New Life Part 4
For some reason I was now beginning to feel a sigh of relief. Yes, I was in this rubber coffin wearing two layers of airtight rubber plus a hooded gas mask attached to a smell bag filled with sweaty personal items. However I knew this was only temporary. This was just for the cameras taping my latest Poor Willy video. Soon we would be back at the hotel and I would be extricated from all this, I could clean up, and we would be on our way to Toronto and we would be leaving the Montreal Fetish Weekend. Unfortunately it appeared that no attempt was made to get me out of all this. I heard muffled voices and things being loaded into the van but no attempt was made to unlock the latches so I could escape this tight rubber prison. Before I knew it the van was moving. I realized then that the die was cast and I am going to be stuck in this situation for at least the next five hours until we reach Toronto. Here I am sealed again in layers of rubber breathing a vile concoction of sweaty undergarment, tightly sealed in this tight rubber box forced to endure who knows what before we finally make it home to Minneapolis. I know, I know, “It makes for a good video”..
The sweat in my inner suit has cooled to the point I am marinating in my own juices. All I can do is lay here in the dark and listen to the constant hum of the tires in the road with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. Once again I marvel at how far I have come from my solo rubber days. Those days seem so far away. Today my rubber play is all about social relationships, first with Sandy, Bobby and the group, and now socializing with fellow rubberiest. Not long ago I was the esoteric head of a major company known only to those who worked for me and a few business acquaintances. Today I am a rubber porn star with an international following. and to think I own it all to my love for rubber.
The five hour trip to Toronto was horrific. I had traveled further trussed up in heavy rubber but the smell bag and its contents made this one of the most wretched situations I have ever found myself in. Five hours seemed like a lifetime. The van finally stopped and once again I heard voices. “Let’s get something to eat then we can feed Willy”. Then the voices trailed off as if they were walking away from the van.
A few minutes later I heard voices and noises assuming that Sandy and the crew were back already. This was anything but the truth. Seems the van was being broken into and they were hastily rummaging through it looking for anything of value when they were interrupted by some passer byes. Because most valuables were locked away in metal cabinets, there was little they could quickly steal. They seemed to be panicking and grabbed a few loose things and started to leave. One of them said “What about this big black thing? It must be worth something.” I soon found out the big black thing was my heavy rubber coffin. “Let’s take it.” With that I was wrestled out of the van and into another vehicle.
Next I knew I was bouncing around and sliding back and forth in what I assume was the back of a pickup. We finally ended up on a long bumpy road before stopping. Next I felt the casket being carried for quite a distance before being placed on what felt like a soft surface. I was left there for hours occasionally hearing voices. Finally I heard someone say “Let’s hide it in the barn. We can come back to check on it later. We better get back to work or else Dad will skin us alive.” Then there was silence.
I lay there for a long time then suddenly I heard footsteps rushing toward me and female voices asking questions like “What in the world is this? Where did it come from?” What do you suppose is inside?”
I thought to myself; I’m inside damn it! With that I heard the latches being opened again. The lid was slowly removed and I was treated to the faces of four young girls who looked to be anywhere from preteen to early twenties. I heard voices screaming, “What is it? Is it some kind of alien?” I felt a hand touch me then quickly pull away. “Its skin is like rubber, thick shiny black rubber”
“Look it has some sort of breathing thing.”
“At least it is breathing”
“What are we going to do with it?”
“We can’t just leave it here.”
“Let’s drag it in the house where we can get a better look at it.”
It? Now I'm an ‘it’? Before I could react, the lid was latched back in place and I was being dragged a long distance into what I assume was the house.
The dragging stopped and the lid was slowly removed once again. “Do you think it is dangerous?”
“I doubt it can hurt us chained up as it is.”
Then I heard someone shout. “Can you hear me? Can you speak?”
I replied but all I could manage was garbled gag speak.
“It must be some kind of alien language.” I went into a tirade screaming into my gag. The lid was quickly snapped shut and latched. “Let’s leave it be until we figure out what to do with it.”
