The Dilemma - Part Eight
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Gordon’s bubble had been well and truly burst. He felt very vulnerable. Moments earlier he had been hoping to be hooded. As he watched Mark retrieve his hood from the bag, he was now desperately hoping he wouldn’t be. He shook his head as Mark went behind him and pulled the hood, quite roughly, over Gordon’s head. Mark didn’t comment, but as he pulled the hood down he shook it, ensuring that it was a tight fit before buckling it shut. Gordon was plunged back into darkness. He suddenly realised that he was getting hot in the wetsuit, and the addition of the hood and the extra pair of gloves weren’t helping. He pulled against his wrists and shook his head in a futile effort to get rid of his bonds. He felt tired.
Mark had said something about getting him ready for bed. This wasn’t it, was it? He stopped struggling.
‘Useful things, hoods’ The comment came from very close to his left ear. He jumped, or more accurately jerked, in surprise. His bonds were too tight to allow much movement. He hadn’t been expecting that.
‘Proves my point’ the voice seemed further away.
‘Do you watch horse racing?’ What the fuck is this bloke on? Gordon thought. He shook his head. Almost immediately a hand grasped his balls and squeezed.
‘That’s not very polite, the least you could do is answer my question. Let’s try one mmmph for yes and two mmmphs for no. Can you manage that? Gordon nearly nodded but checked himself.
If he hadn’t been hooded he would have seen Mark smile.
‘Do you watch horse racing?’
‘Better. If you did you’d know that when they have a horse that’s difficult to get into the stalls at the start of the race, they put a hood over its head. It can’t see and doesn’t know what’s happening. They lead it round for a few minutes and then put it in the stalls, generally with no problems as it can’t see what’s happening. Are you with me?’
‘Mmmph’ Gordon had a feeling he knew what was coming next.
‘When I went to put you in the climbing harness, you refused, in the same way as a horse that won’t go into the stalls’.
Having worked out where Mark was coming from Gordon was now impatient for him to get on with it.
He was rewarded with another squeeze of his balls, slightly harder this time. His jaw was staring to ache and Mark’s insistence on his having to respond to the questions wasn’t helping. He tried to relieve the pressure by moving his jaw against the gag with limited success.
‘That was a statement not a question. You only need to answer questions. Understood?’
Mark continued ‘So I hooded you. Humans, however, are a little more intelligent than animals, so I had to secure you first. You reacted in the same way a horse would, by shaking your head when I went to put the hood on. Didn’t matter though as it didn’t stop me. A horse wouldn’t know that but you should have’. Usually a horse will calm down in a few seconds, but, as I said, humans are more intelligent. You might expect them to realise their situation more quickly, but sometimes they can do the opposite and try to resist for longer. I’m in no rush, so I’ll give you time to work out which way you want to react. Ultimately if I want to do something, while you’re with me and you’ve still got that on’ Mark gave Gordon’s cock and balls another squeeze ‘you’ll do it’. He rubbed them in a circular motion with the palm of his hand. Gordon groaned. That fucking CB 3000. Why oh why had he agreed to be locked in it?
‘By the way, in case you’re wondering why everything seems tighter’ Gordon stopped and listened intently. Mark had lowered his voice and Gordon struggled to make out the words through the hood. ‘The spreader bar is longer. That pushes your feet apart and moves your body down, effectively making you shorter, although your hands are still fixed at the same height’. Gordon flexed his arms. He thought that there was more pressure on his arms, but had put that down to the length of time he had been secured.
He waited, but Mark had fallen silent. Gordon had absolutely no way of knowing what was going on, apart from he was, once again, stretched and secured in a spreadeagled position in the middle of the room, clad from the neck down in tight fitting neoprene, hooded and gagged. The mental picture that came into his mind once again caused his cock to strain against the cage. He let out a deep groan into the gag. His shoulders slumped as far as the bonds allowed and his head dropped to his chin.
He had, by this time, completely lost the concept of time. Gordon desperately wanted to get rid of the mental picture of himself and his situation, which was making his ordeal more difficult, but all he could think about was that he was hot and thirsty and the gag that kept his jaws apart. That was as bad.
He was relieved to hear Mark’s voice. A hand went under his chin and lifted his head. Gordon braced for the feel of the collar but none came.
‘Are you going to fight me?’
‘Ok, good. Where were we?’ as if Mark needed reminding Gordon thought.
‘Ah yes the harness’.
Mark released each of Gordon’s legs in turn, repeating the sequence he had used that afternoon and soon Gordon could feel the wide straps of the harness pulled tight against the wetsuit around his chest, waist and thighs. He braced himself for the vibrators, but they didn’t come. He’d previously not been able to see because of the collar, this time it was the hood.
Instead Mark released both of Gordon’s arms and took off the wrist cuffs.
