Voluntary Prisoner

Chapter Two-2

From this point the hoses and wires of the umbilical had to be connected and this took about 15 minutes. They’d already been bundled together and clipped to short, supporting springs on the ceiling so that I wouldn’t trip on them, nor would I be able to kick them in an attempt to try and interrupt or stop the e-stim or vacuum. First, I reached over my right shoulder and brought the hoses and e-stim cable through the shoulder ring of the upper body harness, then quickly connected them to the vacuum/electrical breast cups’ two hose connections and e-stim cable; securing them with a wrench The left side hose and cable were soon similarly routed, then behind me came the connection of the umbilical to the p***s milking unit’s doubled hoses, its e-stim cable and that for the butt plug. I had to manage this by feel alone, but soon they too had been tightened with the wrench and with that done, I made the electrical connections for the ear buds, the heart monitor and the heat sensors. All of these formed a loose, dangling mass behind me and because I like things neat and tidy, at the centre of my back above the belt, I used additional cable ties to make an organised group.

From this point on, things began to get more and more scary. I had to slip the partially-inflated mouth piece of the butterfly gag into my mouth, then pop the holes of its wide mounting and sealing strap onto the helmet’s fastening ‘buttons’. The semi-flaccid body of the pad with its pass-through drinking tube, slipped easily through the helmet’s aperture and nearly filled my mouth. Even though it was not filled to the point that it pressed my tongue down and back into my throat, it did not project far enough back to bring on a retching reflex, but virtually eliminated any kind of coherent speech. Now, I’d reached the point that it was time to put on the gas mask and once I wore it with the head harness straps fully-tightened, Id immediately put on the wet suit’s open-faced, matching helmet.

The gas mask slipped easily over my head, then settled in place over my face, resting lightly for the moment on the slick surface of the more and more oppressive inner helmet. I wriggled it around until the facial portion was as comfortable as possible while wearing the gag and biting down on it, then before tightening any of the head harness straps, I ensured that the reservoir’s drinking tube had projected into the one going through the gag pad. In pairs, I pulled the straps tight and when I tightened the top two, the mask’s soft silicon rubber, widely-flanged, edges around my face pressed into firm contact on the inner rubber helmet, forming an airtight seal. The immediate sense of restriction and the hissing of my breath through the intake and exhaust valves underlined its effectiveness as a bondage accessory, but now it was time to put on the three mm thick, open-faced, wet suit’s helmet. I raised it over my head, then slowly pulled it down; its nylon lining sliding easily over the straps and buckles of the gas mask’s securing harness. With it fully in place there was now no way I could loosen and remove the oppressive gas mask without first taking it off, but there were a couple of more steps to take before removal became impossible. As mentioned, the helmet is designed with a wide ‘skirt’ around the base of its collar and I now tucked that under the edges of the still-opened suit. To complete the encapsulation of my head I grasped the suit’s zipper lanyard and slowly pulled the locking tab to the top of the suit’s high collar at the back of my neck, thus sealing my entire head and body away from the outer world. Now, only my lower arms, and hands remained in contact with the outer air.

Sealed within the helmets and the gas mask, I tried to push the partially-filled with silicone gel bladder aside with my tongue, but it was now no longer possible thanks to the bulk of the pad and the snug, inner facial cup of the gas mask, in combination with the wide strap holding everything against my face. The gag pad could now only be moved back and forth a little, but was impossible to even partially eject it from my mouth and when I attempted to speak, I could only make the smallest, garbled noises. They’d barely be heard, even by someone standing beside me. Unbidden, erotic visions of being kept a prisoner inside something like this for days or weeks flashed across my increasingly fevered mind while I felt the over-all compression and containment, together with my gas mask-restricted vision and the almost total lack of sound. It all made for a unique sensory experience, but now it was time for the remaining parts of my ensemble to be added.

With my completed rubber entombment, it was time to tighten the loose straps of my upper body harness so that everything became snug and even more restrictive. I also had to hook myself up to the suspension rig that consisted of the suspending cable itself, then at its end a large locking hook. From this an inverted V of chain went out to a metre long spreader bar and from the ends of this bar, two sets of 30 kg tension rated, long springs hung in readiness. I clipped the ends of one set of springs to the hip rings of my cinch and the other two to each of the large rings on my shoulders . Once I’d done that and everything was connected to the hook at the end of the cable, I was a doubly leashed prisoner. The overhead cable descended from a pulley on the main beam in the rafters far over my head and thence to the winch. When it was turned on, I’d be pulled high into the air, so that the horseshoe’s on my footwear would be a full five and a half metres above the arena’s floor and there would be no way for me to get myself down.

