Saturday, March 21, 2009

Asylum Celebrates 25!

My Fellow Inmates,


Welcome to the 25th blog... This means Asylum could actually keep far enough away from the bottle to remember what the hell he was doing and complete a task to a milestone…


Yay me!


So let’s talk turkey and see what we got on the plate for this evening, shall we?


Twenty-five blogs… this means either I have a hell of a lot more to say than anyone else on Guyzingear, or I am just in desperate need of a gag… not sure, and lets not dwell on that too long, k? Ok… moving forward…


The key to a lasting diatribe is to figure out what worked and what didn’t so we can move forward in the future…


So…


Song of the week: Stupid… Axed… Next!

Pissing on R***n’s Shoes… Works for me…

Carpe Noctem: Seems to be popular. Part 3 shall be worked on Saturday afternoon. Part 4 is already planned. Wait to see what happens once we get out of the padded cell… More on that later…

The Devil & the rubber boy: A story just waiting to follow in Carpe Noctem’s shoes… You have no idea where Asylum intends to take this one… Thank you to Latex05 who retrieved this one from Rubberzone’s grasp…

Tales of boys falling in to Asylum’s clutches… Always, if you also want to find yourself another statistic of the Asylum… email me… who knows J

Serious improper overuse of the ellipsis (…) you bet your sweet Bippy!

I enjoy what I do. I don’t apologize for what I say. I am feisty, opinionated, and I shoot straight. I ask… no actually I demand the same from those I associate and play with…


Why?


Well frankly it all comes down to one thing… Trust.


We play hard, we play rough… You are gagged, or trussed up, and you are required to find the mindset that what is happening is out of your control. Safety is always guaranteed but once you find that mind space where you feel you can’t call “mercy” to the edges of your nerves being plucked, you will find new spaces to hide in… This is where we want to take you.


It doesn’t always work, and some times it takes the right person to float to this space… but all in all the bottom line is that you push yourself.


You always have the ability to call emergency, but that’s it… no outs, no stops, only true emergency. Gagged, locked down and pushed… pushed hard…


Without trust you can’t go there. Without handing trust I can’t take you. I had a friend recently tell me from his observations I tend to take people to places they didn’t realize they could go…


I don’t agree with this.


I think some people fear me, and with that it helps the mind set that they have when they play with me. Fear allows deeper play no matter how hard I may or may not push. It allows a flexible mind.


If you are not open we will go nowhere. If you are unable to open your mind to deeper concepts or control endorphins through pain play, then we shall only go as far as the mental limits you have set in place.


I can give you the instructions to the proper pathways. If you are willing to give in and listen to me as we walk together. I am happy to drag you behind me, but with that it still requires your consent.


And with that it also requires trust. I have actually had a boy lie to a friend of mine recently. He will never play with me. As my friend stated as deep as we play; to break that trust once… its over. It will never happen.


I agree whole heartedly…


If all you want to do is play tie up games go elsewhere…


If you truly want to be taken, be yourself and seek out a Top that can take you places you have never dreamed. Trust requires honestly. With yourself, with them, with what you want. A single lie can take you to places you have never wanted to go. I know people that have learned this lesson the hard way…


Scat anyone?


Here is to another 25! J



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

Friday, March 20, 2009

Guess Who's Back, Back again....

My Fellow Inmates,


Recently this blog has become a one track mind about the new updates to the story of Carpe Noctem, and although the 3rd part is already nearing its final stages, we are going to step away from that for all those who could frankly give a shit about bondage porn…


If you want my honest thoughts though, I think you people need to seek help and seek it now, but to each their own, right?... People that don’t like reading bondage porn how weird is that?... J


So with that said… as you can tell from my not too subtle subject line I wish to talk about the homophobic bastard Marshall Mathers (Eminem for those not in the know).


You see many years ago Asylum decided to rewrite a few of his songs into a medley called “What if Eminem were gay?”


Yes, Asylum has always been a cynical asshole…


Recently I was leafing through some old boxes and ran across my writings. Since they have never seen the light of day before as they were only written for my own disturbed satisfaction, I figured this would be the perfect forum to share…


A few of you will appreciate, a few wont care, a few won’t get it, and a few are still saying Marshall who?

So with that said....



‘Commin’ out of my closet’




Have you ever been phillated or gyrated against?
I have
I have even mated with jail bait an then I get
Picket signs for my sexual crimes;
All because I
Stuck my dick up my motherfucking boyfriends behind
All this commotion, emotion
Over my dick explodin
Tempers flaring from parents
Cause I tied up their 16 year old
I tie up their nuts and I blow ‘em
They’re on their knees when I’m peein
Eat out their ass in the morning
Kick ‘em out in the evening
They’re leavin’
Their DNA on my couch
See they can finger me…
But they’ll never empty me out
Take a bow
You probably thought they’d have a cow
But all you did was make them want to play with me now

I'm sorry mama,
I never meant to hurt you,
I never meant to make you cry,
But tonight I'm commin' out my closet,
{one more time},
I said I'm sorry mama,
I never meant to hurt you,
I never meant to make you cry,
But tonight I'm commin’ out my closet...




‘My Name Is’




Hi Kids, You like Cannabis?
Wanna get completely fucked up and listen to Janis?
Wanna Copy me and look at the planets?
Listen to the Gay Philosopher talking about Uranus?

My Brain’s dead weight
I can’t get my head straight
But I can’t figure out
Which Nsync member to impregnate

Dr Dre Said:
“Slim Shady you’ve been basting”
“Uh-uh”
“Then why’s your face red? Man you’re wasted”

Well since before I was a man
I listened to Streisand
And wanted to get
Rudolph Valentino in the can

Got Pissed of
Ripped John Wayne Bobbitt’s dick off
And said
“How you supposed to fuck me when it’s this soft”?

Excuse be for being crass
But I like to take it up the ass
Like Affleck and Damon
In Good Will Hunting’s class

“Shady, wait a minute…”
“… That’s my girl, Dog!”
You’re right, she’s a dog
I’d rather fuck Billy Ray Cyrus, Ya’ll

Hi! My Name is…
What?
My Name is…
Who?
My Name is…
Slim Shady
(Repeat)

My English Teacher wanted to fuck me in the 8th grade
Said he saw me strutting my shit in the local pride parade

So I grabbed him by the tits
Told him there was no fucking way I’d switch
As I looked at him and said
“On your knee’s bitch!”

Missing testicled
Small dicked republicans
Thinking lesbians
Just need a man in between them

Most of my life I’ve been lied to
Just found out my dad sucks more dick than I do

I’m Steamin Mad
And by the way when you see my dad
Tell him I bought that porno mag
And saw his ad…

Hi! My Name is…
What?
My Name is…
Who?
My Name is...
Slim Shady
(Repeat)




So, at the start of all of this blog crap I promised you that Asylum is all over the board with his thoughts, and anyone who actually follows my ramblings will be treated to some of the most random things that could possibly cross my mind…


Tonight, I came up with my subject line and it just went from there..

"Oh! I should post the Eminem parody!"

Perhaps it was a good idea… perhaps not… perhaps I need seditives and restraints... Yes Please J


Beyond all of that... the 3rd part of the story is on its way, the next blog post is number 25, and I have since found out I actually have some followers of my blog. To all those who actually come out to read my ramblings purposefully, I thank you.


I have fun writing these when I get the inclination, and sometimes I don’t even know what insanity is liable to pour out when I sit down here to type.


