Saturday, January 31, 2009

St. Peter Don't call me cause I cant go... I sold my soul to the Rebel...

My Fellow Inmates,

I have been thinking, and I will tell you now, that is never a good thing. One question keeps popping up and that is "why"... Why read my blog and follow the insane threads that I tend to tread in my never ending quest for a concise thought?

Why follow me down he rabbit hole just to hope that by the time I finally end up taking a breath that my machinations served any other purpose than to just waste fifteen minutes of your life...

Could it be that I am trying to distract you while my hit squad enters your abode and sneaks up behind you with a syringe aimed for its mark; dripping in anticipation of sliding home in to the moist warmth of you subcutaneous tissue?

Perhaps its because I am an incurable case who is trying to take others down with him... A lost soul, who gave of himself to the Rebel many many years ago.

And with that I mean "Rubber Rebel".

Now before you picture me under our illustrious host who is kind enough to offer this space for us to all gather, not that I would imagine that he would argue mind you, I should mention that the Rubber Rebel I speak of is the magazine that was printed from 1994 - 1996.

I am truly sorry for anyone who does not know the volumes of which I speak, as if you were to try googling it, only very little information comes up. No other American magazine to date has embodied the rubber bondage community in the same way. Later on the same editors came out with Vulcan America magazine. Sadly it just wasn't the same.

I will be completely honest here. No other influence shaped my life and helped set me on the right path than finding Rubber Rebel when I was 16 years old.

This was back in the days when first avenue south in Seattle earned the seedy reputation that it held. There was a store called Fantasies Unlimited, that sat right across from the pike place market. The bottom floor of this shop was your standard everyday porn store, but what made this place special was the bondage shop that sat upstairs.

They had all sorts of high quality gear that my young mind could not even fathom. From electro gear to rubber... it was to be a haunt of mine for many years to come, yet it was the first time I ventured in there that will always stick in my mind.

You see a straight friend from high school tagged along with me one day when I was SUPPOSED to be going to religion school, he had told me that there was this store he wanted to show me, and as long as you minded your business, they didn't card you.

So we parked in a garage that from the smell of it also doubled as a restroom for transients, tucked cigarettes behind our ears to make us look older, and entered the shop. I was not prepared for the world that hit me. He wanted to show me the store upstairs where "Sicko's" could buy twisted stuff, but I was drawn to the magazine rack.

There sat a periodical whose cover featured an amazing picture of a faceless rubber diver. Not fully understanding why, as previously I had only had bondage and random gear fantasies, I picked up the magazine and with a trembling hand I flipped through page after page of full coverage rubber and bondage pictures.

I knew then that this was one of those "Sick" gay magazines, as it was all men featured, yet the following week, when my friend was no longer with me, I bought it anyway as I told myself that it was such an amazing magazine that I would just overlook the gay part... yick! Heh...

That day I also bought a tiny, and I do mean TINY plug... My body knew what I was after even though my brain was unable to admit defeat yet. As I got on the Ferry Boat, on my way back to the Island where my parent's home was, I slipped the small phallus down in my pants very carefully so the people beside me wouldn't see what I was doing. Sadly I didn't realize at that point that a virgin ass was not going to allow entry that easily to an unlubed rubber plug... so I used force... lol, and ouch...

So as I sat on the painful little thing trying to figure out what the draw was as my ass burned, I flipped through the Forbidden fruit of a magazine that I had picked up. As I read an amazing story about a guy taking a vacation to a friends home for play. He was covered in layers of dive gear, then thick bondage mitts were locked on, a helmet was added, he was secured to a bondage board, his air was turned off and he was forced to suck every last breath of air out of the suit while he got a crotch massage.

Sitting there on the ferry, out in the open, cars on all sides of me with families in them, I pulled my dick out and jerked off all over myself. I then raced home to continue the read of this amazing piece of literature, by now telling myself that obviously the gays knew how to make good porn, but of course I was still straight... *Cough*

As I opened the magazine again I hit a second story, about a guy who went cave diving with a group of divers and they came up in a underwater cave that had an air pocket and dry ground. There he was restrained and the intake to his mask was connected to the Dump Valves on their suits where a mixture of piss, cum, and sweat began to fill his mask. He was required to drink fast in order to keep the levels below his nose so he could still breathe.

While reading this story my poor unprepared mind gagged a few times at this thought... Yet my hand never slowed down on my swollen dick who loved the thought of this kind of treatment...