I was again left to myself in the insufferable rubber sarcophagus. Again I heard voices outside seeming to be planning something. Something began to dawn on me. In all this confusion, I forgot that Sandy said she was planning another Poor Willy shoot. Of course. This is it. This explains the stop in the middle of nowhere, the farm, and the “alien” discovery. Little did I know how wrong I was.
Some time passed and once again I heard voices seeming to argue about what to do with the “alien”. The latches were opened and this tie the lid was set aside. I sensed hands all over my rubber covered body. The girls seem concerned about their new discovery. “What do you think Father will do?”
“He’d probably shoot it.”
“Oh no,” screamed the youngest of the girls. “We can’t let that happen.”
“Where can we hide it?”
“We can’t take it back to the barn. That’s the first place Father will go.”
“How about my playhouse?” said a younger girl. “Father never goes there.”
With that the girls reattached the lid and drug me out of the house and into what ended up being an old tool shed that their father must have made into a playhouse for his daughters. All I know is it was hot. It must have been 100ºF (37ºF) in the shed. They dragged me inside and left me in there. I heard a man’s voice calling the girls. Soon I was alone again stewing in the tortuous heat. It got the best of me and I eventually passed out.
When I came to, the lid was off my coffin and I heard a young child singing in French. It was a young girl. My guess is she was perhaps seven or eight years old. I had no idea what she was singing but it seems like some sort of lullaby. My guess is she somehow discovered me and is treating me like her baby. My rubber coffin which became a cocoon is now a cradle. She has a baby bottle and is pretending to feed me. Oh how I wish she was able to do so. I was famished and desperately thirsty. I noticed that it was starting to get dark out. Fortunately the shed was cooling off. She played with her “baby” for about an hour before I heard a man’s voice call out “Eléa, come. It is bedtime.”
“Coming, father.” With that she replaced the lid and covered it with some kind of blanket. Little did she know that she covered my breathing holes in the process. Apparently she was gone and I quickly ran out of air. I panicked and began to push on the lid with all my might. It moved! The little girl did not latch it closed. I managed to push it aside and for the first time in a day was able to sit up and move. This is my chance to escape. Even though I had no idea where I am, I knew that I needed to leave this farm and this all too curious sisterhood of farm girls. Fortunately the sun was setting and soon I could escape in the cover of darkness. There was a corn field next to the shed. I ducked into the field waiting until it was dark enough to get away. Fortunately my black rubber suit would be excellent camouflage once it was dark. I sat in the corn field for about an hour. I figured it was the right time to depart before one of the girls decided to check on me and discover I am gone. My shackled ankles made walking nearly impossible among the corn stocks. I stumbled constantly. I then began to walk along the edge of the corn field just in case I had to dash into the field for cover. The tall grass was not much easier to navigate but I finally found the driveway and managed to slowly shuffle along.
It was pitch black by the time I reached the road. I made no attempt to conceal myself. My hope was someone would see me and report this “alien” to the police so I could be eventually found. I had no idea what I would say or even how I would communicate once I was discovered but I had to take my chances. Several cars drove by but no one stopped. Finally my prayer was answered as a Provincial Police patrol car pulled up with their lights on. Apparently there was a report of an alien on highway ten north of the city near Murphy’s Farm. There were two police officers who both approached me with caution. It was when they saw my shackles that they dropped their guard. They asked a ton of questions and when they discovered I could not answer, they decided to put me in their patrol car and took me to the nearest Toronto Police Service station.
There I was shackled in two layers of heavy black rubber wearing a gas mask, still breathing vile air through a smell bag and now sitting on a bench in a holding room at a Toronto police station. Finally they were kind enough to remove my gas mask. This was a huge relief to finally breathe fresh air. That was as far as they seemed to want to go to release me from my sodden rubber suits. When I arrived I scribbled down Sandy’s phone number. They called her and she told them she would come to the station as quickly as she could. It was over an hour before I finally saw the faces of my friends through the window of my holding cell. I could see that there was a lot of conversation going on out in the hall and eventually officers came in and walked me out of the cell and into the arms of some very relieved friends. I am not sure what Sandy said by way of an explanation as to why this rubber alien was walking a county road at midnight. I didn’t care. I hear one of the officers say “Well there was no law broken here other than some poor judgment when it comes to how you treated your friend here. You may go.” With that we all quickly left and headed for the van. It was a welcome sight.