For those who may have just stumbled upon this accidently and are not sure what to make of this at the moment… just stay where you are help is on its way, enough chemicals in your blood stream and you will start thinking like I do… granted this means your families will really worry about you…


But hell, let’s be honest, if they knew half the story anyway, most of us would be locked up…

It would be an entertaining institution to be in though... Lots of fresh meat... It gets lonely locked up in here alone J



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Story: Carpe Noctem Part 1

Carpe Noctem (Seize the Night) Part 1



Dave had asked me to meet him at the airport; I had arrived In Philly 4 hours before he was scheduled to. This was the vacation that he had hounded me to go on for years. We were out here to meet his parents; he finally was going to introduce me to them as his lover. Our travel agent screwed things up so we ended up on two different flights, arriving at two different times.

By now you are saying ‘OK, we figured out who Dave is, but who are you?’ Well dear reader, my name is Joe: 24, 6’2” 168 slim, trim, fit…All right, so I am a twinkie, but beyond my outward appearance was a darker side that I never had the guts to tell Dave. I wanted to experience a new world full off control, and lack there of. I wanted to experience the feel of synthetics that escalated the very essence of my soul the very way that no normal sexual encounter could. To be held captive in layers of head to toe rubber, where my only connection to the outside world is the soft sting of the straps biting into my skin when I attempt to readjust my sore muscles. I had fantasized about this many times, but up until this point, I had never found the courage to try.

However, as they say, no guts no glory, and guts was an area I was severely deficient in. My online friends teased me about it all the time, flaunting their exploits in my face like waving food in front of a starving child. What was I doing about it? Nothing, a small collection of rubber gloves that I kept hidden in the shed out back, and every once in a while I would creep into Dave’s Shop and play with the Scott respirator that he used for heavy painting jobs. It was sad, Pitiful really. I mean I loved Dave, and knew that I could spend a Vanilla relationship with him for the rest of my life… However, before I did, I needed some chocolate.

John was just the person I needed, He said he had a lot of gear, but then again so did everyone else I chatted with online. He was different though, non-commanding, laid back, defiantly not your typical hardcore whip me spank me type that I had grown so tired of in the online chat rooms of late. John had said that his interest was keeping me in my gear, rather than stripping me out of it once he had me in his command like so many others that I had spoken with. That was about all I knew about him. I wanted it that way, and so did he. It added a level of pure intensity to the meeting.

We had discussed the plan in-depth online, up until the part where I would hand full control to him. John had no picture posted in his profile, only a shadowy picture of a corner of his playroom showing lots of rubber gear. Now one would think that this would send red flags waving violently, but this fact only made the fantasy more intense for me. I was about to have my dreams come true: Taken by someone I do not know, in a town I am not familiar with, and nobody knows where I am going. Oh yeah, and did I mention, I had not cum for two weeks because Dave had been very busy at work getting ready for the vacation. It was needless to say, my brain had long since slipped into my shorts.

I slipped the instruction sheet, which John had given me online, out of the pocket of my carryon, as I gathered up my bags in the airport. I headed over to the rental car counter and concentrated on keeping my hand from shaking as I handed the woman across the counter my visa card. The only thing she had left was a 1980’s two-tone ford rust-bucket. I told her that it really did not matter as she handed me the keys.

It took me fifteen minutes to locate the POS, and load my bags into the back. Driving through the unfamiliar streets I finally found what I was looking for. ‘Lets see’, I said to myself as I read my scrawled instructions off the sheet, ‘right at the corner of Pine and Blanchard, second house on the left. Park in the carport out back.’ I was finally here, pulling the car into the open space next to a black Ducati, I quickly scanned the rest of the instructions and stuffed the sheet back in the pocket of my backpack, and then I stuffed the bag out of sight on the passenger floor.

After I made sure that the car was locked, I slipped the keys into my pocket and headed towards the stairs leading up to the back door. I rang the buzzer quickly three times, per John’s instructions. I heard some banging around in the home for a minute or two, and then finally the door opened.

I was not prepared for the sight that awaited me behind the opened door. Here stood a head to toe skintight rubber that accentuated his heavily muscled frame. He wore black leather knee high boots that begged the shine that only saliva could bring. His head was covered in a hooded full-face respirator with tented lenses that completely obscured his identity. “Yes?” he said nonchalantly, like I was a neighbor just popping by to barrow a cup of sugar.

“John?” I asked with a bit of trepidation.

“Yes, and you must be Joe. Come on in.” he motioned with his hand invitingly.

I heard the door close behind me as I walked into the Kitchen. I had gotten no more than ten feet in when he reached around from behind me, leaned his head on my shoulder, and gave me a deep hug. The smell of his latex clad body sent my mind into overdrive. “John, I…” I could feel my brow start to dampen and my pace flush, as my cock was starting to salute this man’s efforts. “…I… I mean, please remember I have only about two hours before I have to start heading back to the airport.” I managed to gasp out in-between the heavy panting that had set in.

“Not to worry my young rubber pup.” He replied. “I don’t wish to scare you off, I figured we could just chat, and I could show you some of my gear.” With every syllable, a small puff of latex laden air would escape from the port on his mask and right into my face.

“I would love to see some of your gear.” I replied with my eyes closed, attempting to keep myself under control.

With that he broke the embrace, leaving me standing there feeling like I was left hanging in the moment. I turned around slowly, in a daze, to see where he had gotten off to, only to find him standing at an open doorway with stairs leading down. “So then, your first test of courage....” He said motioning down the stairs, “…Is to follow me down the rabbit hole, Alice.”

I giggled slightly, and figured what the hell, I was already here, and there was no harm in seeing his gear, since we really did not have time to get too in depth into anything. Stepping past him, I started down the stairs with him right behind me. I realized, as I got about halfway down the long staircase, the closer we got to the bottom, the more pungent the smell of rubber was becoming. Upon reaching the landing, I was greeted by a small empty concrete room. A large metal door adorned one wall. John walked past me, pulled a set of keys out from some unknown pocket, and unlocked the four deadbolts on the door.

As the door swung open, we entered a room with the floor and walls covered in white tiling. A stainless steel exam table was bolted to the floor in the center, and a gurney with a bright orange mattress was covered in straps in one corner. I noticed, as we walked across the room to a set of double doors, that the floor slanted on all four sides, to a drain situated in the center, and the eyebolts that I noticed embedded into the ceiling beams above left me wondering what kind of tortures had played out here in the past.

I was quickly brought back to reality as John placed a gloved hand on my shoulder and motioned for me to open the doors, and I will tell you now that I was not prepared for what awaited me behind them. It was a large walk in closet, and deep, stuffed with racks upon racks of black latex. The smell was a sensory overpowering mix of rubber, sweat, piss, and cum. “Go ahead,” I could hear John say from behind me, “Your welcome to take something down if you would like.”

I was like a kid in a candy store as I reached out for the gloved sleeve end of an all-encompassing suit that sat on the rack before me. It was beautiful, apart from the attached gloves; it also had booties, a cock and ball sheath, and an attached hood. I let the soft material slide back and forth through my fingers, as my dick grew ever larger within the confines of my Levis. Looking sheepishly over my shoulder, I lifted the suit up to my nose and took in a deep breath of its sweet and heady aroma.

John walked up next to me and took the suit out of my hands, “Ah,” a raspy sound of excitement emanated through the speech diaphragm on the mask as his head tilted slightly to the side as if he were viewing me in a whole new light. “I see you have good taste, this is very similar to the suit I am wearing, with a few minor modifications of course. Would you like to try it on?”

I hesitated a bit, my instilled morals were brawling with my libido, and I was not sure which way to turn. I did not know what to say, I panicked “I would love to John… “ I replied in an attempt to sound sincere, “… but, we really have to watch the time, Dave and I have been having some problems recently, and I’m afraid that he would drop me like a bad habit if I fucked this up and didn’t meet him at the airport on time. I know it sounds shallow, but his parents will be waiting for us, and their opinion means the world to him. I wish to make sure that I do whatever I can to make him happy.”

