Snug as a bug in a rug
I won't claim that I was being abused. In the first place he wouldn't listen to me and in the second place I was actually beginning to look forward to the challenge of trying to escape from whatever situation he was devising. I doubt if this was an application of the Stockholm syndrome, but in retrospect I probably wouldn't rule it out entirely either.
The use of the metal brackets continued in mixed form through the next week. Having seen a few examples already, I will leave it to your evil imagination to guess the various ways I was confronted with them in that time. Whatever you can think of, you're probably right. Fortunately, he never “encouraged me” to sleep in the wrist/ankles bar. My back was more than willing to file an official protest with my brain should I wind up entertaining myself in that for more than two hours.
The neck/wrist device was in such constant use that after a few days even though on my back with my wrists to either side of my head, and my ankles spread in a fixed distance from each other, I was actually sleeping like a baby. On that note, I began to observe that when I was put to bed in that manner, none of the day's problems or frustrations got past the iron to make it to my brain and so keep me awake. All I was focusing on was relaxing as much as possible in that current circumstances.
One evening however brought with it a more somber experience for me. After I had crawled into bed and was clamped into the iron brackets both above and below, he stands up and looks at me and says, “wait there, I'll be right back.”
Now what I ask myself. My first rational thought was that he was going to be fishing in the toy box for in addition to the current ensemble. What would he come back with? A gag? A muzzle? A blindfold? A leather helmet? Or perhaps even the sensory deprivation helmet?
Finally I hear him coming back and as he enters the room I see he has some object in his hand even though I can't tell what they are. He puts them down on the edge of the bed just out of my sight and picks up the first one. It's a clean white athletic sock which he begins to roll into itself. Now that I see that I'm relatively certain where that is going. The thoughts go through my mind, do I resist him and have him figure out how to force it into my mouth or do I just passively go along? Despite how much fun it is for me to “push his buttons” I had a strange feeling that at this time it would be in my best interests not to provoke him. As he moved the sock ball towards my head I simply open my mouth and he gently inserted it filling my mouth completely. The next treasure he grabbed was the role of cellophane tape that he had used on me before. It was approximately 2 inches wide, the same as common duct tape. He gently lifts my head as he raps about three laps of this tape over my mouth and around my head, holding the sock in so it definitely is not coming out until he is ready for it.
Once that was done, he takes the palm of his hand and runs it first of the inside and outside of my left leg to be followed by my right. He then begins to stroke with his open palm my belly and my chest and then each respective arm. He finally takes the backside of his index finger and stroke slightly under each armpit.
“You didn't listen or follow orders, did you?”
Hmmm? I responded with a rather blank look on my face I'm sure.
“Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” And with that, he brings into my vision what I considered to be an industrial pair of tweezers that opened and closed like a pair of scissors. I then began to get a frightening idea of what he was referring to.
“Nmmmmnn, Nmmmmm, Unnnnn (which to me at that time perfectly sounded like no! No! Don't!.)”
“ Getting a little furry now are we? I told you what was going to happen if you didn't keep yourself trimmed as instructed. It appears you have neglected maintenance completely and are therefore to be fully endowed with a significant reminder to help jog your memory for future references.”
I remembered then that back when he shaved me from the neck down he warned me to maintain it or he would take a pair of tweezers and do it for me. Oh shit! I had totally forgotten that since in the morning I'm more focused on getting ready for work and in the evening he frankly has me tied up with other things.
I tried puppy dog eyes, pleading sounds, begging, making sounds like I was promising anything… Nothing was working. He leaned across my body and made himself very comfortable resting on my stomach as he proceeded to navigate what appeared to me, his weapon of mass destruction towards my right armpit.
Since he was laying right on top of me, there was no way I could “bounce” that armpit out of range, particularly when he grabbed the arm at the elbow and pushed it up like a teeter totter so it was above my head and my poor armpit was that much more exposed. Slowly but surely the weapon came closer and closer to its target. Although the rates and the amplitude of my pleadings increased proportionately, they likewise seem to have no effect to my relief.
Ultimately, and finally, it arrived at the “promised land” and immediately secured itself to two or three stubble hairs of those that were present in definitely greater number. Yank!
I really didn't think it was going to hurt quite that much nor did I believe I could holler quite that loudly with my mouth stuffed with the gag. Before I could recover this diminutive version of a mechanical T Rex was ripping out another bite. This was followed with similar articulations continuing from me along with the totally unsatisfactory effort to buck him off of my chest. This was repeated about another eight or 10 times and then he moved the operation to the other armpit in a similar manner.
