You would think that the first thing I noticed were the metal cuffs around my wrists and ankles, holding me in place on the surprisingly comfortable chair. Or the sharp cold of the room against my naked body, feeling colder still from the beads of sweat forming in every pore. Maybe how hard my nipples are, despite the terrifying scenario that I can’t comprehend.

No, the first things that come to me are the sensations that are completely new. I can feel a painful strain around my cock, stopping it from getting hard, and something tied around the top of my ball sack that uncomfortably pinches. My virgin hole has been completely filled with something huge, or at least that’s how it feels – it’s like it’s tearing me in two and my ring is burning as it locks itself around the invader. The feeling of it inside me is like I need to shit without being able to, and it just feels wrong.

But the worst part is that whatever it is inside me is pressing right on a spot that seems to be giving me pleasure, and the tip keeps vibrating on a cycle that intensifies and then slows, round and round and round for what feels like an eternity. I can feel the precum forming on my caged cock, dripping away, presumably forming a pool on the chair beneath me. My body shakes with pleasure, anticipating through each cycle that this time, this might be the one, this time I might get to release despite my cock not getting big or being touched. But it never happens.

I don’t want them, but I learn to accept these feelings.

Smell.

I encounter different smells throughout my time in the chair. At the beginning, I could feel something like string around my ears and tightened around the back of my head, held in place. It felt heavy at the front, like all of the weight was there, and whatever it was trapped my nose in a prison completely devoid of fresh air. At first, the smell was unbearable. It smelt kind of like stale cheese, and it was damp – I could have sworn that I could feel drops of stinking condensation form up my nostrils from time to time, and even once or twice trickle down the back of my throat. It didn’t take long to realise that I was breathing in someone’s foot funk. Not to generalise, but it smelt like a teenage boy’s sneaker that he had worn without socks on many a hot day. Musty, cheesy, damp. But the problem was, the vibrations up my arse made me appreciate the smell over time. I started to like it. I started to crave it. The sexual electricity was rewiring my brain.

It was just as I was starting to appreciate the beautiful stink that the shoe was untied from my head. Now something hard was placed on my nose, not fitting snuggly but close enough to fill my nostrils with something new. New and disgusting. It smelt like piss, and sweaty pubic hair. In my head, I begged for the beautiful sweaty shoe to come back. But again, over time, I came to appreciate this smell too. The smell of a man’s crotch. I could almost taste cum from the sweaty balls, the wonderful balls, the smell of a real man. I felt like I no longer was a real man - with my cock so tightly contained, how could I be?

The final smell attacked my nostrils the hardest. It was truly awful. It was as though someone had shit and pissed into some underwear and pushed it hard into my nose, and I suspect that this is exactly what it was. It was like they had been worn for days, or even weeks, and I could feel my stomach turning, wanting to wretch. But like the others, I grew to love it. The vibrations up my arse taught me to appreciate the smell of piss and shit. When that was finally removed from my face after an unknown amount of time, I moaned out of disappointment.

I didn’t want these smells at first, but I learn to appreciate them.

Sight.

For most of the time I couldn’t see anything. Just pure blackness, lost in the dark. I have no idea where I am, and assume that it’s a blindfold covering my eyes.

But I was wrong. After a while, some images start to flash in front of me. A lot of them are generic, like massive cocks and balls, quite a lot of feet and sweaty white socks. The images disgust me. I have never looked at other naked men – even in the gym, I keep myself to myself. I’m confident in my heterosexuality but the idea of a naked man makes me want to throw up. Endless images go round and round on rotation. Weirdly, as I come to appreciate the smell of teenage boy sneaker the foot and sock images start to appeal to me a lot more. The same with the cock images and the smell of sweaty balls. Then the images went away. My cock strains in frustration, and my mind is so confused. I’m not gay, but I want to see these things. Each of them seems to be pushing me closer and closer to orgasm and I need all the help I can get to cum.

After some time in blackness, different images appear. A young guy, maybe 19 or 20 years old. He has curly dark hair that is cut quite short. Kind of handsome, in an objective way, coming from a straight guy. A tiny bit of stubble, almost so short it isn’t there, makes his face look almost sexy, if you go for that sort of thing. Which I don’t, of course. But still… there is something appealing about Him.

He appears with no top on, with no clothes on at all, in dirty white socks, with His beat up old sneakers that are bound to smell strongly of teenage boy feet. Round and round these images cycle. Faster and faster, to match the intensity of the vibrations inside me on my pleasure point. I start to imagine myself with Him. My orgasm gets ever closer but I am always denied release.

I don’t know who this guy is, but for some reason He seems to appeal to me.

Taste.