“Very noble.” John replied as he removed the suit from its hanger.

“Yea, I try.” I replied sarcastically as I rolled my eyes.

“So what’s in it for you?” he asked slipping the hanger back onto the rack.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. You sound like you spend your life trying to make him happy. You have already told me that he isn’t a part of the world that you were born into, and he has no interest in fulfilling your ‘sick’ desires, so one again, what’s in it for you?”

I faltered a bit on that answer. This was something that I had asked myself for a long time; what was in it for me? “Companionship, “I finally replied. “ Someone to be there for you emotionally. Someone to grow old with. Someone who cares.”

“What about love, compatibility, and complete submission?” He said as he started slowly unzipping the suit.

“No disrespect meant, John, but I think you’re living in a bit of a dream world. Love fades after time, and turns into comfort and contentment. As for complete submission, I do not believe it is possible. Life has a way of eventually butting its nose in and ruining the fantasy.”

“Perhaps, “he replied as he handed me back the now open suit. “ But for the next two hours I think I can guarantee that we won’t be interrupted.”

“John, I really don’t have the time…”

“You have two hours,” He replied handing be a bottle of Eros, “Why not at least satiate your need to wear latex gear before you shackle yourself into a vanilla life for the next fifty or so years? I promise we will not get into any in depth ‘Play’, I just wish to help you experience a taste.”

A smile slowly crept across my face, as I could feel my cheeks start to burn. I really wanted to try the suit on, and everything else in this room I could get my hands on. Finally, I said fuck it. John was right, I deserved to fulfill my fetish at least once in life, and Dave would never be the wiser, so why shouldn’t I?

I set the suit and lube down on a bench that sat in the middle of the closet, as I stripped off every piece of my clothing. My dick was thrilled to be out of the confines of its denim prison, and was currently standing fully engorged in anticipation. I opened up the top of the bottle of Eros, and liberally spread the cold wet substance all over the front of my body. As I was doing this, John walked up from behind me, poured some of the lube into his gloved hands, and began to spread it across my back. The feel of his latex gloves across my bare skin sent waves of pure electricity down my spine, as a string of pre-cum headed towards the floor. Johns hand slipped slowly down to my penis, as he spend a few minutes making sure that the lube was thoroughly massaged into the skin at the head of my dick.

He brought me to the edge or orgasm, and them stopped leaving me standing there breathing hard, wanting him to finish what he started. My hands moved down to my penis and I began to pleasure myself. John immediately pulled my hands back, and said, “Not yet boy, the best part is yet to come.” He reached down to the bench, picked the suit back up, and handed it to me

I sat down to give myself better advantage to try to figure out how to squeeze myself into this thing. I got a quick shock from the ice-cold bench against my bare lubed flesh. Opening up the back of the suit, I slipped my legs into the enclosed feet. The slipperiness of the lube caused the suit to slide up my legs with relative ease, as my feet popped into the attached booties on the end. Felling the loving grip of the latex against my body, I could no longer control the shakes that had threatened to take over my senses. Once I had slid the suit up to by hips, I fumbled for a bit to get my engorged member into the attached sleeve on the front of the suit. John chuckled a bit as he grabbed my cock and balls, perhaps a little less gently than he could have, slid them expertly into the attacked sheath, and then produced a small rubber ring that he slid over the whole mess ensuring that my dick was now trapped in a rubber prison, and not going anywhere.

Slipping around behind me, he told me to put my arms down the sleeve holes, as he pulled the rest of the suit up my chest. My hands slid slowly down the rubber tubes, and popped snugly into the attached gloves at the end. I could feel something solid lying against my ass on the interior of the suit. I did not have to ask what that item could potentially be for; I looked up at him with concern. “I cannot take dildo’s, John, I have never derived any pleasure from anal, only pain.”

“Not to worry boy, it can lay where it is for the moment.” He replied as he pulled the suit up over my shoulders and started the zipper slowly up the center of my back. As the zip reached my shoulders, he reached around and grabbed the attached hood. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“”Yes.” Was all I could manage to reply. My nervous system was in overload, and my dick was straining to prove that it could fill the entirety of the large sheath that held it.

John poured a liberal about of the lube into his hands and began to spread it through my hair, and across my face. His gloved hand worked its way slowly around my lips and then forced its way into my mouth. I was once again on the edge of orgasm as I greedily sucked every drop of lube from his rubber-covered fingers. “Good boy.” He said as he slapped me on the ass, and then proceeded to pull the hood up over my head. It took him a moment to situate the eye, nose, and mouth holes properly before pulling the zipper the rest of the way up the back of my head. He pressed gently against my ears, forcing two little nubs attached to the hood, deeply into my ear canals.

“Can you hear me boy?” he asked, he voice sounded as if it were inside my head.

“Yes.” I replied.

“Good, your earplugs are attached to the microphone in my mask. In that suit, the only thing you will hear is my voice.” He said as he stroked the side of my head with his gloved hand.

I could not believe it, I was sealed in, my hands felt their way across my slick body, and then over to John’s. I was no longer myself. I knew this for sure when I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror that sat in one corner of the room, and saw the man I always wished to be staring back at me. I no longer had any interest in controlling myself. It was as if being sealed in this rubber suit had released a part of me that I had locked away for so long. Without saying a word, I immediately dropped to my knees and began to polish John’s boots. My tongue began at his toes as I worked to shine every inch. I did not stop until I was finished with both boots, only pausing for a bit to work on a particularly difficult spot of mud by the heel.

Once I was satisfied that I couldn’t have done any better, I looked upwards towards John’s face only to have my vision obscured by his hard on raging within its sheath. He reached down gently and stroked my latex clad head. I exhaled in exuberating as I closed my eyes and rubbed my head back against his hand, much like a cat would. I loved the attention, and I wished him to know this.

I pushed myself back up onto my knees, and took his encased penis into my mouth. Teasing the head with my tongue a bit, I found that there was a hole in the end, right over his piss slit, and the mixed taste of latex, sweat and man juice residue sent my mind reeling.

John put both hands against my head and pushed me back. “You start that boy, and you will defiantly not make it to the airport on time, I promise you that.”

“Sorry, “ I replied as I stood back up, “I kind of got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

“No need to apologize, “ I heard him chuckle from beneath the mask, “Enthusiasm is appreciated here.” I smiled sheepishly back at him as I placed my gloved hand in my face and breathed in the aromas once more. “In fact I have something very special here that I think you would appreciate.” He said as he headed over to the corner of the closet and opened an old looking wooden crate.

I followed him over to the box, and looked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large mass of shiny white latex that was bound with straps so it ended up looking like a kinky birthday gift. “What is that?” I asked with anticipation.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” He replied as he handed the heavy bundle to me. Not really sure what to so with the object, I sat back down on the bench, carefully as not to impale myself on the phallus that was threatening to invade my rectum, and began to undo the straps. The suit that unfurled before me was like nothing that I could have ever imagined. To say that the rubber was thick would have been an understatement, as I suddenly realized the need for the strapping to store it. The rubber was so heavy that it was determined to extend to full shape by itself. Like the suit I wore now, it also had attached booties, but that is where the similarities ended. As this suit has attached fingerless mitts, and a gasmask where the face should be; even without someone in it, it looked like an alien creature. This of course would have been enough, but what really stopped me in my tracks was the work ‘Slave’ imprinted in black across the chest of the suit.

I was speechless, and John must have noticed this. “I have noticed that you are very turned on by scents, as am I. This suit has held many a captive, and it has never once been deodorized after it was used. In fact, the inside should still be nice and slimy from the last boy it contained.”

