Robaylesbury

Author's Note: I’ve wanted to imagine a scenario whereby a submissive male was subjugated to extended long term bondage, and to face up to the real challenges this would present. I have experienced many of the things described, but not over the extended time period cited. Part 1 He had been hinting heavily that he’d wanted to explore long term captivity for some time. Subtle and not so subtle hints, each time probing away and sounding her out. Her response hadn’t been entirely dismissive, but it hadn’t been exactly enthusiastic either. She argued practicalities, reminding him that fantasies were one thing but the real world didn’t lend itself to his ideas. Undeterred, he asked whether the kids could go and stay at their grandparents for a few days, suggesting that this might give them a little more space to explore. Beneath the surface he was beginning to annoy her with his persistence, and she could feel that his focus had switched from meeting her needs to seeking his own. And this wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. For months the balance had been perfect, and now here he was, clumsily promoting his own agenda, souring the mood music of what had become a rich and rewarding relationship. So unbeknown to him she conceived of a plan so devious that he would get to realise his fantasy, and face up to what this meant in the real world. ...

He was alone in a carpeted room. White walls, no windows, a single door directly ahead of the chair to which he was bound, a chair that itself had been bolted to the floor. He was naked, apart from the six strap suspender belt and sheer 10 denier black nylons she had cajoled him into donning. His erection was a bar of lead pointing up towards the single white light bulb over head. His wrists were securely behind his back, reams of rope subduing him, the same coil also securing the wrists to the chair itself. His ankles were lashed to each chair leg, and his knees were secured also. More rope was taut around his torso, keeping him securely in place. Last, a two inch ball gag with chin strap. She had forced it deep into his mouth and the buckle bit into the back of his head, whilst the chin strap was so tight that his mouth was forced down around the ball. She had taken particular delight in applying it, moments after a long lingering kiss that had left him wanting so much more. That had been two hours ago; in the interim he had heard her running a bath, soft music a gentle background embrace. One or twice he had heard her on the phone to friends, discussing the normal and the mundane, no indication as to what she done to her husband. Tonight was the culmination of several months since he had learned of her love of bondage and control. To her it was about the visual and the psychological. She had opened up and spoken at length about the sense of empowerment she experienced when he gave himself over to her. For his part she was the answer to every fantasy he had ever dared flirt with, a living manifestation of a women he feared would only exist in his mind. Only he had been wrong; she was the dominatrix he had longed for during those years alone. ...