Although each breath against the encapsulating suits and the harness took a only small effort, just the act of inhaling added considerably to my already intense sensations of enclosure and being controlled and that would increase dramatically when the air hoses were connected. Experimentally, I held my hands over the gas mask’s intake fittings and immediately felt it suck more tightly against my rubber-covered face when I attempted to inhale. Wow! I quickly removed my palms from them and looked with growing trepidation at the long, black, corrugated air hoses that looped across the ceiling and disappeared into the panel to the other room. Inside, they were connected to the PLC, then to the partially water-filled, large bubbler columns, but for the moment I didn’t connect them to my mask. That was going to be one of the last things I did before fitting myself with the hand and wrist restraint system.

It was time to put on my five mm thick, 50 mm wide, stainless steel Axsmar® collar. Over the nape of my neck, the end link of its leash led up to the ceiling ring. Once I locked it closed, I’d have made myself into a total, fully-controlled prisoner, securely locked inside a double, rubber entombment and vulnerable to any of the automated torments that the PLC or Marlene would deliver. This was a huge major decision point because with it in combination with the floor leash, I’ll be absolutely restricted to only a small circle of freedom, although I would be able to reach and sit on the nearby, bolted-down stool. Another fit of trembling anticipation and fear ran through my body, but I continued my preparations with fingers that are becoming more and more palsied. Lifting the steel band to my multiply rubber-tubed neck, I swung the wide collar closed, then used the tiny Allen Key to screw-in the small, yet very strong, top and bottom edge, locking pins located within the collar’s five mm thickness. Once that was done, I tossed the small key towards the wall so that now there was no way for me to release myself from the collar and thus all of the helmets, gas mask, and suits. Marlene would decide when it was time for my release, and for all I knew she might decide to leave me just like I now was for the night and what a scary thought that was!

From that point, allowing some slackness, I brought the umbilical behind me up to the back of my neck and used another cable tie to keep it closely-bundled, then an additional one to fasten this and my breast cups’ hoses and cables to the back ring of the collar. The already-filled drinking reservoir was heavy when I picked it up then fitted it to the front of the gas mask, rotating its collar until there was a solid snap of the connection being made, then I sucked on the gag for a few seconds until a trickle of water came through the pad to the back of my throat. Because it’s an ‘on-demand’ system, it would not flood the mask, but its weight on the front of my face is uncomfortable after only a minute and very soon I will be unable to escape it, once my hands and wrist have been fitted with their restraints.

The last hoses to be connected were those for my air supply and I reached around my neck, then pulled the right side, black corrugated hose’s fitting to the air intake port of the mask and with my fingers screwed it into its mount as tightly as I could. I repeated the process on the left side, then with a slip-jaw wrench, tightened these fittings to the point that I’d be unable to loosen them with my gloved hands. With that done I tossed the wrench over against the wall. My first breath confirmed the secure seal of the gas mask and the air hose connections and I immediately felt the increased restriction to inhaling because now, all of the air I used had to first pass through the water columns and valves before I could get it into my lungs. The hissing noises of my breath through the intake and the exhaust valves were a continual cadence of my submission to the constant breath limitation but I could only sense them and not truly hear the noises. I keep calm, although I cannot help but be deeply aware of the restriction to my breathing, and already with each breath, a sense of impending panic at what I’ve committed myself to, begins to grow larger and larger at the back of my mind. The unending need to make an effort for every breath was both tiring and scary, but now I could not escape it!

My chest heaved with constrained, nervous gasps when I contemplated what I was about to do next. The keys and other tools that would be needed to open and release all the components of my entire restraint and control system hung on the wall at the other end of the room, far beyond my reach, but easily available to Marlene. For a short time I’d only be able to stare longingly at them, but that would soon stop.

The next-to-last articles were the two pairs of gloves.

The first, inner pair are relatively thin, and only slightly limit the freedom of motion of my hands, fingers and thumbs, but they do reduce my sensation of touch substantially. Once lubricated with the silicon oil, they slid onto my hands and fingers easily, then I rolled the sleeves of the inner suit down over their gauntlets and closed the zippers, sealing them in place. It was time for the thicker, outer gloves and after they’d been lubricated, they slipped easily over the inner ones and partway up my already rubber-tubed forearms. These gloves truly inhibited touch and the ability to manipulate things. I rolled the wet suit’s sleeves down over their forearm gauntlet portions, then pulled the arm zipper tabs down to my wrists so that they became integrated with the outer suit. I flexed my hands and attempted to curl my fingers, but could only partially-manage it.