Once in the van I was quickly stripped of my shackles and outer suit. Steam came out of my suit when they first opened it. They began to towel me off once I was stripped down to my inner suit. “Sorry Will, you will have to endure this sweat filled suit until we reach the hotel.
My gag was finally removed and the room suddenly burst into questions from everyone. Sandy explained how they discovered I was missing but had no clue as to where I was. I told them of the truck ride, the farm, the barn, the girls, the playhouse, the little girl Eléa and how she treated me like I was her baby. This bought a chuckle for the group. I then told them of my escape and detention by the police. “How on earth did you explain me being found in heaven rubber and shackles?” I asked.
Sandy then explained that she told them it was a prank gone wrong. Seemed Poor Willy lost a bet and was dropped off in the middle of nowhere and left to find a way back to the hotel. “I told them we lost sight of you and were chasing around trying to find you.” We all agreed this was a much better story than the truth which would have led to all sorts of investigations and questions which could not be answered. All I could say after that was “Sorry we lost the rubber sarcophagus, coffin, cocoon, crib or whatever. I bet all the kids on the farm will have some great stories to tell their friends.”
It has been a week since we returned for our exploits in Canada. We had some time to dwell on what happened in Montreal and Toronto. I had a chance to review some of the video footage from the trip. Sandy did a masterful job spicing all of the actions together. She said her only regret was not handing a video of my abduction. She said someday she would love to hire some actors to recreate the whole farm scene for the camera. I hoped she was not serious. She did confess that the whole scene with me being accosted by the rubber men at Montreal was a reenactment. It was all play acting, with Bobby pretending that these were the same guys from the Folsom Fair in San Francisco. They were just a group of rubber gut that Sandy talked into playing the part. All of their lines and actions were scripted for the camera. Thanks Sandy!
Beyond that there was little time to reflect back on what happened in Canada. We were busy preparing for our Euro Folsom trip. Most of our plans centered around replicating our presence in Montreal however since it was in Berlin, there was a lot more preparations required. As an example we had to pack up all of our rubber samples, our kiosk, our promotional material and ship it in advance of our travels. We decided that unlike the Folsom Street Fair and the Montreal Weekend, we would not travel in rubber; well maybe a little rubber on my part. We would travel to Berlin two days before the start of the event giving us plenty of time to put on a performance and create a buzz. The day finally came for our flights. I wore my usual rubber hero suit under my clothes. I find it a provocative way to travel, especially on long trips. We arrived in Berlin at ten in the evening. We stayed at the Hotel Schöneberg near Fuggerstr. / Welserstr where many of the events will take place. The Hotel Schöneberg is a modest hotel with an ideal location.
It was Thursday, the first morning of the Folsom weekend. Sandy had yet to tell me of her plans for Poor Willy. As usual the cameras were in place to record this morning's ritual. Sandy started with the customary “Let’s get you dressed” speech. Apparently I would be layered in rubber again.
My first layer would be my thin neck entry rubber suit. I liked the choice as the weather here was supposed to be rather warm. I was gagged again and next came my hooded gas mask with a smell bag. I thought this was an odd choice at this point. Once on I noticed the lens covers were in place and I was blind to what comes next. They sat me down in a chair. I was quite enjoying the moment as it seems they filled my smell bag with new rubber balloons. It was intoxicating. I almost did not notice them sliding a heavy rubber suit up over my legs. They must have lubed the suit as I slipped into it effortlessly. They stood me up and continued to fit me into the suit. I felt the zipper close and a click of padlocks signaling the fact Poor Willy has been reduced to rubber gimp status for today’s showing. They sat me down again.