Beyond the amazing stories, pictures, and the fact that Aquala sold modified suits through the magazine as well... This is a piece of American rubberist history that sadly seems to be lost at this moment. I reached out to the original publisher for copies, yet he only has a few left and doesn't wish to see them go.

This is a magazine that needs to see the light of day in digital format. Yet there still is nothing like being able to hold that hard copy... The smell of the ink, the knowledge of the forbidden fruit hid under the bed, and what would happen if your parents found it...

We all have to find our path, some of us take longer than others... I had my path slap me across the face...

Thank you to the publishers of Rubber Rebel, we all can only go through those tough teenage years once... You will always hold a special place in my heart.

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


Thursday, January 29, 2009

I would Gladly sell my soul

And on that note.... Goodnight folks...

Now hold on a moment here, lets take a look at this concept. No matter what you may say or think this thought has crossed all of our minds at one moment or the other. If it were possible, if some guy in a red tailored red suit and pitchfork existed, what would you ask for to satisfy the south fourty in trade for the essence of you being? Hell, lets be honest, at least Eternal Damnation would have some entertaining company.

Perhaps I should explain to everyone now that the last thing in this world that I am or will ever be is politically correct. I actually embrace the concept that words are words and intent is the driving force behind the difference between stupidity and free speech. Salman Rushdie once wrote "With out the freedom to offend there is no such thing as the freedom of speech". I must say that I believe this to be one of the smartest yet most unpopular statements I have heard in a long time.

I don't expect you to like me or agree with me. I do however expect you to continue construction on the gilded calf wile I distract God... Anyone have a shiny object? Hell a set of keys should do. People talk of the second coming of Christ, in my home he wouldn't get up until I got at least three out of him.

But I digress.

I know I worried a few people with last nights posting in regards to surgery today, and the fact I was drinking last night because of it, and for that I do apologize. The basic story on that is that I had some surgical dental work today and was very nervous about having to go through it. Right now I am swollen, sore, and have 5 stitches in my mouth. On the plus side of this its all the ice cream I can eat... Doctors orders :)

The one plus to being forced to take it a bit easy today is that I have gotten a chance to sort through some of my records (of which I have way too many of them, over 10,000) and realize that I have collected over the years a lot of what I would call "Lost music" Songs for some reason or another have been lost to time because of lack of popularity or just being downright politically incorrect.

I have decided to share this music on here. I will warn you now though, my tastes are eclectic and no genre or era is free from my collection.
I plan to post a "Song of the week" in the music section of this site.

To kick this off the first song I am posting is called "Johnny are you Queer" by Josie and the pussycats. Take a listen, its an interesting song where the girl sings about how her boyfriend spends all his time with his male friends. It actually a neat song from the 80's timeframe.

Well, I need to go make another thing of ice cream and curl up in bed. Enjoy the music, and I will be back in full spirits soon.

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


Wednesday, January 28, 2009

A Quick Note

My Fellow Inmates,

A quick note from Rubberasylum as I have promised to post everyday. I am having surgery in the morning and due to this I have been drinking a bit much tonight.

I will never post anything that I can not personally QA, due to this the piece I have written for this evening will have to hold off till tomorrow as I am unable to judge weather of not it is up to the quality that I would want to post.

I appreciate your understanding, and with that I hope you return tomorrow for the next iteration of insanity.

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


Monday, January 26, 2009

As The Cell Door Turns

My Fellow Inmates,

Well as soon as one thinks they are settled, life rears its left asscheek and aerates the room. Having recently moved it appears I shall be doing so again some time within this year.

It looks like we are going to be moving into a larger home. That being said, the play space will now actually be in a basement and twice the size of the space we have to use at the moment. This is the plus.

The negative part is at this moment the padded cell is on hiatus. I am not sure about the size and layout of the new digs, and until I get a chance to see it I will have to place that project on the back burner...

With that said though, a larger space means that the one major toy I have wanted for so long, a Striker gurney (pictured) is not only a possibility but an inevitability.

In our current home there is not the space for it. In the new place there is more than enough, and I have some hardcore bondage ideas using this toy that I have never seen done before. Experimentation on willing, and or unwilling participants is one thing that I enjoy quite well, and anything that holds them down tighter is a major plus in my book.

Stay tuned on all of that.

