AUTHOR'S NOTE
AS ALWAYS, READING AT A SLOW PACE COMES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
RESPECT THE USE OF PUNCTUATION AND PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO WORDS IN ITALIC LETTERS.
THE EXTRA EMPHASIS YOU PLACE ON THEM WILL GREATLY IMPROVE YOUR COMPREHENSION OF THIS TEXT.
AS ALWAYS, READING AT A SLOW PACE COMES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.
RESPECT THE USE OF PUNCTUATION AND PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO WORDS IN ITALIC LETTERS.
THE EXTRA EMPHASIS YOU PLACE ON THEM WILL GREATLY IMPROVE YOUR COMPREHENSION OF THIS TEXT.
CHRONICLES OF A YOUNG SUB
THE BOI & THE ALPHA
CHAPTER 21 - COMING TO TERMS
I don't think I can accurately convey the full depth of what I felt during those first few moments of unplanned solitude. Not only because I lacked the words to do my experience justice, but because to this day, I still have trouble wrapping my mind around the jumble of emotions that assaulted me.
I was still struggling with the large gag by the time my towering host had hurriedly marched his leathery frame out the front door. I had tried halting the cumbersome intrusion by digging my teeth into its rubbery flesh, but the gargantuan strongman's leather-clad fingers had made short work of my valiant efforts.
The gag's front buckle had been pulled snug, filling my oral cavity with the hefty pecker and ensuring the complete and total suppression of my would-be calls for help.
Erick had apologised for the preventative measure, but his solemn words and condoling manner did little in the way of dissuading my panic. The oversized bulb very commandingly pushed its way into the back of my mouth, and the smothering embrace of heavily padded leather instantly grew manifest around my face.
I shook my head 'no' and tried rejecting the debilitating intrusion, but my chivalrous captor merely flashed me a look of sympathy with those dark brown eyes of his, and then reassured me with the promise of a timely return before hastily making his way out the front door. Then he was off in that godawful smelly Jeep of his. And I was very much alone.
The effortlessness with which the bearded hunk's leathery fingers wielded the gag and swiftly had it secured around my face hinted at years' worth of prior experience. Erick had obviously used this particular contraption on numerous victims and grown confident enough in its abilities to entrust my mouth to it in his absence. In a sense, it was an extension of his will, though I admittedly didn't draw much satisfaction from that. At least, not initially.
Quite the opposite, actually. I spent most of those initial minutes vehemently struggling against the unyielding rope prison and shaking my head in a panicked attempt at being rid of the frightening pecker.
I panicked, writhed, cried out and then struggled some more. It continued like that until finally, I was breathless and left with no other choice than to halt my pointless struggle and just focus on breathing. My chest heaved. The sound of rushing air filled my ears - and the entire room - as I noisily fought for air and struggled to quell the burning of my lungs.
Though the gag was not designed to hinder breathing, the size and heft of the annoyingly well-padded face piece left me glaringly aware of the fact that being on the petite side came with its fair share of disadvantages. The generously-padded, face-engulfing front piece clung to my cheeks and lips and just barely cleared my nostrils. Every inhale came with the overpowering scent of leather, and every exhale was marked by a dissonant rush of air.
My partially obstructed airways flared open again, hungrily feeding more air into my lungs even as I cursed the poignant smell and angrily lamented the burly intrusion that so completely filled my mouth. "Mmmnnpphhhh!"
I calmed down quite a bit after the first ten minutes or so. Not only due to the constant smothering and the taxing amount of effort required to properly fill my lungs up, but also due to the realisation that this wasn't actually so bad.
Sure, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a first time being tied up, but as the minutes slowly dragged on, I couldn't help but come to terms with the fact that I was basically living one of my fantasies. That of being a prisoner.
Though I'd been in contact with Erick for over a month now and though we'd been on several dates together, much of him - and his background - remained somewhat of a mystery. I'm not saying I thought of him as a stranger. I'm just saying that he still presented the right amount of unknown to slightly trigger that cautionary sense of danger. Just enough of it to make our interactions really exciting.
Add to that the fact that what I actually did know about him was just out of this world enticing. From his stunning looks and musculature, to the forceful citizen's arrests, the insane rope skills, the crazy foot odour and his unapologetically arousing propensity for wearing what he jokingly referred to as kidnap gloves - all of it just had me utterly spellbound.
Erick had assured me that he'd gone easy on me and that my restraints were laxer and more permissive than what he was usually in the habit of imposing. But even as I lay there, looking down at my own outrageously well-sausaged self, I couldn't help but be equal parts mesmerised and freaked out by the sheer tightness of his ropework.
The interconnected web of ropes he'd spun wasn't just symmetrical and aesthetic; it was inexplicably flawless. Every part of my naked body, from my ankles all the way up to my bony shoulders, was clad in a labyrinthian maze of jet-black rope. Every movement I made, every squirm, even just moving one of my wrists or trying to spread my knees apart, caused the entire netting to shift.