“Now Willy, here is the surprise we promised.” With that they removed my gas mask and smell bag. Suddenly the genial smell of fresh rubber was replaced by a horrendous stench. Before I could react the attached hood of the suit was violently stretched over my head and zipped shut, a collar added and locked in place. I was once again blind in this heavy rubber hood reeking of all manner of vile odors. Then it dawned on me. I am in THE SUIT, the suit I was forced to wear for over three days while in Paris. There were already two days of sweat and funk in the suit before it was forced into it. That was over a year ago. This suit had been sealed up in plastic with five days of noxious slime fermenting in the suit and now I am once again forced to wear it. I began to scream and thrash about wildly convulsing as the smell nearly overwhelmed me.
“Poor poor Willy. Seems we were too kind to you while we were in Montreal. You tried to escape. That will not happen this time. Enjoy your next three days in your rubber layers.” My screams were reduced to a screech as I began to actually start to cry sobbing in my repulsive rubber suit. “Sorry Poor Will, your suit is sealed and so is your fate.”
Up until now my story regarding the terrible events in Paris was only known by the group and myself. Sandy dropped another bomb. “Do you remember once telling us the Paris story in great detail including all of your trauma and brutality you endured . Little did you know that I videotaped you telling this story and parts of that tape will be the prelude to this Poor Willy video. Everyone will know the significance of the suit you now wear. Not only that, our advance crew has spread the same story to some of the German groups who plan to be here at Euro Folsom. Expect to be the pity of everyone you meet.” With that the group stood me up and prepared me for the show.
Since I was totally blind again, walking me through the show would be a tedious and somewhat dangerous task. Sandy was prepared for this. Bobby’s group came to the rescue. They fabricated what can only be described as a rolling gimp cart. This cart was made out of polished stainless steel. It resembled a hand truck with wheels. It has a tubular steel frame up the back with arms welded to the frame. Each arm has adjustable steel clamps that clamp my wrists, waist, feet and head essentially holding me rigid to the frame. This will allow the group to wheel me out into the crowd and put me on display like some sort of pillory imprisoning me and putting me on view for the public amusement. Bobby described the cart in detail but neglected to mention the plaque at the base which states ” Here stands the real Poor Willy. This is his penalty for trying to escape. See his complete punishment on the next installment of POOR WILLY AT EURO FOLSOM at www.poorwilly.com/eurofolsom.
It was finally time to wheel the Poor Willy rolling rubber gimp out in full view of his public. No doubt my attempts to struggle and protest were well recorded on camera. After all “it makes for a good video”. The heat was intense and it medially began to permeate my rubber layers. Fortunately for those around me, this was a one way street. Absolutely none of the horrid stench that was contained within these suits betrayed the wretched odor that encapsulated my body in this airtight suit. I was received with great enthusiasm judging from the reaction from the crowd as we entered Welserstrasse. There was an ample number of gasps as some seemed to recoil at my sight but most seemed to find my situation entertaining, some to the point that they cheered as I was pushed by. I spent the entire day in the hot sun strapped to this cart. I was occasionally moved but wherever I went the responses of shock and awe were present.
It must have been afternoon when I heard familiar voices. It was Sandy and our crew and they were joined by Natasha. “Hi Poor Willy. Are you OK in there?” Natasha purred. Why do they always ask that knowing that I am in pure misery.
Then Sandy spoke up. “We are going to turn you over to Natasha’s care. She has some plans for you that we can not be a part of. Goodbye for now Willy. We will see you on Sunday.”
Sunday!?! But it is Thursday, Sunday is three whole days away. NO God NO! NOT THREE DAYS! NOT IN THIS SUIT! With that I was wheeled away to who knows where. Eventually the din of the crowd slowly faded as we exited the Folsom area. I was soon wheeled into some type of vehicle and we were moving.