In the meantime we are still piecing together the current playroom, though now that we know its temporary progress will probably slow a bit after the BDG table arrives, and the grand ideas shall wait until the permanent location is readied for setup.

Realize that this means that when we do move, I will chronicle the building of the play space, from the blank pix of the empty room as we first see it to the finished space once all is said and done.

Think of it as Martha Stewart's Dungeon Living

For now look forward to thoughts, plans, play, and twisted humor as we count down the months to the new play space.

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


As The Cell Door Turns

My Fellow Inmates,

The first order of business is to remember what blessed font I used the day before when I posted the last blog... This brings us to the next part, the blog itself. It can be hard to figure out sometimes what to say in a blog that is posted daily: What do people wish to hear about, what ramblings are better kept inside the grey matter than unleashing upon the unsuspecting populace?

One way or the other I plan to post daily on this, Asylum holds his own unique brand of insanity and inquiring minds want to know. Even though Rosanne did not birth my Alien love child, and in so many ways I am thankful for this, I still have many insightful things to share (I.e. What's the best way to get those pesky cum stains out, Great J-lube recipes, & No mater what he says that catsuit does not make you butt look fat). Heloise Eat your heart out...

Before you ask, I am the most normal person I know... be afraid, be very afraid...

As you can see by the Picture the playroom has taken a next step forward... Yes I realize all we did was put up pegboard and hung gear, but it definitely has an ambiance about it.

Now before you ask, yes its white, deal with it. If you haven't figured out asylum's attachment to the whole institutional look yet... well.... *cough*... Moving forward.

Oh by the way, we ordered a BDG bondage strap table with all the trimmings, that should be here any day now... Also other stuff soon to come in, more on that later...

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


Sunday, January 25, 2009

Moving Day: In More ways than one

My fellow inmates,

Welcome to my new blog, yes trite I know, but it seemed the best way to start as any. We of questionable morals welcome those who have made the trek over to the new website, and to those who are still adding me as a friend on the old site... umm... Catch a clue, thanks.

It has been a hell of a month not only for Rubberrebel and Guyzingear, but for the Asylum as well. Those of you who know me know that I have now moved from the old apartment (Yes I know it smelled like pets, That is gone now) To a home in Bellevue, Washington. Like George and Wheezy the Asylum has moved on up to the eastside.

In the process of doing so I decided to donate 90% of my belongings (read: all the shit the ex bought) to Goodwill for people who could stomach looking at it more than I could to use. This means that the Asylum's Karma cup overfloweth at the moment and the progress of the new place definitely shows it.

The playroom was the first place we dug our heels into to get going, and as soon as the first bed was set up with the Argentino restraint suit and the Posey restraints, well as you can see by the pic we quickly found ourselves sidetracked and deep in play.

We have a long way to go, and lots of projects to do to get there, from the continued assembly of the playroom, to the building of the padded cell. I plan to chronicle all of this here in this blog. Lets also not forget the acquisition of gear either. From the simple hood to a one of a kind bondage suit that will make the Studio Gum Rubber Prison Suit look like child's play...

Its all coming, and soon...

Make sure you check out the relocated club as well called "The Rubber Asylum"

There we will post all new pictures as we take them, and gather a group of like minded perverts for other twisted activities.

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


Saturday, January 24, 2009

Welcome to the Asylum

Medical restraints, designed to be completely inescapable. You know when you hear the click of that lock that you are there to stay.

Most are designed with proprietary keys so only the holder can let you out, and the truly special of these tout a breaking strength of over one-thousand pounds rendering escape to be all but a pipe dream for the person caught within their grasp.

The feelings and sensations brought on by this level of helplessness hark back to the days of old style institutions where the restraints were the center of your treatment. A time before terms like “patient’s rights” and “chemical restraints” were even entered in to the lexicon.

A world where just by upsetting the wrong person a patient was liable to be placed in immobilizing restraints and dark seclusion for no reason other than sport.

Your life was their say; your fate was decided for you; you were a member of the Asylum.

In this world liberties were often taken, sadists ruled the guard-stations, and patients were at their mercy.
When faced with this kind of torment and seclusion the seconds would pass like hours, the hours like days, and the days like an eternity.

This was not a medical world by any stretch; this was a holding pattern for tortured souls. Odd and strange experimentations into the mind, in to sensation and human limits would take place within the depths of the institutions.

No regulation, no mercy, no way out…
The time has come once again to embrace this world… My World…

Welcome to The Rubber Asylum.