‘Stand absolutely still’ Mark instructed. ‘Move around and you’ll fall over and I won’t be very pleased.’ Mark gently pulled Gordon’s arms behind his back and Gordon felt a wide strap fasten them together. It didn’t feel like the same as the harness, which Gordon knew to be webbing He braced against it and from the way it gave every so slightly deduced that it was leather. He felt another, smaller, strap being secured around the first, passed between his wrists which Gordon knew and could feel was designed to remove what little slack there was.
He was a little surprised when another, wider strap was passed around his arms just above his elbows and he grunted as they were pulled closer together. He felt them slacken slightly as Mark secured the buckle, and then tighten again as a smaller strap was again used to remove slack. The mental picture returned despite his best efforts.
‘Shuffle forward’ came the order.
Mark held Gordon’s shoulders while the latter, with some difficulty moved and was manoeuvred into the position required. Gordon felt the harness tighten and realised that Mark had secured the metal ring on the back of the harness to one of the rings in the beam.
‘To stop you falling over’ Mark explained just before Gordon arrived at that conclusion.
He was relieved when Mark undid the leg spreader and removed the ankle straps. He blinked as the hood was removed, but the gag stayed in place.
‘Shit’ muttered Mark, glancing swiftly at Gordon he added ‘that’s not an instruction’. No smile, Gordon was confused.
Going behind Gordon he undid the elbow straps and loosened the shoulder straps on the climbing rig. Leaving the room he quickly returned carrying a small item. He held it up. Gordon recognised it as a hood, similar in shape to the one the mutant came with, but made of rubber rather than neoprene. He slipped the hood over Gordon’s head and adjusted it so that it fitted correctly. It was a tight fit and Gordon could feel it pressing on all sides of his head. Mark undid the zip on the wetsuit and, after smoothing the sides of the new rubber hood down each side of Gordon’s neck in a slow stroking motion that caused Gordon to sigh into his gag, zipped the suit back up. Gordon could feel the buckle of the gag strap pressing into his head by the hood and realised that it was likely to be there for some time.
In the meantime Mark had refastened the harness and elbow straps so Gordon was, once again secure in his neoprene prison. More was to come.
Mark pulled the Mutant hood over Gordon’s head, fastened the bottom of it to the chest fixings but instead of covering Gordon’s head, pulled to down behind it. Taking the gas mask he pushed it down over Gordon’s face and adjusted the straps. Putting his hand over the valve he checked the seal by cutting off the air supply. He then pulled the mutant hood back over Gordon’s head and adjusted it around the mask. The only sound was the regular hiss of the intake valve on the mask as Gordon breathed through it. The sound was strangely muffled to Gordon, and he felt rather than heard the valve. The two layers of rubber and neoprene encasing his head effectively dampened most noise.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Gordon realised that he wouldn’t be getting anything to drink. The gag stopped Mark from getting the water pipe into his mouth. He was already hot. The top hood stopped the mask from being taken off, the mask stopped the second hood from coming off and the second hood stopped the gag from coming out.
The fucking bastard. Gordon shook his shoulders in frustration. That was about the only movement he could manage. Mark appeared in his vision and grinned.
‘Temper, temper’ he scolded ‘You’re getting overtired. Time for bed’
He undid the harness ring securing Gordon to the beam and picked up a lead.
Gordon groaned into his gag again. For once he was ahead of Mark and knew what was about to happen. He wasn’t wrong. Mark picked up the collar, buckled it around Gordon’s neck and clipped the lead to the ring on the front. Gordon noticed that it wasn’t quite as tight as it had been, but was under no illusions that this was a mistake on Mark’s part.
Pulling on the lead, Mark led Gordon upstairs and through the door at the top. Gordon was amazed. It was obviously the master bedroom. The ceilings were vaulted and running right through the middle was a massive wooden beam, supported in the middle by an equally massive wooden post.
‘Impressive isn’t it?’ Marks comments rang dull in Gordon’s ears. All he could hear was his won breath through the gas mask. It certainly was.
Gordon suddenly realised that there was something attached to the beam. As the realisation sunk in, Mark reached forward, grasped a thin metal cable and pulling it, clipped the hook on the end of the cable to the ring on the back of the climbing harness. Gordon backed away but was stopped as the cable went taut. He followed the line of the cable, up to the beam, through a pulley at the top, attached to the beam by some sort of strap and down to the post where Mark stood, the grin now appeared to be a permanent fixture on his face.
‘Do you like fishing?’ he asked. Gordon was learning that however random Marks comments seemed to be, they were always related to his situation. Mark bent down and Gordon could see that he was fiddling with some kind of winch. Gordon felt himself being pulled forward as Mark wound the cable in. The fishing reference. Mark continued to wind. Gordon walked forwards and stood under the beam, waiting for the cable to catch up.
‘No, No, you’re jumping the gun. Go back and let the cable pull you in otherwise the cable won’t go on the drum properly. You’re thinking, you’re not allowed to do that’. Gordon could tell by Mark’s tone that this was another black mark.
