at escape impossible. He couldn't gather his thoughts long enough between spasms to try any further tactics. His only thought was of when the next timer would go off. He jumped as much as his restraints would allow when he heard the first muffled ring. It took another ring for him to realize it was the phone and not the second timer. He tried to calm down and focus on the distant sounding message as the answering machine picked up. "Hi," his greeting said, "this is Justin. I can't get to the phone right now because I'm probably all tied up, so just leave a message, and I'll call you back" "Hi Hon, it's me," Melissa's voice came through the machine. He could tell she was talking loud as he had no problem hearing her. "It's been two hours and fifteen minutes and I guess since you're not answering that you freed yourself, got bored and went out for the rest of the day. I just wanted to let you know that I had faith in your ability. So much so in fact, that I feel a bit guilty about lying to you. Remember when I said that I didn't look when I set the second timer? That wasn't true. What kind of assistant would I be if I didn't know all the details of your escape? Anyway, since you're not there, I guess it doesn't matter that the second bag is going to start flowing in...four more minutes. I just hope you took down the bags before you left or your bed is going to be awfully wet. Well, I'll talk to you later, love ya." Justin immediately started thrashing on the bed. He no longer cared about the tugging on his neck or the various pains he was suffering from the restraints. All the boy cared about was dislodging the tube. He did not give up, even after he heard the telltale snap and felt the influx of even more fluid into his already distended stomach. The pressure and cramping finally took it's toll and he settled down as the three quart bag drained into him. Time passed in agonizing waves, as Justin laid there still fully restrained. Delirious from the severe cramping, fullness and nausea that ran through him, he barely heard the phone as another message was left. "Hi Hon, it's me again. Gee, I guess you found something to occupy your time today since you're still not home. That's good. I just wanted to let you know that I'm about ready to get off work now and since you're not around, I'm going to head out for drinks with a few of the girls. I will stop by your place later tonight so I can give you the keys to your new equipment. But don't wait up. It is Friday night, and I don't have work in the morning so I may be over pretty late. Don't worry, I'll let myself in. Have a good night, Love ya." Justin screamed into his gag, knowing that he had finally gotten in over his head. Laying there helpless, his unbearable need for release overwhelming everything else, the boy could only wonder what type of unemployment he could get for being an out of work "best young escape artist to come along in years".
The Art of Escape
Re-visited
By Tyjord
To all my readers: Please note that although my stories do not contain any references to the permanent harm or death of characters, the scenarios presented are very extreme and would result in great physical harm or death if any of them were attempted in real life. My stories are fiction, and all the events depicted should be read with a willing suspension of disbelief. Even if the events portrayed were possible, they should not be attempted by any individual under any circumstances. These are fantasies written for the reading enjoyment of adults only.
The old, run-down waterfront neighborhood was deserted this late at night. Even the transients and homeless folks, usually scurrying from dumpster to dumpster in an attempt to build a meal, were nowhere in sight. The cool temperatures, coupled with a less than twenty-five percent occupancy rate, made this formerly bustling portside warehouse district undesirable even to them.
A rat, large and hungry, scurried alongside one of the buildings; its body casting a huge shadow as the headlights of the slowing SUV momentarily illuminated it. It scurried off as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the abandoned looking building. The two occupants, a young couple, stepped out of the car and approached the rusty steel door. The man reached into his pocket and produced a key. He held it up for the girl to see, before inserting it into the heavy padlock that secured an iron bar in place over the middle of the door. The padlock opened with a loud clank, and the man handed it to the girl, freeing his hands so that he could slide the iron bar from its two slots buried in the cement walls framing the door. He then unlocked two more padlocks, each holding two deadbolts in place, one at the top and one at the bottom of the door. He struggled to pull back the bolts that were heavy with rust and corrosion. After a moment of grunting, the top bolt slid back with a bang. Confident now, the man bent low and pulled at the bottom dead bolt. A horrible screeching of metal on metal preceded the bolts movement, and the girl through her hands over her ears in protest to the grating sound.
The man smiled at the girl, and with a push from his shoulder, opened the door. The couple replaced the padlocks on the deadbolts, ensuring that they remained open, then, moving the bar and remaining padlock to just inside the doorway, entered the pitch-black interior. The girl reached out with her hand and flicked a switch, turning on a row of flickering fluorescent lights that ran the length of the interior. She then stepped aside, allowing her companion to close the door behind them and slide another deadbolt, this one much newer in appearance and function, into place.