There is something in my mouth. I think I have tape over my mouth to hold it in place, and to stop me from trying to push it out. It seems to suck a lot of the moisture from my tongue, but returns my clean and tasteless saliva full of something foul tasting. I have no choice but to swallow, and tears fill my eyes as it trickles down my throat along with the smells i am forced to endure.

i don’t know why, but after a while i feel compelled to roll it around in my mouth as much as i can. Some of it is damp from where i’ve had it on my tongue, but there are still drier patches. They seem crusty, and taste dirty. my brain figures that it feels like some kind of material, like maybe a sock? It certainly tastes like a sock. A sock that has been worn for days, maybe weeks, full of sweat and foot funk. Over time, putting together the smells, the images and the vibrations inside me, i figure that this strong teenage boy foot taste has been made just for me. All of the pieces seem to be falling into place, and i imagine the sock in my mouth is one of the beautiful socks from the images. i hope it’s one of the really dirty looking ones, a white sock so worn and filthy that it is yellowed from sweat and small patches of foot skin can be seen through the weathered material, especially around the heel and ball of the foot. i continue to roll it around in my mouth to keep the flavour as fresh and exciting as possible. my pathetic cock strains.

Every so often, the tape is removed from my mouth and the sock is taken out. my mind wants it back where it belongs, longs for it. For some reason i can’t make any sound other than a small whimper. A tube is pushed into my mouth, and i automatically wrap my lips around it to form a tight seal. A liquid fills my mouth, slightly warm in temperature and malty in flavour. i don’t enjoy the taste at first but it grows on me, the acidic tang becoming a well needed respite to replace my depleted saliva. My arse vibrates; my cock twitches.

A new, dry sock is placed into my mouth. i forgot how intense the flavour can be, how amazing it is. i suck that sock like my life depends on it, the saliva washing through the sweaty material becoming an ambrosia that fills me with pleasure. i chew hard on the material to squeeze every last drop of flavour out of there, and notice something new – i think someone has cum into the sock before placing it in my mouth. i silently moan. my cock keeps oozing precum.

i don’t know why i didn’t like it at first, but i need the flavour of teenage boy feet in my mouth.

Sound.

Something is on my ears, like a large set of headphones. It covers them up entirely and other than the sounds they produce, i can’t hear anything. They mostly pump out white noise, but i can catch the occasional word through the sounds – ‘Master’, ‘slave’, ‘obey’. Although i can’t make out much, the more i listen the more i enjoy the feelings, smells, images and tastes. my brain feels like it is rewiring, and i am grateful for the pleasure. In my head, i thank whoever is doing this to me, over and over and over. i have named Him Master – it just seems right. i’m certain that i came up with this myself and it wasn’t an instruction from the sounds being played.

When the sock is taken from my mouth, and the malty liquid is fed to me, the sounds change slightly. i can make out something like ‘Master’s piss is delicious’. i’m not sure why it’s telling me that, but i guess it must be true. The sounds haven’t lied to me yet, and they’re helping me to appreciate all of the other sensations.

The sounds go back to the white noise once the liquid has all gone and a new sock has been placed in my mouth. The sounds become more and more comforting. The words i can make out get stronger and stronger over time – ‘cumdump’, ‘slave nub’, ‘sock slut’, ‘boi pussy’. i don’t think i knew what these meant before this all started but these all seem like natural terms to me now. i know they apply to me. my slave nub strains in its cage, oozing more precum as the plug up my boi pussy vibrates harder than ever.

i didn’t understand at first, but the sounds have made everything clear.

Reality.

Everything stops suddenly. i don’t know how long this has been going on for, but it must be three or four days at least. i haven’t slept for the whole time and my body is in agony from all the pleasurable shaking it has been doing. Every muscle burns. But the pain of my slave nub is the worst of all, slick with precum and never finding release. i want to buck my hips to try and get some friction but something in my brain stops me. i stay still.

The headphones are removed. There is silence, except for someone moving around me and taking the constituent parts of my imprisonment away. The tape is taken from my lower jaw and i can feel fingers enter my mouth to remove the sock. i try to protest but something in my brain stops me. i remain silent.

The underwear is removed from my nose and the horribly foul smelling fresh air attacks my nostrils. i desperately want the stinks to come back, to fulfil me. Any of them would be nice – feet, socks, sneakers, underwear, balls, arse… the fresh air makes me gag a little, i won’t be able to cope in it for long. The blindfold is removed next, and the blinding light of the room stings my eyes. i can’t see much at first except for a silhouette of a man standing in front of me. He seems to look around 19, 20 years old? It takes me a moment to realise that it is Him from the images. i want to look at His face, look Him in the eyes, but something in my brain stops me. i look downwards, towards the floor.

Finally, the cuffs are removed from my ankles and wrists. i try to stand up -  nothing in my brain is trying to stop me from doing this, so i guess it’s allowed. As i stand, the butt plug slides out of my arse, and the overwhelming emptiness consumes me. i fall to my knees, then to all fours. Tears start to trickle down my cheeks. i need something inside me. Please. my mind begs. i do not say it out loud. Something in my brain stops me. i stay silent and continue to look at the floor.

He steps closer to me, and his sneaker stops under my face. i can smell his teenage boy feet through His sneaker. The socks must have been worn for days. i hope weeks. i lower my face to the tip of His sneaker and gently kiss. With a single word, my face beams with perfect joy and my slave nub finally releases uncontrollably all over the floor with the best and most intense orgasm of my life.

‘Master.’