Each strand would pull on the next, until finally, the punishing harness which had been built around my crotch unfailingly responded by immediately closing in on itself. It was infuriating to the extreme.
The colossal-limbed behemoth had packaged me up as though I were the most slippery and most dangerous of hardened criminals. And yet, this was apparently his way of going "easy" on someone. Of course, my mind quite naturally became plagued with somewhat darker thoughts. I wondered what his not going easy on someone might actually look like.
Anyways, the one thing that really struck me about the excessive entrapment my stupendously brawny captor had seen fit to impose was its unexpected long-term viability. I'd been stuck in this maddeningly strict web of ropes for several hours by that point, and still, none of my limbs ached, and none of my joints felt sore.
I had, of course, fully come to expect discomfort. I'd been told countless times that it sort of came with the territory. Generally speaking, unless the restraints were minimal, the less experienced the one doing the tying was, the more physical discomfort and soreness the one being tied should anticipate. The fact that no such pain or numbness gnawed at my bare body spoke volumes about my gallant host's substantial experience, both as a captor and as a serious bondage-giver.
Erick's ropework was strict, but it was strict everywhere so as to evenly distribute the pressure instead of having it all focused around certain joints or areas. The only part of my body that ached was the damnable boner that angrily stood up past the body-hugging confines of my unyielding rope prison. I tried, more times than I can count, to sort of manoeuvre my hands away from my outer thighs and inch them closer to my crotch, but the angry thing was downright unreachable! Even worse, the infuriating crotch harness immediately punished my every attempt.
I swear, it was enough to make even the sanest of prisoners go mad!
I spent quite a bit of time slowly writhing around in a futile bid to reach my own crotch, but the endeavour was utterly pointless. The overpowering scent that wafted up my hindered airways did little to quell the fire that animated my unappeased manhood. But perhaps more than anything, it was the sound of my own voice that kept me fully erect and throbbing.
I just lay there, on my back; my hopelessly well-trussed-up form hugged on both sides by the tremendous loft of Erick's absurdly thick and proposterously strong-smelling duvet. To my left sat the dauntingly large, cock-sleeve-mounted vibrating wand he had previously set out to charge. And atop my lower face sat a torturously smothering gag. A gag that not only occupied the entire cavity of my mouth, but that also filled my nose with a powerful scent reminiscent of the bearded strongman's infamous kidnap gloves. It was like torment and ecstasy tangled into one unbearable moment.
I remember letting out a tentative groan. Then another, and another. As the sound of my own heavily muffled voice and laboured sniffs gradually grew more familiar to my ears, I drew a strange satisfaction from the knowledge that my cries for help were going unheard. No, wait. Not satisfaction. More like...thrill, excitement and perhaps even deep contentment.
"Hhhgmmpphh! Hhhhhhhggmmpph!" I yelled, this time a lot louder and with the intent of really giving the gag a serious run for its money. My chest heaved as I struggled to catch my breath. The air that noisily kept flooding into my nose stank not only of leather but of Erick's poignant duvet. I screamed, and this time I mean really really screamed. I called for help - yelling my lungs out in an entirely simulated need to desperately alert the neighbours.
I wanted out. I needed out. I wanted to be rescued, to be heard. And yet I legitimately revelled in the knowledge that I wouldn't be rescued and that I couldn't be heard.
I cried out, again and again; filling the room with muffled screams and growing more excited at the sound of my failure to negotiate passage past Erick's giant gag. My vehement calls for help were soon enough followed by uncontrollable bouts of muffled laughter before the laborious and very noisy flaring of nostrils predictably ensued.
I was overjoyed, overexcited, overstimulated and quite literally over the moon at how utterly entrapped, helpless and downright impotent I was. I was alone, trussed up beyond reason, on the bed of a frighteningly burly man I'd only met a few weeks ago. Nobody knew where I was, nobody could hear my muffled screams for help, and nobody would come looking for me. I was a prisoner in Erick's home. And I was loving every minute of it.
Sigh. But you know what they say about good things, right? All good things must come to an end, or at least so the saying goes.
I was still in the midst of joyously screaming my heart out and having the time of my life when the rattling of keys and what sounded like the front door being unlocked suddenly greeted my ears.
Something was wrong. Erick might have reached the emergency vet clinic by now – if he was driving fast - but there was no way in hell he could have made the trip back in this short a time! Even driving at twice the speed limit, it simply wouldn't have been possible. Something was definitely wrong.
My body instinctively stiffened, and my mind immediately began conjuring up possible explanations for my host's unexpectedly early return. Had he faked the whole thing? Created a scene with Rufus just for the sake of exciting me? Was all this just some sort of elaborate game? Possibilities flashed before me, but none of them made any sense. I had heard the vet call, had seen the genuinely unsettled reaction in my host's face, and had heard the dog's distress. This hadn't been faked. It couldn't have.
Then, another possibility instantly flashed before me. A plausible one. A frightening one. I stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide, body stiff with apprehension. I gulped. What if...what if this wasn't Erick? What if it was someone else?
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