“Excuse me? I said with a start

“Go ahead,” he replied, “Try it on.”

I let the suit drop to the floor and slid down the bench away from it, “Uh, I really don’t think so, John, That’s really not my cup of tea.”

“That wasn’t a request boy.” The friendliness had all but faded out of his voice as he removed a small black box with red buttons on its face, from a shelf next to him.

“Jon, look I…” That was about all that I got out before a heavy wave of pain shot through my balls. I screamed out and dropped to my knees with both hands over my crotch.
Looking slowly back up at John I noticed that his finger was poised over one of the red buttons on the box. “I guess I forgot to tell you that there are electrical pads inside the ball sack of that suit. You just experienced the system on its low setting, do I need to ask you again?”

“No please,” I pleaded as I got back to me feet, “John, really....” This time the shock was much worse, as I collapsed back on the floor curled into the fetal position. It took me some time to recover from this most recent jolt. Tears were running out of the eyeholes on the mask and streaking down my rubber skin. “Ok, please no more “ I said quietly as I slowly pushed myself back onto the bench, and reached for the suit. I was not sure what I had gotten myself into, but I knew that it was not good. I could not bring myself to look him in the face. I felt stupid for placing myself in this situation in the first place, and I cursed my cock as it continued to pulsate painfully in enjoyment of this torment.

I carefully undid the zip on the suit, sliding it from the top of the head all the way, down to where it stopped in-between the legs. Opening the suit up, I was immediately assaulted by the strong odors emanating from its depths. It was a sweat mix of sweat, piss, cum, and fear, and I was about to become one with all the boys who had been confined within its recesses in the past. John was telling the truth when he said that it would still be slimy. I did not need t use any of the lube to get this one on. My feet slid easily into the inky blackness of the legs of the suit. Once my feet found the pockets made for them at the end of the legs, John grabbed the mass out of my hands. “Stand up.” He commanded, and as I wobbled to my feet, he wrenched upwards violently almost lifting me off the floor.

The suit slid up over my hips, and with a bit of trepidation, because I did not wish to be zapped again, I placed my hands into the arm openings. John once again pulled hard on the thick suit as my hands popped into the enclosed sleeve ends. My fingers were enclosed within their own sheaths inside the mitt ends of the suit, rendering my hands useless. “Open your mouth,” he commanded as he lifted the attached gas mask hood towards my face. As the hood slid over my head, I could feel an internal gag press against my lips. A minor zap coursed through my nuts making me gasp slightly, which was just enough for him to shove the gag home. The gag filled my mouth, I could taste the sweat that had covered it in the past.

With a quick motion, he had the zipper done up, and a small click let me know that not only was I now sealed in, but locked too. I was completely at his mercy. “One more adjustment” I could hear him say as he grabbed the solid plug at my ass, through both layer of rubber gear, and jammed it home. I screamed out in pain, only to be effectively muted by the gag filling my mouth.

John walked around me admiring his handy work. “See boy, I told you that you would like my gear,” He said as he patted me on the head. “I just can’t help thinking that something is missing though.” John walked back over to the wooden box, and removed another mass of heavy white rubber. As he unfurled it before me, it revealed itself as a straightjacket just dripping with straps. The word ‘Slave’ was also printed on the front of this, in large black lettering. I grunted in surprise into the gag, and backed away in fear only to find the bench behind me. Loosing my balance, I landed on my butt on the bench driving the uncomfortable plug even deeper into my hole, and John was on top of me before I could react..

“Oh, no, ” He said as he opened the jacket before me. “ We cannot have you leaving before you are fully dressed, now can we? Put your arms out or face the consequences.”

I did not know what to do, I lifted my arms up and watched in fear as he slid the straightjacket onto my body and began to buckle it up the back. He pulled every strap as tight as he could. The jacket acted like a kind of a corset, slowly crushing my torso more and more with every tug. Once he was finished, he walked back around me to view his handy-work. John slowly ran his hands across my chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in the rubber gear. His every touch sent mixed emotions of fear and arousal coursing through my mind. Perhaps he would have stopped too, if my fucking cock had not betrayed me by drooling for more out of the hole at the end of the sheath that contained it.

As soon as he was satisfied that the rubber was in place, he moved back behind me and grabbed the strap ends of the arms of the straightjacket. I am not sure what came over me at that moment, but I was determined that I would not end up completely at this person’s mercy, and so I fought. I pulled back hard with my elbows, and caught him square in the solar plexus. This desperate motion caught him off guard, and quickly and efficiently dropped him to the floor affording me the opportunity to try to get away. I carefully made my way out of the walk-in closet area, being very careful as the lube in between the first and second suit made each step a potential disaster.

Making my way slowly across the room, I finally reached the door. I realized only then, to my horror, that John had dead bolted it behind us as we entered the room. The reality of the situation finally sunk in. I was in deep shit, and he held all the cards. Slowly turning around, to face my fate, I saw John leaning against the doorjamb of the closet silently clapping. “And what shall you be doing for you next trick, Mr. Houdini?” He asked as he lifted his right hand and showed me the electrical remote.

I dropped to me knees, and waived my hands in the air pleading furiously, into the gag, for him not to use it on me. John just laughed as he slowly walked towards me sending short jolts to my nuts to emphasize what he had to say. “Like a deer caught in headlights.” “You are not in control anymore.” “And if there is one thing that your tortured mind remembers boy…” , as he got nearer, the tone in his voice turned darker, “…NEVER…” “…FUCK…” “…WITH…” “…ME!” . He held the button in for about a minute, as he stood over me and watched me writhe in agony on the floor pawing at my nuts with my imprisoned hands in a futile attempt to make it stop.

Eventually he let go of the button, leaving me panting on the floor drenched in sweat, and ready to do just about anything he asked so as to not experience that again. John walked over to a red and black rolling tool cart that sat to the right of the door. Opening one of its many drawers, he removed a long black hose. Before I knew it, he was kneeling by my side and screwing the end of the hose into the side of the gas mask. “We are going to try a different motivator boy, as I don’t particularly care for damaged goods.” He held the end of the hose up to the lenses on my mask, and showed me that the hose had a metal valve at the end. He reached up and twisted the end of the valve with his thumb and forefinger, and it did not take me long to figure out what its function was. For as I tried to draw my next breath, the mask sucked tightly against my face driving the gag down my throat, and making me choke.

I shook my head furiously back and forth, and tried to remove the hose by clamping the mitts together against it and pulling feverishly. It was to no avail, the material was strong, and the connection to my mask even stronger. It was not going anywhere. John grabbed me by the throat and slid me back against the metal door. He leaned in towards me until his face was only inches away from the mask. “Listen to me.” He commanded, but I was too deep in a blind panic to listen. He slammed my head hard into the door behind me, which dazed me a bit, but brought me out of my panic. “Listen to me boy, and listen to me well. This is going to happen one way or the other, whether you like it or not. How we proceed from here is completely up to you. If you choose to calm down and cooperate, then I will allow you a bit of air, if not then I will wait till you are unconscious before I proceed. The choice is yours.”

My eyes must have been as large as saucers, as I could not believe the situation that I found myself in. The edges of my vision were starting to grey letting me know that this was not something that I had long to contemplate. I decided since I had no idea what this mad planned to do with me, that I would rather be conscious. “Air!” I grunted weakly, as a tear of defeat ran down my face.

