Put Away

My eyes itch again. This is the worst part. Parts of my body itch and there’s nothing I can do. It seems like theres never anything I can do anymore. Not since I’ve been put away. I don’t know how long its been anymore. Weeks probably, months possibly since I last saw light. Hours since I’ve been able to move. I hate it and I love it at the same time.

It wasn’t always this way. In 2001, we got married. Things were normal, if a little spicy, in the bedroom.  I’ve always had a natural submissive side. She’s always a bit dominant. About a couple years after we were married, we had one scene in particular that changed everything. She gave me a blue zentai for my birthday. The lycra bodysuit clung to me like a second skin with just a mouth hole and a zipper to expose my crotch and ass. She said she loved the way it looked on me. I could barely see through the spandex over my eyes but what I saw got me super hard. All my features disappeared. I became a mannequin, an object, a toy for her use. She tied me down to the futon that night and had me service her. I did as I was told and when satisfied with my tongue, she wordlessly got up and walked out of the room.

I couldn’t really see where she went. I could vaguely make out the ceiling through the spandex, but it was getting dark in the room – around sunset on Sunday.  As the room got gradually darker, I realized that she seemed to think of me as a toy. As her property. What I wanted, no longer mattered – at least for tonight. At some time during the night, I was startled back awake by her straddling my face and hearing one word from her. “Lick,” she said. So lick, I did. She rode my mouth to another orgasm and wordlessly got up and left the room. I fell back asleep, hard as a rock.

It was morning when I awoke again, judging from the light in the room – early morning. I see her shadow over me as she straddled me like the night before and had me service her again. I was aching for the bathroom and for release but she ignored anything I said. Finally, after I serviced her properly. She untied me and let me use the bathroom. We talked over breakfast about what we’d done. She said that losing my identity in the zentai turned her on more than anything. And that the idea of turning her husband into an object just kept for her pleasure was becoming a sexual obsession for her. She had to try it out, and it was everything she hoped for.

She asked me how I felt about it. She reached down and felt how I felt about it. I didn’t need to say a word to her, but I told her that I loved the feeling myself. There was something liberating about giving myself that fully to her. Losing myself completely. I was tied down for 12 plus hours, but it only felt like two or three. I literally lost time.

After that night, we starting playing this scene out more often. The time frame would become longer, the situations more complex. Weekends in the zentai turned into vacations in the zentai. Eventually she insisted that I stay in the zentai whenever at home. I loved the feeling of being covered in the slinky spandex, I was only too happy to oblige her. She started putting me away in a hall closet. We took out everything the day before and had me build a shelf where I could be put away. It had built in restraints and before long, I was in the closet more often than not. Sometimes, she’d just forget about me for the entire weekend. Put away on Friday night, taken out Monday morning. I was hard the whole time, and got harder still when she told me Monday morning that she’d completely forgotten about me for about half the weekend.

I started getting new wardrobe changes. Over time, the zentai was replaced by a latex catsuit. Earplugs started to become routine. My pants included a hollow dildo over my own cock. She would ride it all the time, and I stayed hard but felt nothing. Somehow, that got me even hotter. We’d been playing like this for a couple years now. Sometimes, I’d hear her bring home other men as I sat wordlessly, blankly, gagged and bound in the closet. In public, we were the perfect couple. In private, I was literally just becoming a thing to her.

It was 2006 when she stopped using my name altogether in the house. Any comments towards me were one sentence commands. When I asked her once, she said – “Its getting hard to even remember your name these days, so what’s the point?” A few weeks after that, she geared me up after work, but told me that she wasn’t putting me away tonight. “I have a new idea.” This was something I would learn to love, hate and most of all live with.

She rolled out a board from under the bed. It had a plastic frame on it with latex sheeting on it and a breathing tube. “This is a vac bed”, she said. “It literally seals you up, and this is how we’ll be putting you away sometimes.” In I went, and I heard the vacuum turn on. Everything got tighter and tighter, I was being vacuum sealed! Finally the noise stopped, but air didn’t come back. My only connection to the outside world was the breathing tube in the bag stuffed in my mouth. I thought I sensed her riding my dildo sheath through the vac bed. I thought I heard her say “Fantastic,” as she rolled me under the bed.

At first, I was still in the closet most of the time. But over the weeks and months that followed, I was put in the vac bed. Within a year, it became my home – spending nearly every night sealed up and put away. When the recession hit, my industry was hit hard. I lost my job – and job opportunities had dried up completely. My wife, a college professor, had tenure and so we weren’t in dire straits by any means. So she asked me to stop looking.

The next day, she said she had a present for me. It was a new hood. This one didn’t have eye holes, just a mouth hole. She had me service her, and she put me away. Sealed up in the vac bed. That was the last time I really saw her – or anyone for that matter. Every so often the hood is taken off and the rubber all comes off and I’m given a nice gentle bath. But its dark when she does it, and I haven’t really seen her face. I couldn’t tell you what day it is, or what month it is. I’m not even sure if it’s 2009 yet. I just know I’ve become my wifes toy. Used to her content. Bringing her to orgasm, servicing her new lovers, whatever she wants.

When I’ve fulfilled her need, she puts me away. Into the vac bed, and I hear the noise and I’m sealed right back up. Sometimes, the noise is enough to put me over the edge and give me an orgasm. Sometimes the total immobility does it for me. Sometimes,  the fact that she probably doesn’t even remember my name anymore does it for me. (She refers to me as ‘it’ now.) But what makes me feel warm inside. What makes me happy is knowing that I’ve given the only woman I’ve ever loved everything I could possibly give her, and she’s taken it completely.

28.07.09