Together, they surveyed the building. The inside was a fairly large space, with heavily barred, dirty looking windows high up on the walls. The windows had recently been sprayed over with a special paint causing them to appear grainy and reflective when viewed from the outside. Strewn throughout the warehouse, large unidentifiable objects were covered by filthy, tattered tarps. There were many such objects strewn about, but the couple passed them by nonchalantly as they made their way to the rear of the building. At the far end, they stopped in front of a solid metal roll-up gate, like the ones used by retailers in bad neighborhoods. The gate was also secured by padlocks and bolts, a pair of which held it locked down to the floor at each end. In seconds, the locks were opened and removed, and the man pushed the red button on a wall-mounted junction box, activating the motor that began rolling up the gate.
They stood by patiently as the gate moved up slowly and noisily, more flickering lights coming on as the obstruction moved upwards. Beyond the gate, the interior took on an even dirtier, unused feel than the rest of the building. Numerous crates, containers, pallets and other paraphernalia lie strewn about in various states of disrepair. The floor, cold, hard, and made of smooth concrete, was covered in an uneven layer of dust. The duo moved inside, cautiously winding their way past the large pieces of discarded debris. At the end of this smaller room, the pair stopped and took in the sight before them.
“Well, Rick, looks like he couldn’t escape again,” the young woman said, mild annoyance apparent in her tone.
“It certainly looks that way, Melissa. I’m beginning to think my cousin isn’t as good at this as he claimed.”
The duo looked at the naked male form suspended ten feet above the floor in front of them. A four cuff metal spreader bar was locked to the wrists and ankles of the hanging male, drawing his knees up behind him and forcing his wrists down. The resulting arch enabled his wrists to be secured behind him in a straight line with his ankles. A stiff leather helmet was secured around the imprisoned male’s head, numerous straps and padlocks holding it in place. A chain ran from a ring at the top of the helmet and back to a centered ring on the spreader bar, positioned between the wrist cuffs. The chain forced the subjects head back, putting further strain on his back and shoulders. The center link of the connecting chain was impaled by a heavy-duty hook, which descended from a pulley attached to a beam high above. The hook held the full weight of the painfully restrained form as it swung slightly in the air.
Melissa grinned devilishly as she moved directly under the bound form, carefully stepping around some large puddles of water on the floor. Hanging at eye level were three metal weights, one weighing five pounds, and two smaller ones weighing one pound each. Carefully, the girl stepped in between the dangling weights and looked up. The five pound one was attached to the male’s testicles, stretching his split-tied ball sack down towards the floor. The smaller two were attached via cruel looking toothed metal clamps to his nipples, which were also painfully stretched downward and away from his body. With sadistic glee, Melissa gave each of the weights a push, causing the bound form to start swinging as its body reacted to the increased sensations.
Rick joined Melissa under the swinging form of his cousin, and used a large towel to wipe up the pooling water. “I thought for sure Justin would have gotten out of this before the ice melted and the weights fell.”
“Me too,” Melissa nodded in agreement as she playfully slapped the nipple weights back and forth. “But, he didn’t, so we’ll just have to try something else.”
They had left him then, still swinging from the ceiling, the weights pulling painfully at his balls and nipples, as they went back to the larger area of the warehouse.
After two hours of preparation, the pair returned and lowered him to the ground. Melissa had disconnected the weights as Rick lowered the tormented young man. Once he was positioned on the floor, Melissa went about unlocking and removing the heavy helmet. Underneath, Justin’s head was encased in another piece of headgear, this one a tight rubber hood. Rick bent down close to his cousin’s ear and spoke loudly.
“Okay Justin,” he said as he began unlacing the hood, “we’re going to be preparing you for your next great escape. Well, actually, if you get out, it’ll be your first successful escape in weeks. But, we have faith in you. Now remember, no struggling or resisting while we prep you, or we’ll just inject you with a sedative. Then you’ll wake up in your new predicament with absolutely no information. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
A muffled groan was the only response that came from Rick’s younger cousin. Taking his silence as a sign of compliance, Rick continued unlacing the hood. Under the rubber, Justin’s head was even further restrained by a tight blindfold and mouth filling rubber plug gag. Rick left those in Place as Melissa set about releasing the boy’s hands.