John lifted the valve back in front of my face and slowly opened it. My lungs filled with the precious air, and I greedily sucked down every ounce I could get. He quickly closed the valve again and raised a finger in front of my face. “Slow down boy, its time for you to learn some basic control. Now, I am going to let you have some more air, but this time I want you to take three deep breaths, and then hold it. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head, and he let me have more air. Following his directions, I inhaled deeply three times and then held my breath. John quickly closed the valve again. “Now,” he said as he stood back up. “You are going to survive on only what is in your lungs until we get those arms secured.” He stated frankly, as he motioned for me to stand up. “So I suggest that you hurry.” Pushing myself to my feet as quickly as I could, I turned my back on him and placed my arms across my chest. “Good boy.” I could hear him say as he secured my arms.

He checked the straps to make sure they were secure, and then walked away from me without reopening my airway. I grunted loudly into the gag, but he just ignored me as he took his keys from his pocket and proceeded to open a metal door that sat to the right of the gear closet. As the door swung open, I could see that every part of the room: the walls, floor, ceiling, and the inside of the door were all covered in some sort of black padding.

He motioned for me to join him. I padded my way as quickly, and safely, across the floor as I could. As I reached his side, he reopened the air valve. I gulped down glorious amounts of the precious oxygen, as I took in the room that lay before me. The best description for it would be a padded cell. It wan an approximately ten-foot by twelve-foot room that was heavily padded. The slab on the inside of the door alone had to have been at least two feet thick. As I took in the room all I could think was that this place would not only effectively keep someone from hurting themselves, but the insulation most likely left it pretty sound proof as well. As mesmerized as I was by the room, what truly drew my attention was the bed that sat up against the far wall. It was covered in leather straps, obviously designed to hold someone and not let them go.

“So here is what is going to happen boy,” John’s voice echoed through the plugs in my ears. “In a moment I am going to turn off your air. You are going to go lay on that bed. You are to lay very still, no matter what happens.” I struggled futility a bit against the grip of the straightjacket, to no avail. John reached up and grabbed me by the chin “Don’t test me boy, the electricity has been turned up to its highest setting. You do not want to experience that while not being able to breathe. Listen to the voice of experience, boy, no one has ever screamed more than once.”

Now I will tell you what, I grew up in the inner city. I had been held up at knifepoint, had my house broken into, I had followed President Shrub’s Weapons of mass distraction into Iraq, and I have had insurgents shooting at me. However, this shit was starting to freak me out. John had stripped control from me physically, and now he is doing it mentally. I had no choices, only which way was going to harm me less. I had a lot of respect for this man, not admiration mind you, but respect. None of this, however, changed the fact that I would rip his throat out the first chance I got.

“You have the look of blood in your eyes, boy.” He chuckled softly, “No worries though, that can easily be trained out long before you ever get the chance to act on those thoughts.” With that, my air once again ceased. Knowing what I had to do, I quickly made my way across the small room. This was no little feat, let me tell you, as the combination of the lube swirling around my booted feet, and the fact that I sank a good six inches into the rubber-coated padding on the floor every time I took a step, I could hardly retain my balance on the way there.

Reaching the bed, I laid down as quickly as I could, and centered myself hoping that my compliance would get the air turned back on John followed slowly behind me and positioned my legs a bit before locking restraints on them. I noticed as he was applying the cuffs around my calved and thighs, that I had seen these before. It was in a bondage catalog that I had had in my collection for a few years. They were made by a company called Humane Restraints who made secure restraints for mental institutions. The difference was that these were specially made for the fetish community, for rather than being brown and tan, which are the standard hospital colors; these restraints were black and white. The cuffs locked on with a single push of a button, and could not be removed without the use of a special key. On the sides of the cuffs, there is a metal tab, usually used to run a strap through to secure it. John had found a different use, as the metal tab was anchored deeply within the rubber-coated padding on the bed rendering the cuff stationary and the limb trapped inside, immobile.

As he locked the final restraint around my leg, he sat down on my pelvis, and watched me squirm a bit for air. My rubber clad dick just barely brushed his ass, and the reverberation of the rubber on rubber contact sent my head reeling. Slowly he reached down between his legs, and undid the zipper at his crotch, just slightly, before stuffing the end of my breathing tube in there. The next breath I took was one of pure rubberman, the mix of rubber, sweat, piss, and man musk was almost more than I could handle. If that was not enough, John then reached off the side of the bed, to a box I had not seen before, and pulled out a cotton ball. He stuffed this too into the pouch at his crotch and re fastened the zipper snug against my breathing tube. A wave of poppers slammed my senses from all directions. I began to pump my hips, which caused my cock to bump repeatedly off the latex barrier that guarded his awaiting hole.

A shock arced through my balls causing me to convulse for a moment. “Now that’s a bit presumptuous of you boy. He said, as he smacked me on the chest, “Time to take care of that.” With that, John leaned upwards towards the top of the bed, and pulled two long straps back down my chest towards my crotch. “You see boy, this is a Simpson racing harness. It is made to withstand high speed crashes.” As he spoke, he fed the two upper belts under my straightjacketed arms, and connected them with a clasp to two straps that fell right across the pelvic bone. “Now you will like this part,” He continued as he climbed off me, making sure my air hose did not slip from his crotch, and fed two straps up from in-between my legs. “You see, these are called submarine straps, they are designed to keep you from slipping out from under the restraint, and the thing I like about them is that they hold you dick and balls in place nicely.”

I looked down, and realized that he wasn’t kidding, even if I wasn’t rock hard at the moment, the two straps were fed uncomfortably close on each side, forming a v shape that kept the jewels fully accessible at all times.

“Now I will give you your choice, “ John said as he stood over me. “ If you wish to cooperate, I will place your arms in a much more comfortable position. If not, then they can just stay strapped to your chest, which should start getting pretty sore in the shoulder area pretty soon. So what do you think? Are you going to be a good boy?”

I nodded lazily through the haze floating through me. My cock was pulsating in beat with the poppers in my brain, I was not going to argue with anything, as long as the trips final destination was one of sweet release. John pushed me up against the straps covering my chest, as he reached behind me and undid the arms of the jacket. He laid me back down and grabbed my right wrist. Reaching into the box on the floor, he pulled out a thickly padded posey fist mitt, and slid it onto the end of my arm and locked it in place. Doing the same with my left arm, John then positioned both mitts with the metal tab side down, and pushed the tabs firmly, into two slits in the mattress on either side of me, until he heard an audible click.

“Test them.” He said, as I pulled back as hard as I could, in my current state, only to find them firmly in place. He then fiddled with something underneath the bed, and the racing harness pulled so tight that I sank deeply into the top of the padding on the bed. He then finished locking restraints around my lower arms and biceps. I was rendered immobile.

Wrenching the air hose out of his crotch, he tossed it on me and left the room without a word. As the poppers slowly wore off, I began to become more and more aware of the dire circumstances of the situation that I was in. Relax, I told myself, John would have known that this kind of thing turns me on just by reading the stories that I have posted with my online profile. He is just trying to fulfill my fantasy, and we are most likely still well within the time I had allotted, so just relax and enjoy. You know what, I did too. At least for a little bit until John reappeared in the doorway with a metal bucket and my backpack in hand.

“Let’s see what we got here shall we?” John said as he dug through my bag. “As a boy I could understand you needing identification, and these plane tickets. However, your sleepwear clearly states ‘Slave’ across the front so no one can mistake it. Call me old fashioned, but I don’t believe a slave is entitled to an identity, and I don’t believe your behavior today warrants the privilege of travel.”

I pulled hard against the restraints and screamed into my gag as he tossed my wallet and plane tickets into the metal bucket. Yet John pretended not to hear me as he continued emptying out the contents of my backpack.

“And what do we have here, “ He asked as he pulled my Zippo and spare bottle of ronsinal. “ Oh dear, I am afraid that I will have to put my foot down on this one too, as slaves definitely shouldn’t smoke.” With that, he stuffed the rest of the contents of my backpack into the bucket, poured the bottle of ronsinal over it, and lit it all up with the Zippo before tossing that in too.

