Rubberasylum
patreon
Story: Room 336 Part 2
🕑 Added 2018-02-13 04:56:39 +0000 UTC When one is lost in space, on missions of transcendental exploration, one must take care, for all but a light touch can shatter a universe.I jumped, instantly rediscovering my tethers while driving my crotch deep in to the spikes surrounding it. As I screamed in to my gag, memories of the night before flooded back to haunt me.
Laying as still as possible and concentrating on breathing slowly, I waited patiently for the pain to subside in my groin, only to gave it replaced by all new sensations wracking my whole body.
My god, I hurt like hell! Between my jaw from the gag, my arms from the jacket, and random joints across my body; I was on fire!
I began to moan woefully in to the gag, only to be answered instantly by a hand stroking my head through the hood.
I jumped again...
As the racked pain once again subsided to a dull roar I whined lightly in to the gag...
Whoever you are, my mind screamed, Please, mercy... Save me from this torment... And if by some miracle, my head was lifted off the pillow as the hood began to be unlaced.
The bright lights of the room flooded my eyes causing them to water and squeeze shut after being sealed in darkness for so long. “Just relax boy,” a voice said next to me as finger stroked my sweat soaked hair.
As I laid there trying to recover, the gag was removed, and I felt a straw being slid between my lips. I was so thirsty I accepted it and began to drink even without being able to see or asking what I was ingesting. The ice cold water decimated the desert that had formed around the gag, overnight, and as I rolled my tongue through the wonderful liquid, my mouth began to feel close to normal again.
A gloved hand covered my eyes, "Go ahead, open them." the voice said. As I did so the fingers slowly spread allowing my eyes to slowly acclimate to the light.
I blinked a few timed before turning my head to the side, only to come face to face with the mysterious man from the night before in the Lycra and gasmask.
He was kneeling beside the bed, his Lycra suit was shiny, coated in something to give it a slick, almost wet look. His body's muscle tone showed through belaying someone who lived his life in the gym. The suit must have been all encompassing for I found my eyes drawn to the eternal blackness radiating from deep inside the lenses of his mask.
My first reaction was one of fear, my eyes widened as it's hand stroked my cheek, but as it turned it's head to unlock the straps that held my shoulders to the bed, I saw it, a lock at the peak of the zipper track on his suit.
There was much more to this than meets the eye...
"Good morning, Brian." he said as he looked me in the face and his hand moved back to it's previous interest in my hair.
"Please," I replied hoarsely, "I am so sore."
"Yes, that shall happen, but you will get used to it, perhaps even eventually find enjoyment."
"Please." I repeated softly.
He leaned back and sat down on the floor, folding a leg underneath himself.
"We must talk first." He said as he fidgeted with the hood he had pulled from my head. "You are confused, your fight or flight reflex is poised and ready, they are aware of this. The probability of you attacking me is high, 96% in fact..."
"I won't, I promise."
He waived his hand at me, "It doesn't matter, I am of no concern to them, a castaway of the program, not of any use, yet not allowed to leave. I’m living forever in purgatory, truly expendable. With that said though, be aware that attacking me, however it may make you feel, is sheer futility. We are locked in this room together, I have no way to let you out. Do you understand?"
I nodded softly, as he moved back in close to the bed and began to undo the straps holding my legs immobile.
"What is the program?" I asked as I watched him remove the socks from my feet and unbuckle the restraints from my legs.
“It is what you make of it. It’s different for everyone: intentions, actions, wants, desires, human nature… They want what you won’t give, what you can’t give, what you shall give. We are all but puzzle pieces in the game…”
He unstrapped the rest of the jacket from the bed, and I groaned in pain as I sat up. “The Game?”
“The Program.” He replied as he let out the tension on my arms, which unfurled like two dead weights, to my side.
As he pulled the jacket off, I flopped back on the bed with my back against the wall. I closed my eyes and concentrated on willing away the pain in my joints, and the growing discomfort of my arms waking back up. “What’s your name?” I asked through partially gritted teeth.
“Does it matter?” he said, setting the jacket next to the door and leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed.
I sighed, I was tired, sore, and I didn't know what was going on. I wasn't in the mood to play. “What may I call you then?”
“Fourteen.”
“As in the number?”
“Get used to it.”
“Are you one of them?”
“Only a fool would expect an honest answer to that question in here.”
“Are you?”
“No.” He cocked his head to the side; “Do you believe me?”
“No.” I replied with a scowl. He made some good points, frustrating, but valid never the less.
“Good, trust no one in this god forsaken place.”
“Was that your mistake?” I growled
I received no answer. He just stood there like a statue. The silence hung in the air like an uncomfortably growing fog. It got to the point that I needed to ask something, anything, to cut through the murkiness of the moment. I motioned in his direction, “So what’s with the getup? I mean, you look very attractive in it, but does it serve any other purpose than eye candy?”
“Finally an intelligent question.”
“That you are not going to answer?” I sighed pursing my lips.
“No.” he replied nonchalantly, almost as if he was finding the humor in this.
I was starting to get aggravated, I stood up from the bed and advanced on him, yet he didn’t budge an inch. “Look, what good are you?”
“None, I have already told you that. Asking previously answered questions is a futile exercise.”
His infuriating calmness to my growing agitation was starting to boil my blood. Turning around I stared up at the ceiling and screamed “WHOEVER YOU ARE, LET ME FUCKING GO!!”
“That won’t work, they don't care.” He replied in that same soft bored tone.
That was it. I was done playing. Turning back around I poked him hard, in the chest, with my finger, “I came here to save Jason only to find myself turned on and sold out. I didn’t sign up for this. You may not be able to let me out of here, but you are going to answer my fucking questions one way or the other!”
“Am I now? I don’t think so.”
With that I snapped. I growled as my fingers wrapped around his throat. I squeezed for all my might, but I might as well have had my hands around a lead pipe. “Very bad move.” He said as he laughed at me.
My mind began to cloud as I started to cough. My eyes widened as the realization of what was happening hit me. I clawed at his gasmask but it didn’t budge. I could hear his laugh echo in my mind as consciousness left me.
I woke to music, trance to be precise, pulsating in my ears. “Welcome to the program, 336” a voice whispered out intertwined with the sound. All was dark around me. The smell of leather and pressure on my head belayed a hood laced on just one step below viciously tight.
I was laying on my back on a padded surface, spread eagle. I was unable to move a muscle. I began to struggle in my bonds when a sweet smelling rush hit my senses.
I was transferred up to a higher plane as a wave of electrical current pulsed across the surface of my body. I attempted to arch my back in to it as a second wave hit, and a third, and a forth.
They felt like they all hit me from different directions as they wove their individual patterns and pulses across the surface of my soul. The beat of the music reached out and took control of the electrical pulses like some impish orchestra conductor hell bent upon the destruction of my mind.
With another wave of sweet rush came an amplification in the sensations attacking my nervous system, as the edges of my body fuzzed from my mind. My prostate pulsated with the bassline of the music as the electrical net that held me within its grasp toyed with my concept of reality.
I could feel something being slid down the center of my dick as the wave encompassed my cock as well. There were a few tugs at my hood, and the acrid taste of urine filled my mouth. I gasped a few times, fighting the brink, struggling for the concept of control, trying to wrap my brain around being made to recycle.
…And with a final sweet rush that lifted me in to the air coupled with an amplification of my electrical torment which completely blew my mind, I was gone…