The vehicle stopped and I was unloaded. No one spoke. The only sound was my wheels on concrete. We entered a building and were soon on an elevator. I stopped and was wheeled into a room of some kind. All this was way too familiar to my adventures while in Paris. “Well Willy, we are in my studio. Don't worry. We will take good care of you tonight and tomorrow. We have some friends who want to meet you again. They are from Paris and are looking forward to getting reacquainted with their Willee. Oh and don’t worry. No matter what happens we are obliged to Sandy not to let you out of this suit at any time. You will be nice and cozy in your rubber layers until at least Sunday. I nearly collapsed at the sound of those words. How will I ever survive wearing an airtight suit which by Sunday will have acquired a total of eight days worth of filth, sweat and all manner of vile secretions.
“Let’s get Willy comfortable for the evening. First off I bet he is thirsty after all the sweating in the hot sun. Let’s hydrate him. Stilt clamped to the cart and unable to move I felt hose being attached to my gag tube. Then I heard fomenting being mounted above my head. “We don’t want to give you too much liquid at once so we installed a drip device that will give you a steady dose of liquid over the next few hours. We’ve mixed in some nutrients to keep you nourished. OK girls, let's add his special drink.”
With that I heard liquid being poured into a container mounted above my head. “Here goes. Don’t drink too fast.” they must have opened a valve and a small amount of liquid reached my mouth. It was then that I discovered it was piss. I was drinking piss. I almost choked at the first taste of it. “That’s a good boy Willy. The girls and I gave of ourselves to make sure you had plenty to drink. See you in a bit.” I was left to attempt to swallow piss as it steadily trickled down my throat. The taste was awful.
It must have been hours before I was sucking air again through my mouth gag tube. “Well Willy you must have been very thirsty. Glad we could help. Let’s get you settled for the night. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
The girls began to unclip me from the gimp cart. I nearly collapsed once I was free. They almost had to carry me to a waiting bondage rack. I was strapped to the rack. Once secure I was given my sentence for the night. “Seems you are being punished for trying to escape while in Toronto. For this heinous crime you are sentenced to service all three of us girls one by one. Since your normal ‘tools of service’ are sealed away in your rubber suits, we will find another means for you to perform. Girls, get the gas mask.”
With that a gas mask was strapped tightly over my head and a hose attached to the mask. “In exchange for your man tool, we have attached a sniff dildo to your breathing hose. Don”t worry there are a few breathing holes to get air. That is unless the dildo is fully inserted which will probably be most of the time. Enjoy Willy. I know we will.”
As I lay there strapped to a bondage rack wearing a heavy rubber suit ladened with bile secretions, blind, and gagged, my situation was about to go from bad to worse. One minute I am breathing. The next few minutes I am gasping for air as the sniff dial is plunged time after time into the nether region of one of Natasha’s girls. Over and over my air is cut off and I am forced to breathe air daunted with vaginal secretions. This ordeal went on for what seemed like forever. Over and over I heard the sounds of lust and erotic passion until the last person was “served.” “Thank you Willy. You performed well. We will leave you now. Sleep tight.” This was followed by laughter and silence.
My night was miserable. I was hot and saturated with the sweat of the day combined with four days of disgusting filth, strapped to a bondage bench in the studio of a dominatrix who obviously has sinister plans for me. All I can do is lay there with the taste of raw piss still in my mouth breathing through a gas mask plus judging from the smell, still has the smell dildo attached. I don’t know which is worse, enduring all this agony or not knowing what evil plans lay ahead. I eventually fall into a restless sleep.
I woke up to the same misery as last night. I lay there for what seemed like hours before I began to hear voices. “Good morning Willy. Did you sleep well?” This was followed by sinister laughter. “We have plans for you today. Some you will enjoy and some you will not. Let’s get started.”
My mind goes into overdrive. I have seen and read of all the different types of sessions Natasha and her girls can provide. Some of them like penis and anal torture, e-stims, and breath play. Forcing me to stay in this suit does provide me some protection from many of these tortures. Makes me wonder what torment was left for me. “I think we need to get you up and get you out for some fresh air.” I am unstrapped from the bondage rack and clamped back into the gimp cart. I am still wearing the gas mask assuming this will be part of their plans.