The crackling flames of my life danced in the reflection of John’s mask making him look inherently evil. He stood there for a minute or two allowing the fire to consume as much as possible before unzipping his crotch and urinating on it until it was out. Picking up the bucket, he sloshed its contents around a bit before tossing the urine and ash mixture over me. “That’s what I think of your past slave, and in a few months you will feel the same. This bedroom has been empty for so long, but I am allowing you the honor to serve me, now and forever.” I screamed a string of endless profanities into the gag, only to be answered with a bolt of electricity through my nuts. “Ah, yes. I understand that you may not agree with me now, but I think if we work real hard on this concept that you will start to see things my way in about six months or so.”

With that, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, throwing me into absolute darkness. I could hear two deadbolts being fastened on the door. I was in some crazy rubberman’s basement, locked behind two heavy metal doors, in a city that was foreign to me, no one knew where I was, and hardly anyone would care.

One-half of me could not figure out what the fuck I had gotten myself into, and the other half could not wait to find out.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Story: Carpe Noctem Part 2

Carpe Noctem (Seize the night) Part 2……


I was left here alone, barely able to move, hooded, in pitch black, with only my thoughts, my own mind, to keep me company; I began to reassess all that I had been through. In less than a day my situation had been transformed from one form of captivity to another.


John had very calculatedly, one-by-one, taken away all of my defenses that I had built up against my own desires. Even now as I fought against my bonds I could feel every sob, every terrified whimper drop me deeper into the submission I have craved for so long.


I strained against the straps that held me tightly to the deep padding in the darkened corner of the cell. My only bearings upon anything but the darkness was a single air vent above the doorway that sent a stream of light across the room splashing against the floor only feet away from the shadowy corner that held me captive.


I had a very limited field of vision as the racing harness that held my shoulders down rendered me unable to lift my head too far off the bed, and the walls of the room being black made judging distances in the dark next to impossible. I did my best to get a survey of the room, to figure out what else resided in here besides me.


In the distance, beyond the foot of my bed, beyond even the beam of light, hung something I hadn’t noticed before. It appeared to be a harness of some sort like climbers wear, yet much more fortified, and something hung above it… I was not able to make it out through the darkness beyond the light, but it appeared to be a helmet of some sort, suspended in the air...


I spent a few more minutes straining my eyes, and tilting my head in all angles in an attempt to figure out what this contraption was. Finally with a high pitched growl I slammed my head back into the padding in frustration I drifted off in to the light, while chewing nervously on the gag in anticipation of John’s return.


Fear, Trepidation, and nicotine withdraw ripped my mind apart. That beam of light gave my something to focus on, something real and tangible against the blackness of my surroundings that threatened to overtake me at any moment. I can’t explain why, but through every shiver, and every frustrated grunt against the gag in my mouth, I figured as long as I focused upon that beam of light that I could hold it together.


The odor of the charred remains of my life soaked in urine still wafted through the port on my mask with every inhalation. I realized, as I looked at the impermeable PVC type material which covered the walls and the bed in this room that I would be laying in the puddle for as long as he wished me to.


Every time the smell would streak across my tortured mind I would be reminded of him pissing on my life, taking it all away, leaving me in fear all alone in this dark world, with no hope, no salvation, and no one to hear me scream. My mind travelled down “what-if” scenarios… With this gag in my mouth, and no way for me to remove it, what if I got nauseous? With me locked in the room and no one knowing where I was, what if something happened to John?


What if John wasn’t playing? What if he intended to keep me? What if my old life actually was over?


Every time I began down these thought paths I would grunt in to my gag and shake my head violently, in an attempt to clear my head, making sure I reminded myself that the only way of survival was not to give in to panic. I was the only one I could count on now; He could only take what I would give him. I could not give him that upper hand… I would not.


I needed to take this as it came, he would be counting on me to let go eventually. Yet my survival counted on me holding on to what I had. An outside observer to my situation would venture to ask what it was I hoped to hold on to… Locked down in an unknown location, by an unknown assailant, with unknown motivations.


I decided then, as I fought the realizations of my situation that I would grasp on to the one thing he could not take. That one shred… Hope, strength, individuality… No matter what he did to me, what hell he brought upon me, as long as I held on to a tiny shred he would never win… He could never possess me…


God I hoped I was right.


* * * * * * * * * *


I had no idea how long I had been sealed within my rubber tomb, be it hours or days, as John had only entered the cell once since he captured me within his web. He returned shortly after my initial incarceration, hauling in hardware and tools, for the purpose of, as he ominously called it: “Wiring me for sound”.


As he made his way slowly across the padded floor, with a mass of wires slung over his rubberized shoulder, discussing topics of behavioral modification, I suddenly understood what it was he meant to do.


“In order to scrawl new material upon the blackboard of your soul we must first erase what others have written.” He said as he dumped his load on my chest and headed out once again leaving me on edge and shaking violently. I strained my head as far as I could to see if I could figure out his plans for me…


All-in-all, in hindsight, I wish I hadn’t.


I had not previously paid that close of attention to all of the features of this suit as I was being forced in to it, for if I had I would have noticed the button connections littering the outside just awaiting their mating with the electrical wires that currently laid upon my torso.


He returned with other boxes and container holding lord knows what manner of objects. I had finally had enough, this was no fun anymore and he had no business keeping me here against my will. I yelled, I screamed, I demanded. Profanities laced the diatribe that issued from my mouth, it was powerful, concise and to the point.


Yet my spirits only dropped further when I realized upon hearing myself that the large gag relegated my intelligent arguments in to nothing but guttural gibberish. I yelled in frustration at the object in my mouth, and then focused all of my attention towards bypassing its hold.


First I tried biting down on it with my front teeth and opening the sides of my mouth wider so I could speak around it; the soft gel like center of the gag only spread to compensate for the new open space I had formed. I then attempted to slide it to one side of my mouth only to realize since it was anchored in to the mask, and my face was sealed into the nose cup of the mask, that it wasn’t budging.


Issuing a muffled cry of frustration against the gag I began shaking my head violently from side to side in a feudal last ditch attempt to dislodge it. This only caused me to smack the edge of the mask against the bed, and driving the intruder deeper, back into my gag reflex.


I stopped thrashing instantly, closed my eyes, and breathed deep. Concentrating on calming down the potentially disastrous spasm that had began in the back of my throat. Although I did gag a few times, after a few deep breaths I regained control, and sank back in to the padding with a relieved sigh.


Once I had fully regained my composure I finally reopened my eyes only to be startled by John’s masked face sitting scant inches away from mine, his head cocked slightly to the side watching me recover from my ordeal.


He cupped my chin within his gloved hand. As I tried shaking him off, his grasp tightened. “What did we learn?” he asked coldly.


I just stared at him. Left immobile and speechless, with no other way to communicate all the things I wanted to say to him, I just funneled everything to my eyes, hoping they would convey the anger and frustration that currently burned within me.


John just chuckled as he undid the zipper at my crotch. He reached in and liberated my rubber-covered member which promptly became a traitor to my cause as it greeted his hand halfway. A horny groan escaped from behind my gag as my head fell against the bed in expectant ecstasy.


Stroking my cock a bit he began to speak again “I have to say that you have admirable traits: strength, defiance, determination, ambition, individuality…”; He trailed off as he suddenly sank his fingernails in to the head of my dick causing me to scream in to the gag and causing my erection to go running for the hills. “… I look forward to taking each and every one of them from you like plucking the wings from a fly; one-by-one, until you are permanently grounded.”



