Countless days and nights went by. I was no longer aware of time. My only focus was on my bondage which was never-ending. When the piss bucket hanging from my tender balls was full and dripping onto the floor, splashing onto my legs, Master came in, emptied it, and hung it there again to be refilled. I don't know how many times I filled the bucket - several. Then, suddenly, it was over. The bucket was emptied and not replaced. The impaler was lowered and me with it. I was pulled up off of it, my legs, hands, head, and balls released from their prisons, and led over to the corner wash basin. The slight stubble that had collected all over me was my only clue to time passed; around a week I judged. I don't know what in me encouraged me to try to keep up with time. Why? There was no time for me in the traditional sense. This was obviously his plan, to obscure my sense of time. It was working. But meanwhile I would hang on to this only clue - the stubble of hair. It was a simple thing, but somehow I needed the connection with time reality. Otherwise I imagined that I would be insane. And maybe I already was? In my former life I had been a stickler for keeping to the schedule. I never missed a deadline in my 12 years as a journalist. The schedule was, I began to realize now, my former Master. I had simply exchanged one for the other. The difference now was that I had zero input. I would be making no decisions. Whereas before I had focused on my creative output, I now was forced to focus ONLY on my bondage. The chain that pulled constantly at my neck did that. Hoods, ball rings, manacles, leg irons, dildos, would all come and go, but that collar and chain was on me for good.
Master finished washing me and fed me as before, from a bowl on the floor, with my hands chained behind me and holding onto the dildo. While I was eating he said something to me. Mind you, he had said VERY little, and I had said NOTHING since my incarceration.
"After eating," he spoke gently, "You will have some down time, a brief rest before you meet with the piercer." That's all he said, but the last word rang like a bell through my mind. I almost choked on the last few bites. I was required to finish all of the food, foul though it be. PIERCER! My mind was racing. I remembered now that early in our preliminary discussions he had mentioned that I would receive some piercings that would be used for bondage purposes. In my early fantasies I had imagined small chains crisscrossing my body, connecting my genitals to my tits and such, but I hadn't thought about it since the collar was installed. The collar and the dildo had consumed all my thinking. Now I could only think of the needle. As a teen ager I had ONE piercing, my left nipple. I always wanted piercings, but after one I decided that the pain and trouble were not worth it! There was also the ordeal of healing the piercing which took a couple of weeks. At least, I reasoned, that would be another measure of time for me to latch onto. Why was I trying so hard to keep a sense of time? Was I afraid of losing control? Who was I kidding? Control was ancient history for me! I was in control of NOTHING! SOMEone was coming SOMEtime to stick needles into me and I didn't know when, or what would be pierced...there was that word again. But I would have my promised rest and some time to prepare my mind for the inevitable.
Rest is a relative term. At its root it means to cease movement. My rest period would certainly fit this description! Master moved me over to the far back corner of the room which housed a work table. It was more elaborate than the one that had been there when I first surveyed the room. He ordered me to insert the dildo which I did quickly. I had had a little practice, and my ass was getting used to the invasion. He then buckled a harness onto me which circled my waist, went over my shoulders and around my chest. It also had two straps which went down either side of my genitals and connected in the rear so as to tighten the dildo against me, effectively locking it into place. After tightening and buckling all the straps he covered my eyes with a leather blindfold and ordered me onto the sturdy table. He was patient while I carefully felt my way. I had noticed a small, depression at one end which I assumed would cradle my head. Thankfully the depression was lined with soft leather. I lay my hands beside me and stretched out my tired, sore legs. The table was basically the length of my body and covered with holes which I assumed would be used to tie me down. I was right! Beginning at my head, he attached my collar to an eye bolt on the table just beside my neck so that the chain wouldn't pull on me. The chain and collar were heavy enough that extended pressure could cause blood restriction and I was far from the center of the room where the other end was attached. He then tied me down, all of me, using nylon rope. He obviously had considerable practice using rope and after a while I felt literally encased in rope. Even my fingers and toes were individually tied down to the point that any movement on my part was impossible. I was also aware that my genitals and my nipples had been conspicuously avoided in the binding process. They were obviously to become the objects of the piercing process. Instructing me to keep my eyes closed, he removed the blindfold and placed a leather cage-like harness on my head. It didn't cover my eyes or my nose but included a rather thick mouth gag which effectively prohibited me from making any sounds other than groans or grunts. Using D-rings attached to the head harness, Master then immobilized my head, again using bits of rope to tie me down to the table.
My eyes still closed, I sensed an increase in the intensity of the overhead spotlight which shined down on me. I was given permission to open my eyes to an awesome sight. The light was aimed at the center of my body away from my eyes and I could see VERY clearly in an overhead mirror the length of my bound body. This would be my so-called rest, bound immovably and staring at my nipples and genitals, wondering just where the piercer's needles would be placed. How many piercings would I get? What sort of devious bondage did he mean? Would my nipples and genitals now suffer the same fate as my pitiful neck? Would they too, be attached permanently to a wall, the ceiling, the floor? I could only wonder and wait. He left the bright light on, left the dungeon, locking the door as he did. Why would he need to lock the door, I thought? I'm not going anywhere! It was briefly a funny thought, but the reality of my situation quickly brought me back to the fear and dread which, I am sure, were a crucial part of Master's plans. I knew from my one experience with the needle, that the apprehension of waiting for it was worse than the actual brief pain. But I couldn't imagine that Master has planned only 1 or 2 piercings. I was sure that I could plan on numerous encounters with the needle. I could only guess at how many and where they would be.
Enjoy, and please let me know if you do... idzervit@lycos.com