“Are we ready girls?” With that I was wheeled out of the studio and back into the street. I immediately felt the heat of the sun on my heavy rubber. I am put back into a vehicle and driven to what I assume is the Folsom area. Once there I am removed from the car and we are greeted by a crowd of voices surrounding us. “Let’s get you ready for your admirers. We have a real treat for you.” Someone was playing with the end of my gas mask hood. Then it hit me…literally. The smell of piss was intense. Apparently a large rubber bag of piss was attached to the end of my hose which functioned as a large bubble breather. I could hear it frothing in the bag as I struggled to breathe. The smell was intense and it was excruciatingly difficult to breathe. Each breath was arduous. They began to wheel me into the crowd announcing as we moved. “Make way for Poor Willy.” The crowd responded with cheers. I was groped, mauled, and molested by anyone and everyone as we made our way to the heart of the group of merrymakers. I spent what I assume was most of the day dressed as I was attempting to breathe, inhaling the pungent smell for piss. This all abruptly ended with a familiar voice. A voice that I had hoped I would never hear again.
“Hi Willee. Remember me from Paris?”
Natalie chimed in, “Willy I have an old friend who wants to say hello. This is Tommy. You remember, from Paris.”
“Yes Willee, it is me, Tommy. I am in Berlin with my potes. I am sure you remember all the rubber guys from Paris. We are all happy to see you again. We are looking forward to having you join our fun here in Berlin…”
My heart sank. So this is the bombshell everyone was alluding to. I am once again going to be left in the hands of a group of the most sadistic men I have ever known. I was awash with both fear and despair. They quickly took over the gimp cart and wheeled me off. “Goodbye Willy. It is good to know that we left you in good hands.” They continued to push me through the crowd as I heard Natalie’s voice trailing off. No doubt I was going to once again be the focal point of perverted depravity at the hands of this pestilent group of rubber men. I began to hear other voices shortly after my abduction by Tommy. These voices were all too happy to see me. “King Willee is back.” was followed by cheers and jeers from the group. “We have some great plans for you.”
The group moved me quite a distance before stopping. “Let’s get him ready.” With that the gas mask was removed and for the first time in hours I was able to freely breathe fresh air. This only lasted for a few moments when a rubber hood was stretched over my head adding to the torturous blind hood I was wearing. The smell in the hood was wretched. It was a combination of sweat and old cum. My breathing was once again impaired. Every breath was both a struggle and a vile experience.
“There doesn’t he look like a good little doggy drone? Woof woof!.”
“Sorry we have not cleaned the mask since its last use. The mask you are wearing is a silicone rubber doggy drone mask. It covers your whole head and only has one opening which is aligned squarely with your mouth. Too bad you are hooded and gazed or we could show you the true purpose of this mask. Frankly it is for sucking cock. We use this hood a lot for new pups in our group. Probably twenty guys have been forced to suck cock in this hood before we put it on you. There just might be some leftovers in there by now.” This was followed by raucous laughter from the group. “Let’s show you off Willee.” I was then wheeled back into the crowd.
This is how I spent the rest of the day being wheeled through the crowd jeered and taunted by nearly everyone we passed. I was once again exhausted. My arms and legs were in agony from being forced to stand spread armed clamped in the cart for the entire day. This was great for all those who wished to grope me as my entire rubber covered body was open and available to them. As for me it was torturous. After suffering like this for hours, I was finely unclamped from the cart. My legs could no longer hold me up so I was carried to a waiting wheelchair. This brought back even more vexatious memories of my past misadventures in Paris.
I next found myself being wheeled into what seems to be a much larger group. They began to chant “Hail King Willee.” as I entered. With that something was perched on top of my head which I could only guess was a crown. I was told that I was a special guest at the annual “Pig Party” complete with a special presentation later in the evening.