He did as bid and allowed himself to be wound in until he was under the beam. Mark continued to wind until Gordon was stood on tip toes and wobbling to keep his balance. It would have been easier if Mark had kept winding Gordon thought, too easy!
Mark let Gordon struggle for a few moments until the bound figure mmphed angrily into the gag in frustration.
Mark bent down in front of Gordon and pulled his ankles together. Before Gordon could react, he found yet another wide leather strap being fastened around his ankles, swiftly followed by two more, above and below his knees. He was really struggling to keep his balance and in his frustration bent his knees and lifted his legs behind him so that he swung free of the floor.
Mark picked up a short piece of rope, passed it between Gordon’s ankles and tied it round the strap securing them. Pulling on the rope, he tied the other end of the rope around the strap securing Gordon’s wrists together. Gordon gave another longer, angry grunt through his gag.
‘Not tight enough?’
Gordon suddenly remembered his earlier instruction. ‘Mmmmmmmmph’
‘Don’t be stroppy, mmmph will do. Yes, it’s not tight enough?’
‘No, it’s not tight enough’?
Gordon struggled in his bonds, causing him to swing backwards and forwards.
‘Mmmmmmmmppphhh’ Gordon was getting wound up.
Mark grabbed Gordon by the cock cage and stopped him swinging. He pulled Gordon back by the same means and let go. Gordon swung backwards and forwards, helpless in his wetsuit and rubber confinement.
As Gordon swung towards Mark he held out his hand flat towards Gordon. Gordon’s encased cock hit the palm of Mark’s hand, Mark rubbed Gordon’s cock and balls vigourously in a circular motion and then pushed Gordon back. As Gordon swung back wards and forwards Mark continued this process until appearing to tire it.
‘Calmed down, have we?’
‘Good, that’s better, I hate tantrums’
Mark went behind Gordon and slackened the hog tie a little.
‘See? Temper tantrums don’t pay off, you have to be nice to me’
He bent down and wound the winch, hoisting Gordon higher into the air.
‘Almost forgot again’
Gordon didn’t like the sound of that. He was right not to. Holding a padlock Mark pulled Gordon’s collar back and then locked it to the cable using the padlock.
‘That’s to stop your head wobbling about too much’ he explained. It’ll be more comfortable that way’
‘Mmmmph’ Gordon snorted.
Mark ignored this, and gave the winch some more turns, lifting Gordon even higher off the floor. He the produced a short set of step ladders, and unfolding them, placed them alongside Gordon and climbed up until he was level with his neoprene clad captive’s head. Grasping the front of the mask. he shook the it gently to check the fit and then proceeded to screw a long piece of pipe to the inlet valve.
‘Just a precaution to make sure that your air supply doesn’t get blocked’ Mark offered. He threaded the other end of the tube over the top of the pulley and attached another device to the cable. Gordon couldn’t see what he was doing and, gagged as he was certainly couldn’t ask.
What he didn’t know was that Mark had fixed a small propeller and sensor into the end of the tube which rotated when Gordon breathed. This was linked to a wireless transmitter which would send a continuous signal to Mark’s PC. Gordon also didn’t know that Mark had positioned a baby alarm at the end of the tube which would pick up the sounds of Gordon breathing in and out through the mask.
Going back round to Gordon’s front he pushed Gordon’s cock cage again and resumed the massage when Gordon swung towards him. Gordon’s cock was almost as high as Mark’s head by this time, but the massage didn’t last long as Mark abruptly gave one last big push, dodged round his swinging wetsuit clad captive, and with a last ‘Try and get some sleep, you’ll need lots of energy for tomorrow’s activities’ went out of the room and closed the door.
Trussed up as he was, Gordon could only wait as the swinging slowly subsided and he came to a halt.
Why oh fucking why had he allowed himself to get in this predicament? He desperately longed to be released but nagging away in his groin his imprisoned cock was telling him a different story.
Gordon didn’t know that Mark was monitoring his situation, not only through the two devices he’d just fixed. Gordon hadn’t noticed the tiny camera fixed into another beam on the opposite side of the room, pointing directly at him. For that matter, he hadn’t noticed the others in the downstairs room.
Back downstairs by now Mark was well aware of the risks of leaving trussed and gagged captives alone and had taken these precautions. Gordon may well get some sleep, however fitful.
Mark checked his PC, the propeller was functioning well and the LED’s on the baby alarm receiver rose and fell with Gordon’s breathing. He checked the camera and could see that his prisoner had stopped swinging, but there was the occasional wriggle as Gordon tried in vain to find a comfortable position.
Mark went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. It would be a few hours yet before he took Gordon down and beside that he needed to make a start of editing the hours of video footage, not to mention all the still photos he’d taken
Back upstairs, Gordon was unaware of all this as he hung in his harness, like some well trussed up rubber clad parcel.
Nothing to do but wait.
To be continued…