“Remember,” Melissa said as she knelt behind him with the key to the spreader bar’s cuffs, “play along, or else.”
Justin remained immobile as he felt his arms being freed. Relief washed over him as he was finally able to move his arms after the long period of time he was hanging. But his relief was short lived as he felt his arms twisted up behind him into a painful reverse prayer position. Rick held his arms in place as Melissa fastened different cuffs to them. The new restraints were made of rough leather and steel, and connected his wrists back to back by only one link of metal.
“Ill never get over how flexible he is,” Melissa said as she finished with the cuffs and, with Rick still holding his arms, buckled and locked a wide posture collar in place around her boyfriend’s neck. Once that was locked on, it was a simple matter for Rick to slide another padlock through the ring at the back of the collar, and then slip the hasp through the link connecting the cuffs.
That done, the duo went to work on Justin’s legs and feet. Matching cuffs were placed around Justin’s ankles, and were followed by an odd looking metal brace. The brace fit over his cuffs, merging his ankles together. A molded metal piece went down from his ankles and covered the tops of his feet, forcing them to point downward. At the end of that section was a small set of metal cuffs that were snapped shut around his big toes. From the underside of the toe cuffs, a straight metal bar ran up and connected to the rear of the frame at his ankles. Rick began turning a specially shaped wrench, which he had inserted into the side of the metal foot frame. With each revolution, the device ratcheted tighter, forcing the young man’s feet into a straight line with his shins even as it pulled back on his toes.
Satisfied at the punishing level of tension, Rick stepped back to allow Melissa to buckle leather straps around Justin’s legs, above and below his knees, ensuring no possible separation of his legs. The pair then carried the bound boy out of the back room and laid him down next to his new trial. Justin’s blindfold was removed, and he began struggling fiercely when he saw the seven-foot tall glass cylinder filled with water.
The pair let him struggle for a few moments, watching the fear-filled young man strain futilely against his bonds. His thrashing died down fairly quickly, as the intense strained position of his arms, as well as the pressure on his collar, were enough to nudge him into submission. Satisfied with his realization of the inevitability of his predicament, Rick moved off to set up the larger, more mechanical portions of the escape, while Melissa devoted all of her attentions to continuing her boyfriend’s preparation.
“Just relax, sweetheart,” she said as she retrieved some items from a nearby table, “you don’t want to tire yourself out before the fun begins, do you?”
A muffled grunt was all that escaped from the bound boy, as she knelt down next to his head. Quickly, she undid the lock holding his gag in place, and pulled the large plug out of his mouth. With a wink, she immediately replaced it with another, more complicated one. The new gag was also rubber, and obviously inflatable. She stuffed the flaccid device into his mouth, inserting attached wing pieces in-between his cheeks and teeth. Once the device was in place within his oral cavity, his lips closed around a slick rubber guard piece that covered his teeth completely. Melissa then buckled and locked the gag’s straps in place behind Justin’s head, totally sealing off his mouth with the front pad. She then pulled a latex muzzle into place over the lower part of his face. Once it was secured, his face was completely covered by the shiny black device from just beneath his nose, to underneath his chin.
While Melissa was taking the steps to silence and seal off her boyfriend’s mouth, Rick had rolled over a pallet loaded with five large oxygen tanks. The tanks were secured to each other and the pallet to prevent their toppling over. Air hoses went from one tank to another, culminating at the lead tank that had several gauges, dials and tubes sticking out of its top. Rick carefully attached the tank’s tube to the end of another that trailed along the floor and disappeared under the water tank. He gave the tube a yank, and observed its path up through the tank and out through a gasket at the top of the ominous steel lid sealing the tank. Parallel to the tube, a length of heavy chain also ran the length of the tank, exiting the bottom and laid coiled on the floor. After checking over all of the gauges on the oxygen tank, Rick went over to a nearby chain descending from a pulley attached to a beam in the ceiling. He unlatched the clip holding it in place and began pulling downward. With a heavy creaking noise, the unsecured lid of the tank began lifting up, pulling the chain and air hose with it. He watched the chain and hose uncoil from the floor as they traveled up through the tank, following the lid. Manipulating the guide chain further, Rick maneuvered the tank’s cover to the side and began lowering it until it was about three feet off the ground. He then rejoined Melissa at Justin’s side.