He slipped a metal cage over my flaccid dick and cinched a band down around the base of my cock, behind my balls. “This should keep you company, and help you in some hard decisions you are bound to have. Now I would attempt to control yourself if I were you, as if any of those spikes on the interior of that cage pierce the rubber on the sheath of that undersuit you have on… I will take it out of your ass.”


I heard the faint click of a lock and then John slid my imprisoned member back in to the suit, zipped it up, and locked that zipper as well. A few hard pats right on my crotch after it was locked caused my dick to vibrate against the spiky nubs surrounding my tender flesh. I began concentrating on non sexual thoughts, as I did not wish to meet those spikes the hard way any time soon.


Reaching behind him he grabbed a few objects and laid them to rest upon my chest: A filter, a glass jar containing cotton balls, and a small brown glass bottle. Now even though I was unaware of what the substance in the bottle was, it did not take a rocket scientist to figure out how those three objects pieced together to include a bound figure wearing a gasmask.


My brain began to reel, unable to communicate it him, I could not tell him every bit of trepidation and fear that was raised by this concept…



‘Besides my cigarettes, which you have already removed from me I have never done drugs in my life, you have me completely at your mercy and under your control. Please leave me the one thing I have left… Not my mind John, don’t play with my fucking mind!’

…But I couldn’t, I was unable to communicate anything, and what stayed trapped in my mind no matter how concise of an argument it was, did me no good what so ever. Grunts and dirty looks were not going to stop him or even slow him from anything he had in mind. So I did the next logical thing that came to me.


I began screaming “no” into my gag; the edges of my voice were beginning to crack and fray from the frustrated helplessness that was overtaking me. I shook my head as well, figuring if the port on my mask didn’t stay still, screwing that filter in would be next to impossible.


John just calmly gathered the three objects from my chest, slowly walked up to the head of the bed and sat them down in the upper corner one by one patiently and meticulously as if preparing for an operation, before wrapping his hands around my throat.


My trepidation levels shot through the roof, at first I thought he was finally trying to kill me until I realized I was still able to breathe. He was not applying pressure to the front of my neck, but instead to the sizes. I was unsure of the purpose of this until I began to see stars and the edges of my vision became fuzzy. I would have attempted to fight back if it wasn’t for the wave of sights and sounds that washed over me taking me on a short but powerful journey within their embrace.


When I came back to reality, I realized that I was laying on the right side of my face, and my head was being pushed down in to the padding by the weight of John’s body kneeling on my cheekbone. He was in the process of unscrewing the air-hose on my mask, I tried to shake him once, but my head was pinned, and not going anywhere. The only thing I could do was watch events unfold through the glass portals in front of my eyes.


I watched his actions attentively, my eyes following his hand motions like a dog being teased with a treat. The three objects were laid out only scant inches from the lenses on my mask. Through the left eyehole I could see John in his Rubberized glory coiling the hose back up and laying it down on my chest. He then pulled out a pile of webbing straps and began to cinch my head down in its current position.


Once he was done he removed his knee, yet the straps held me in this position, the open port on my mask sticking straight up in the air ready for anything to be inserted like a bound twink at a roofie party.


“Life is all lessons in control boy, one way or another, one form or another.” He said as he opened the jar containing the cotton balls and removing one; “Everyday you accept this and live this. You are submissive to your boss, who in turn is submissive to his.” Opening the little brown glass bottle he placed the cotton ball over the opening and tipped it up on end. “This is the natural way of things: in life, in nature, there is always someone higher on the food chain than you.”


John slipped the cotton ball onto the filter and leaned down next to my face. “Well you have now entered a new food chain, and its time you learned your place. I have all the time in the world, and you don’t look to be going anywhere anytime soon. So you better start opening your mind to what is being brought to you, or your training shall be a long and arduous process; for we will repeat any lessons that don’t take over and over until your mind is willing to accept them.”


With that he screwed the filter on to my mask. My air became tinted with a sweet smell as my brain drifted off in to a subdued place. I felt the horniness of this situation that I currently found myself in finally boil past the trepidation and fear as it began to overtake every sense in by body. I began chewing on the gag and feeling it out with my tongue so my brain could begin to process the sexual connotation of the object in my mouth. The warmth travelled down my body until it reached my crotch, which began to pulsate, and grow with every breath of this incredible sweet haze…


That’s when I remembered the spiked cage…

Afterthoughts: Carpe Noctem 2

My Fellow Inmates,


As mentioned in my previous blog, Carpe Noctem 2 grew to amazingly painful lengths. There was no way that I was possibly going to finish it by today and I did not wish to rush it out.


So… It has been split. What was once the second half of part 2 is now part 3. This means that part 3 is now ¾ of the way done. Depending on the feedback I get for part 2 I shall continue if people wish to read more…


And although I hate to sound like a PBS Beg-a-thon… DONATE! Only guyzingear gets this story so those of you who have been asking me to continue writing it better make sure guyzingear is a long lived place.


Bottom line, as long as there is a guyzingear there will be new installments to Carpe Noctem.


So enjoy. It’s been a long time coming… and understand this boy’s ordeals are far from over.



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

High Colonic: Shaken not stirred

My Fellow Inmates,


Today as I was getting up and attempting to wake up my roommate was getting ready to head out of the house. Things got feisty, words got said and next thing I know I got sprayed down with Cologne. I bitched about it, and received the reply: Now you got something to blog about…. Well he didn’t think I would… so here we go…


Let me start by saying one thing, I don’t fault people for using cologne. It’s frankly not for me, and I will never understand why someone would want to cover over the wonderful individual man scent that you were given to work with…


But frankly as far as colognes and perfumes go, I would rather smell like Drew Carey than Mariah Carey. (Please note: This was used to make a point only, I honestly don’t wish to smell like Drew Carey. If for some reason you actually wish to smell like Drew Carey, then I must take my hat off to you because you are a lot kinkier than I) J


Men need to smell like men: Sweaty, stinky, rubbery, leathery, and mmm mmm good!


Someone call my lawyer, I swear I never touched the Campbell’s kids! Besides I understand they like it in the can…. Ok, Asylum is a sick, sick pup… Bring on the Haloperidol; the rest of you will be much safer if I am heavily medicated.


So bottom line on the Deodorant/cologne thing…. Play with me I want you to smell like play, like sweat, like fear… don’t cover it up. I don’t fault anyone for wearing it, but you slime my gear with it we will have an issue.


I like what I like, what can I say…


So, on to other subjects… Carpe Noctem 2. For all intents and purposes it is on track, but we hit a snag… It started taking on a life of its own. What was one dimensional suddenly became so much more upon rewrites.


Right now I am at 11 pages and counting. It makes part 1 look short.


So we have a plan A and a plan B. In a perfect world I will have the chance to finish it all and get it posted by the deadline that I set for myself Saturday afternoon. I am honestly not sure that is wholeheartedly possible to tell you the truth.


Plan B was to be to just say “Hey, I need another week…. Do you want it now, or want it right?” Then one of my friends, Latex05, gave me a better idea. Since we are at 11 pages now, if I cant finish in time to post the story as promised, then I shall post it in two parts. I think 5 & ½ pages completed now is better than 11+ pages rushed…


As for what the final product is on Saturday late afternoon, well we will just have to wait and see what happens…


And yes, before you say it, Asylum is in love with the Ellipsis (…) and I overuse it to a fault, and improperly to boot, but it gets my point across so…


With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

5 Days Till Carpe Noctem Part 2

My Fellow Inmates,


Well, for those of you who have waited years now we are finally here. Carpe Noctem Part 2 will be posted Saturday afternoon. I am actually forcing myself into a deadline because this makes me have no choice but to actually finish it, polish it, and post it.


