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
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