The pair dragged the boy closer to the side of the tank and laid him flat on his back, his arms crushed by his weight and their strenuous position. Rick knelt down behind Justin’s head and firmly gripped it between his knees, while placing one hand on each of Justin’s shoulders, ensuring the boy’s immobility. Meanwhile, Melissa had retrieved the end of the air hose from the nearby lid and pulled it out until she had enough slack to reach Justin. She then attached the end of the hose to a Y-shaped adapter that split off into two thinner tubes approximately four inches in length. She then grabbed a toothpaste shaped tube from her pile of accessories, and straddled her boyfriend’s chest.
“Okay, baby,” she said soothingly, “this part won’t be fun, but it’s necessary. With your mouth all sealed up, were going to need to make sure you can breathe before you start your escape attempt.” She held up the twin tubes so he could see them. “These are going up your nostrils and into your sinus passages. See these little foam plugs? Well, they’re waterproof, and they are going to contract as they get squeezed into your nose, then once they pop through into your sinus cavity, they will expand again. That way, the tubes won’t come out on their own, and no water will be able to get in.” Justin’s eyes widened in fear as she continued to explain. “Of course we have to make sure that the tubes don’t get pulled out during your struggle to escape, and this is how we’re going to do that.” Melissa held up the tube and squeezed a glob of its contents onto each nasal plug. She then rubbed it around, coating each in a thick layer. “This is surgical glue. It acts just like superglue, except that it dissolves after a few days. Doctors use this stuff instead of stitches these days. Now, stay still. I have to seat the tubes before the glue starts to dry.”
Justin watched in horror as Melissa began sliding the first tube into his left nostril. He began to panic as he felt the tube slide further and further inside him. An intense burning and suffocating sensation, followed by an almost audible “plop” told him the first tube was in place. Melissa quickly followed up with the second tube, not allowing the boy any chance of recovery. Once installed, she yanked sharply on the tubes, causing tears to well up in Justin’s eyes. “There’s going to be some burning sensations as the glue dries and the plugs harden. Just try to relax and breathe normally.
Short labored breaths were all Justin could manage as he felt Rick release his head and move away. He came back with the end of the chain that ran through the tank. With little ceremony, he attached the chain via a strong lock to a D-ring attached to the gag strap that went over the top of Justin’s head. With help from Melissa, Rick then lifted the boy’s legs until they were just under the lid. Two short chains attached to the underside were secured to the sides of the ankle and foot brace. The positioning of his feet brought the tips of his pointed big toes right up against the underside of the lid. Another chain was hooked from there to his toe cuffs, ensuring no possible movement from Justin’s feet.
Melissa continued to support the boy’s legs as Rick moved back to the pulley chain and began lifting the lid higher. Melissa guided Justin’s inverted body into the air, keeping him from swinging too much as his shoulders and head left the ground. Once Justin’s rear end was even with Melissa’s chest, the upward movement stopped. “A few last things,” Melissa said as she retrieved more items. It only took a few moments for her to slide an eight-inch long inflatable butt plug into him. That was followed by the insertion of a long clipped shut catheter tube into his bladder. The plug and catheter were all part of a leather and rubber belt that she now locked around his waist. A rear strap ensured the plug would stay in place, while a tight rubber sheath was fitted over his catheterized penis, forcing it to point downward, between his legs. She then trailed the catheter tube behind him, and attached it to an intake valve on the base of his anal plug. Satisfied that any urine he needed to release during his trial would get safely tucked away, Melissa picked up an inflation bulb and proceeded to pump up the boy’s gag, plug and catheter balloon. She then motioned for Rick to continue raising him, while snapping open the clamp on the catheter. She smiled as a short stream of the boy’s golden fluid traveled down the tube and into his bowels.