The ‘Pig Party’ or the ‘PiG Berlin’ has a reputation for being the hottest and dirtiest party of Folsom. It is also the main party of this fetish weekend. At this party PiG has set up lots of extra equipment to cover all kinds of fetishes. This party is for “Men Only” and all fetish styles are welcome: leather, patent, rubber, naked, whatever. It does not matter what age or body type you are, more important is the desire to party and live out your own fetish together with other guys. Rubber clad Poor Willy should fit right into this collection a fetish freaks all lusting for some form of debauchery.
I was left sitting somewhere off to the side with nothing but hard Tekkno music pounding in my ears. Occasionally I would hear a voice scream something in my ear but the music was too loud to make it out. It was well into the night when someone began moving me into what ended up being the middle of the room.
The music stopped and Tommy’s voice came over a microphone. “Good evening. We have a special guest here this evening. This lovely gimp you see before you is nothing less than King Willee, also known to his followers as Poor Willy. Yes, the actual real life Poor Willy. He came to the Folsom Weekend expecting to enjoy the fun. Here to help explain Willy’s special weekend is an old friend, Shay.”
“Hi Willee, Shay here. Glad to see me? That’s right he can not see anything in the suit. He is also gagged and to top it off he is wearing a very special heavy rubber suit. You see contained within Willy’s suit is at least five days worth of funk, sweat, piss, and cum. I know because I contributed two days worth before Willy was forced to wear it. That whole experience was nearly a year ago. Since then the suit has been sealed up with all that lovely cocktail of human waste marinating inside. He is now forced to wear the same vile concoction in this suit since Thursday. If he is lucky he might be let out before he goes back to the States on Tuesday. I freak out at the thought of wearing this suit that long and the crowd goes wild at my violent protests. “Here is a toast to King Willee, poor poor King Willie. May whatever they find left in that suit after all these days continue to be worthy of the name Poor Willy.” The crowd cheered and applauded as Shay reached down and plugged my breathing hole extending my panic stricken hysteric. The crowd went wild.
“Then Tommy spoke up and said, “Let’s give King Willee one final treat while he is here. Somebody get a vibrator.” The crowd let out another cheer. Soon someone, I am assuming it was Shay, unceremoniously shoved a vibrator into my groin. It had been some time since my last cum and it did not take much for me to respond, and respond I did. I immediately began to buck and shake as the vibrator continued to incessantly violate me with a vengeance not stopping even for a second. I had no choice as my cardinal lust over took me and I had an immense orgasm right in front of this mob of sex crazed cretins. I began to scream in my rubber gag. All I saw were stars in my black double rubber hoods. The crowd went wild.
I recovered from my spectacle and was eventually wheeled out of the party and out into the streets where to my surprise I was abandoned. Without a word I was left somewhere on a street in Berlin, in the dark, in a heavy rubber suit, wearing a silicon doggy drone hood. My only satisfaction was that the night was cool. I must have been there for what felt like hours when suddenly I was being wheeled off. I tried to grunt something through my gag but there was no response. Who has me? I was wheeled for blocks without any sense as to who or what is behind all this much less what will happen to me next. Eventually I was wheeled into a building and taken somewhere on an elevator then eventually to some room where I was left helplessly sitting in a wheelchair for hours. The only sound I heard the entire time was the sound of a door closing behind me.
I am once again left alone to try to endure and try to contemplate my fate. I have no idea where I am, who brought me here nor what will happen to me next. What I do know is that I am helplessly strapped to a wheelchair, forcibly sealed and locked in a heavy rubber suit filled with eight day old sweat, cum, and piss left to marinate in noxious sweat of vile human secretions. The stench in this suit is putrid to the level I feel like retching.. I am wearing a blind hood with a massive mouth gag, while also wearing some sort of heavy rubber dog hood making breathing a challenge. To top it off I have worn most of this for the last two days suffering and adding even more and more vile excretions to the already bloated suit.
Once again my fate is sealed and so am I.