Condemned Inmate on Gallows
I couldn't help but be curious, and as usual, my inquisitive attitude had landed me in a sticky situation. I found myself trapped in a DIY prison, surrounded by a thick layer of inescapable rubber, hanging motionless in my neighbor Ron's apartment like a piece of meat waiting to be discovered.
My journey to this point had begun about two weeks earlier when the apartment across the hall was rented by this man named Ron. He was a personal trainer with a ripped body, a real hottie who wore tight shorts and sports shirts. I met him while he was moving into the apartment and we had a quick conversation about his move from Chicago to LA, and his new gym down the street.
For the next week or so, I didn't see much of Ron, but he kept sending his belongings up the stairs with the help of his friends and family. However, what troubled me more were the late-night construction sounds I kept hearing. Since we weren't allowed to remodel or alter anything in our apartments, according to our leases, I was baffled as to what was going on. But curiosity got the better of me.
Instead of complaining, I started to listen closely and even hear muffled moans and the sound of rubbing, almost like a heavy plastic bag being shaken. There was also a strange smell drifting through the vents, reminiscent of oil or sex toys.
Being the nosy person I was, I could resist the temptation to find out more. One morning when Ron wasn't home, I grabbed my lock-picking kit and entered his apartment. I knew he wouldn't be back until 2 pm, so I had more than enough time to satisfy my curiosity.
I cautiously made my way through the living room, past the bathroom, and down the hallway to Ron's bedroom. The room was neat and the bed was made. The black curtains blocked out most of the light, only allowing a gentle glow from the corner lamp to light up the room. Nothing looked out of place, yet I could feel an air of mystery and intrigue.
About to leave, I noticed a door in the corner. It looked unusual - like a storage closet. I vaguely remembered the maintenance man mentioning that one apartment on each floor used to have a small cupboard to house the former water heaters, which had since been removed, turning them into storage spaces.
My heart started pounding as I approached the closet door. As soon as I opened it, I was greeted with a prison cell. Behind the outer door, there was a hinge that connected the cell door to the frame, allowing both doors to be locked at the same time.
I stood in amazement as my eyes fell upon the white rubber prison, suspended from the ceiling by two chains. On the wall was a shelf filled with lubricant, rubber shine, a ball-gag, a rubber hood, and a massive rubber plug that appeared to be around 8 inches long from what I could see.
I was fascinated by my neighbor's secret passion for rubber and bondage, and my dick couldn't help but get hard inside my pants. I opened the cell door and stepped inside the small room, carefully examining the materials and imagining what it would be like to be a prisoner in the cell.
Within the cell were various rubber items - a suit, a ball-gag, a rubber hood with just a mouth opening, and a giant rubber plug that would fill anyone up. Clearly, Ron was into rubber bondage, and it seemed he had access to various tools to make his fantasies a reality.
I realized I still had enough time before Ron came back home, so I wanted to examine the suit closer. It felt heavy with a long metal zipper running down the front of the sleeping sack. It had a sturdy base at the bottom to give some support to the wearer when they hung from the ceiling structure. The neck of the suit had a tiny screen that I figured out was a timer lock; once a time was set, the suit would lock the zipper in place until the time expired and then the zipper, which was on the inside and outside like a sleeping bag, could be released, freeing the prisoner.
I ran my hand over the rubber, which was moist, indicating it had been cleaned and recently used. That's what the noises I had heard must have been from. Ron never slept in his bed; he slept in this every night, a rubber prisoner confined in a cell right next to me every night, and I never knew.
Why couldn't it be me?
It seemed simple enough to gear up, spend an hour inside the suit, clean up, and slip out of the apartment without Ron noticing. Since I was there already, I slid out of my clothes and dropped them to the floor, then closed the outer closet door and the cell door, sealing it shut with the latch. I placed my clothes on the shelf and got the lube and anal plug. I carefully applied a generous amount, and after a bit of work, it slid in, causing me to gasp as it stretched me.
I grabbed the ball gag and the rubber hood and walked towards the sleeping sack, setting the timer for sixty hours to see how long I'd be trapped. I then put the hood over my head, blocking off my vision, and secured the ball-gag into my mouth, causing drool to dribble out. Next, I located the sleeping sack, stepped into it, and slowly zipped it up as the rubber sleeve closed around me.
When the zipper reached the neck, I pulled it tight, causing it to snap into place and eventually start the timer. The sleeping sack was snug, even though Ron and I were around the same size, it compressed every inch of my body, especially my crotch, pressing my erect cock between my legs, causing mild pain but amplifying my horniness.
After a struggle, I managed to slide my hands to my sides, locating the built-in mitts inside the suit, pressing my hands into them, and making them useless until the zipper was unlocked and the pressure decreased, allowing me to wiggle them out of the mitts.
I drew in a breath, allowing the smell of the rubber to overwhelm me, as the plug in my ass pushed deeper with each move I made. Reaching the brink of climax but not being able to touch my cock exacerbated the sensation even more. I squirmed and kicked, hearing the sleepsack sway from the ceiling structure, creaking under the weight. It felt sensational being housed in more intense bondage than I had ever experienced before. I wanted to be locked in his cell as his rubber prisoner every night!
After a few moments, I heard the lock beep, telling me my one-hour sentence had come to an end. I waited for the zipper to unlock, but nothing happened. Oops!
It dawned on me: six meant hours, not sixty minutes in my haste to run off and play with myself. I was now a prisoner in the cell. I was trapped, with no way out and no one to release me. I settled in, anticipating the next six hours in the sleeping sack.
As my time grew short, I began to feel parched and had to use the bathroom. The interior of the suit was soaked with sweat, and the air filled with the pungent odor of arousal.
Suddenly, the door opened, followed by the squeaking of the metal joints of the cell door. A hand grasped my cock, rubbing it rough against the sleepsack.
"I've got my own prisoner, and he's eager to serve. We will be having lots of fun from now on."
Perhaps my dreams were being realized, as it sounded like a longer duration in the cell lay ahead; I better get used to it - I'm off to serve my rubber prisoner sentence.
Read also:
- My Close Friend, a Female, Fondled Me
- A Stepmother's Varied Testimony: Volume 3
- Listening to Their Groans: The Complete Narrative
- Slim, Youthful, and Well-Endowed in Part 2
Source: www.nice-escort.de