Rick stopped once Justin was next to the tank, allowing Melissa to explain the situation. “Okay mister escape artist sir, you haven’t done too well lately, and we figured that might be because you situations have all been so mundane. Rick and I figured that it was time to really test you. I’m going to explain fast, so pay attention. By the way, the piss enema’s not really part of the escape. I just thought it would be more convenient. Anyway, you are about to be lowered into this tank of water. It is made of bulletproof glass, so you don’t need to worry about it accidentally shattering and ruining your escape. Once inside, the slack in your head chain and nasal tubes will be removed, and your head will be secured to the bottom of the tank. The lid will then be locked on, and you’ll be all set to start your escape.” She walked directly under him and smiled up at the boy. “Now, you may be wondering what your motivating factors will be. Allow me to explain. Even under the water, you will be able to just make out the gauge on the lead oxygen tank. As time passes, the amount of air you receive will go down, making it more difficult for you to struggle. Once the needle reaches the red ‘DANGER’ line, you will be getting only the barest minimum of oxygen. Pretty much only enough for you to hang there breathing slowly and deeply. Of course, that’s just to make your escape challenging. The real problem you will want to avoid comes from what happens once you hit the ‘DANGER’ zone. You see, the tank has some modifications, made by Rick of course,” she waved at Justin’s cousin pleasantly, as he, with a flourish, bowed deeply from the waist. “At the point when you are down to the minimum flow of oxygen, the water in the tank will begin to change temperature thanks to industrial heating and cooling units built into the base, lid and the metal frame of the cylinder. The water will either cool down rapidly to very near freezing, or heat up to almost scalding, based totally on a random program built in. The length of time the water remains chilled or heated, will also be random. Then, after the specific period of time has been reached, the water will return to room temperature, your oxygen will go back up to the starting point, and the cycle begins again.” Melissa gave Rick the thumbs up sign.
“Now remember cuz,” Rick said as he hoisted Justin over the center of the tank, “you shouldn’t have to deal with the majority of that unpleasantness. I expect you to be out of this tank before the oxygen level even reaches fifty percent.”
Justin felt himself swing into place over the water. He tried to calm down, consciously attempting to slow his breathing and heart rate. Right now, his nasal tubes were providing normal levels of oxygen, and he wanted to saturate his lungs before this new fruitless escape attempt began. Despite his best efforts, he still panicked as Rick began lowering him and his head went under water. He continued to breathe, fighting off the claustrophobic feel of being encased upside down in the small cylindrical tank. His shoulders rubbed up against the walls of the tank as he was dropped lower. He realized, just as he felt a tug on the chain attached to his head, that his reverse prayer arm position had been necessary to get him fully into the tank. Had his arms been at his sides, or even pulled behind his back, his shoulders would not have fit past the metal ringed top of the tank. His head was yanked hard as the slack in the chain and the tubes was removed. Despite his best attempts, he couldn’t even move his head upward an inch. Through the clear water and slightly warped plexiglass, he could just make out Melissa locking his head chain to a bolt in the floor. He tried to twist a bit, and found that he could see Rick standing next to the oxygen tank. Justin could just make out the large green numbers and ominous red markings. He began flopping around as much as the tight confines would allow as he saw his smirking cousin reach out and twist the valve on the lead air tank. Justin watched in horror as the gauge moved from one hundred percent, down to fifty. His breaths were much more shallow now as he tried to suck in more air than was being allowed to flow. He then shut his eyes in despair as he saw Melissa come up to Rick and embrace him, their lips locking in a deep, passionate kiss. Justin tried to remain calm and await the inevitable. His thoughts began to wander from the confirmation of the two’s relationship, to whether he was about to freeze or burn. He knew it would be awful either way and probably only a prelude to even more devious things these two would come up with for him.
Rick and Melissa spent the next twenty minutes cleaning up. Every now and then they would check the oxygen level. At just above the red zone, the duo decided to depart and leave Justin to his suffering.
“That party yesterday was pretty wild, no?” Rick asked as they gathered some stuff and headed back towards the door.
“Yeah, those ladies never cease to amaze me.”
“Pretty intense stuff. So, any ideas you want to pilfer for our needs, Mel?”
“Well, I was thinking. I see no reason why Justin shouldn’t be recycling all of his enemas. It seems like such a waste to not utilize his waste properly.”
“Like those two male slaves?”
“Uh huh. Besides, it wouldn’t be very eco-friendly if we didn’t. We can start by feeding him his piss enema after we take him out of the tank. He should be good and full by then.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mel,” Rick said as he held the heavy metal door open for the girl. Reaching over, Rick shut the lights just as the sound of heavy refrigeration machinery began to hum in the background. He closed the door behind him and slid all the bolts, bars and locks into place, ensuring that nothing would disturb the artist at work within.
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