The largest problem I face is that the story has seemed to take a life of its own, I know in a lot of ways it is heavily emotionally charged and has gained some popularity over the years. Quite a few people from around the world have asked me to continue it, and with that I finally am.


But let’s be honest here…


Anyone that has been waiting for the follow-up to this tale has in their own mind an idea of what happens to the boy after the padded cell door closes in the first chapter. A knuckle shuffle or two has taken the story other places in a lot of people’s minds. Well the one thing I can say about it is if you are one of these people, let it all go. Forget what you have come up with over the years,


The truth behind Carpe Noctem is a lot darker than most people realize… there is a reason it is emotionally charged… I shall touch on this only just briefly.


For five years Rubberasylum was in a playless vanilla relationship with a hypochondriac boy he cared for deeply who treated him like shit. After so many years Asylum began to wish for the things that he was missing, and that need grew exponentially as the time went by.


Finally when I got the Idea to write a piece I just closed my eyes and typed. What came out was Carpe Noctem (A Second Story, “The devil and a rubber boy” was written, if anyone has a subscription to rubberzone and can get me a copy of my story I would be eternally grateful, it also has a lot of promise)


I made very few changes to the emotional dump that hit the page. This is why it is as highly charged as it was. It was a cry for help for the main character, and also one for the writer as well. A heart pouring out its desires can be a powerful thing.


Since that point, and shedding myself of that relationship I have done a lot of reorganization. My world has changed night and day from the thumb I lived under, and the thought or need to continue that piece has never seemed necessary until I realized the outcry for the next part.


Well the next part is finished. A bit rough, yet finished none the less. One must realize that this story was not written as fantasy, but want, and shant be continued as anything other than just that.


The boy was left in the cell strapped down, and that’s where we pick up. We continue with him as if it were reality. What is next… If he really found himself kidnapped and his desires forced upon him by a top he still doesn’t know the face of, well then what is next.


No one would accept blindly, willingly, unquestionably.


The boy must learn. Lessons and processes must be followed and accepted. This is a pathway. It will be written as if both the top and bottom were reacting to the situation at hand… through part 2, 3, 4, and on….


All guyzingear exclusives…


So with all this said. I have made myself a deadline. Saturday afternoon Part 2 will be posted within this blog.


For right now I sit here and type. A dirty Martini beside me… For I believe in life if you are to do anything it should be dirty…


Also I must say… I re-posted my version of “Freakin at the Freakers ball 2008” where Asylum rewrote and sang the version of Shel Silverstein’s masterpiece, into the video section of this site… and I have now pulled it, again… And to the mother fucker that posted the comment that it “Sucks Royally”… It’s good to know critics have no fucking balls, let’s hear you sing shithead…


Then again, perhaps it’s just the martooney speaking J



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy...

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

Thursday, March 12, 2009

2 Days Till The Night (Carpe Noctem 2)

My Fellow Inmates,


After reading my last few blogs I am starting to think that there may be a chance that I could be a bit opinionated. Possibly, perhaps...


Speaking of, there is an effort we need to make here; today Rubberrebel put a call out for some money for the site. I ask each and every once of you that reads my blog to donate to our community. Think about it, even if each of us here tossed in 5.00 cumulatively we would make a large dent.


It is expensive to do a start up site, and Russell is footing the bill for the rest of us. If we cont step up… well I don’t want to even think about it. Let’s just say Guyzingear is and has been one of the best sites on the net hands down.


Let’s help it to survive.


As for Carpe Noctem; Asylum has played hooky from work today to finish it. I made a promise, and I intend to stand by it for the rest of your pervs enjoyment.



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Friends don't let friends drink and blog

My Fellow Inmates,


Well Asylum learned a lesson last night. Who would have thought that drinking two double Martoonies and a glass or wine before sitting down to type out a blog would not be the greatest of ideas?


Yes, the more you know…


Well since Asylum is not ashamed of what he does, except of course for the formerly mentioned ill-fated foray in to the lyrical arts, I shant change my blog from yesterday. If Mr Daniels and I thought it was good last night then there is shall stay…


With that said, let me address one thing. I recorded Freakin at the freaker’s ball last year and attempted 2-3 times to post it. Each time people have told me it sucked and I pulled it only to dust it off again months later and repost hoping for a better reception. Let’s face it… It sucks.


At this point I have shelved the file in to obscurity. Although I truly can give a shit about what people think of me, I do still aim to produce a certain level of quality out of the things I put out… With that said, I give you this promise… I won’t ever sing again unless it’s a torture scene J


While I am on this subject… To the guy that I told to go fuck himself yesterday…. Honestly I did have a lot of alcohol and wasn’t really thinking things all the way through…


…Now that I have I wish to extend my hand…


…and offer you a broken beer bottle and a tube of icy hot to impale your pictureless judgmental prissy little ass on you fucking balless wonder!


When you attempt to extend yourself and try new things be it play of different sorts, different mediums to produce exhibitionistic scenes showcasing the things you are actually doing and not just dribbling down your leg vicariously off of others experiences, or grow a set to finally move out of your moms apartment where you don’t have to hide that cum stained pair of tennies under your bed any more in fear that you may actually have to explain to her that you COULD possibly be some sort of perverted wanker…


Perhaps then… and only then, might you be even close to having any business judging people who are actually ACTIVELY sharing with others things that come from their hearts and souls that means something to them.


To sling shit from behind the comfortable anonymity of your computer screen, never venturing out to grab even an ounce of what you crave… Well frankly, anything I can say is going to hurt a hell of a lot less than what you already know…


One thing must be realized. I love newbies. I am happy to accept them in to my home and taking them on experiences that they have never imagined. It actually gets me off to see this and to feast upon the shaky trust that it takes them to hand themselves to you, scared, fearful, unknowing…


It is a beautiful thing.


It is these malicious parasites that haunt the websites commenting judgmentally on those that actually do as if they were experts on subjects they don’t have the chutzpah to dabble in.


It’s these people for whom the best part of their personality ran down the crack of their mamma’s ass and ended up a stain upon the bedsheets.


Bottom line…Gear up or Shut up!





Look, I may be willing to admit that emotion and alcohol don’t mix, but none the less I still am a self proclaimed asshole, let’s not forget this point J


So let’s then move forward, shall we?


Carpe Noctem Part 2… 4 days and counting: It’s time to focus on what is important.



With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy…

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Psychological Torture Television

My Fellow Inmates,

I need to tell you about a TV show so foul, so vile, so off the ever loving charts, that it truly makes Asylum proud.

The show is called Solitary

http://www.hulu.com/watch/5272/solitary-the-experiment-begins?c=Reality-and-Game-Shows#s-p2-n1-so-i0

For anyone in to mental torture this show has it and in spades. Here is the concept:

Nine people enter the game. Each of them are placed is a separate cell in seclusion, they are sleep deprived, food deprived, and pushed to their limits.

The only access to the outside world that they have is a computerized voice called Val. Who has an answer to anything they say, and it’s usually a statement meant to twist them around and is often of mind fuck proportions.

The contestants must endure psychological torture for a chance to win $50,000.00. They can give up at any time but if they are the first in the group to give up the current torture then they are removed from the show.

The one that can hold up under the strain of the most psychological torture is the winner. They play against themselves since no one ever knows how the people they are competing against are doing, or if anyone has quit. You are sealed off, no idea how many days have passed, or whether its night or day,

Watching this, the first thought in my mind is this is one step above “The Running Man” in regards to what we will do to people for our own entertainment… Also it gives me many, many evil ideas J

If this is the direction of the degradation of our society I say step back and let it fall! The next step I want to see is bondage endurance shows…

I would tune in J

With that visiting time is over and the guards grow antsy...

Take care, and what ever you do don't scream too loud, others are trying to sleep

Rubberasylum
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