About another dozen impressive experiences were visited in rapid succession up on that defenseless location. By that time I was confident that if nothing else, I was still in good voice.
“Did you think I was kidding?” I frantically shook my head no. This was a trap and I just walked into it!
“So you knew I wasn't kidding and yet you intentionally ignored complying with those instructions!”
Now, even more aggressively I'm shaking my head from side to side and making appropriate “No” sounds to the best of my ability.
He then stands up and pulls the blankets off of my now quivering form. Thinking and hoping that he is through I try to relax a little bit, that is until he sits down near my knees. He now lays across my shins keeping my legs firmly pressed to the bed. He then begins harvesting at random spots along the inner surfaces of my thighs. This goes on for about 10 to 20 minutes as he is not rushing it and appears to be enjoying this song I have recently learned to sing as I keep screaming into the gag and shaking my head from side to side hoping by this point I may successfully be able to twist it off altogether.
“Do you think you've learned your lesson now?” He said laughingly. I of course vigorously nodded my head and did my best that mumbling yes yes yes. “I'm not convinced yet.”
With that he reaches up and pulls my shorts down to my knees. Oh hell! No, please no. Not there! Please, please, please… He slowly moves this junior version of the jaws of death into the sacred netherworld, closer, and closer, and closer.
I'm sure you can imagine what happened next. It was amazing to me as I didn't think I could get any louder than I already had been, but rest assured I was definitely able to achieve some lost octaves. Although he spent a slow 20 minutes or so farming in sacred ground, this time, he did leave the holy of holies untouched. By doing so he definitely and effectively underscored the threat of what awaited me should I become neglectful again.
After what was probably an hour but seemed like a whole day, I was drenched in a cold sweat and my throat had long since dried out and jumped ship. I could hardly whine anymore and in that current situation, that was the distinct disadvantage.
“I'm beginning to get the impression you have learned your lesson and are quite likely to remember it and take care of yourself from this point forward. Is that correct?” I nod my head frantically, reminding me of a woodpecker that is just returned to his favorite tree. “Would you like to relax now?” Again with the nodding head overlaid with my puppy dog eyes. He gently reaches up and pats my head saying “good boy, good boy, I'll be back with a new surprise for you.” Oh God, not something else after all that? I thought.
Soon he returns with something else in his hand that he really doesn't want me to see for some reason. Whatever it is, it's electric as he starts fumbling with the cord to plug it into an outlet. He then reaches over, still with the jaws of death in his hand, and taps the CB 3000 and says, “that's been on you for quite some time now hasn't it? I nod my head. “I suspect that's probably driving you crazy.” I nod my head a little bit more vigorously thinking that perhaps he'll have a kind heart and take it off. “Would you like me to fix that for you?” Definitely nodding head vigorously. “Okay, I'm sure you'll like this.”
With that he brings up something that appears to be about a foot long shaped like a stick and I'm wondering what in the world could that be. Instead of removing the CB 3000, he takes this device and tapes the end of it to the CB 3000 with about four wraps of tape. Shortly thereafter, I find myself beginning to seriously question the legitimacy of his parentage and whether his mother actually did run out from underneath the front porch of their home and bite the mailman in the leg. As soon as he turned it on I realized it was our handheld back vibrator and even though, I must say it certainly felt a lot better then the tweezers, there was no room for the expanding economy to blossom forth in the way that it wanted to. In fact, as he knew, particularly since he then taped the stick and to the inside of my left leg to hold it in place, it was not going to take long at all before my frustration level was going to be totally off-the-wall.
“One more thing, I can tie the two brackets down to the bed or you can promise not to try to sit up, roll over or get out of bed or bend your knees. Do you promise that?” Again, still casting his pedigree in serious doubt, I realized I really didn't have a choice so I nodded my head yes. “Good, in that case I'll say good night and just leave you like that. I figure by morning you should be a quivering mass of jelly, although if I feel kind I might come in earlier and turn it off for you. You never know.” With that he turned out the lights left the room and closed the door behind him.
I can assure you dear friends that in that situation there is only one pressing problem that the brain is capable of focusing on. That is soon followed by a low and soon to be ever increasing moaning and to some extent rocking from side to side, all to no avail.
Since we did not have a rubber room on the premises, he did return after about 30 minutes or so and laughingly crossed the room, shut the diabolical machine off and removed it from its secured location. Knowing exactly what he did however he told me he was not going to restore the covers so I wouldn't have anything to accidentally rub against in case the thought might have crossed my mind.
What a night!