Author's Note: I've wanted to imagine a scenario whereby a submissive male was subjugated to extended long term bondage, and to face up to the real challenges this would present. I have experienced many of the things described, but not over the extended time period cited.

Part 1

He had been hinting heavily that he'd wanted to explore long term captivity for some time. Subtle and not so subtle hints, each time probing away and sounding her out. Her response hadn't been entirely dismissive, but it hadn't been exactly enthusiastic either. She argued practicalities, reminding him that fantasies were one thing but the real world didn't lend itself to his ideas. Undeterred, he asked whether the kids could go and stay at their grandparents for a few days, suggesting that this might give them a little more space to explore. Beneath the surface he was beginning to annoy her with his persistence, and she could feel that his focus had switched from meeting her needs to seeking his own. And this wouldn't do. This wouldn't do at all. For months the balance had been perfect, and now here he was, clumsily promoting his own agenda, souring the mood music of what had become a rich and rewarding relationship. So unbeknown to him she conceived of a plan so devious that he would get to realise his fantasy, and face up to what this meant in the real world.

He returned home Friday evening to be told that they had a couple of hours to themselves. The girls were at their friends, a chance coming together that gave them a small window that they could use to connect. He had noticed that she was wearing a lovely soft perfume, and wearing just a light silk nightdress. The way she greeted him at the door suggested she was feeling more than a little frisky, and he had also noted the empty wine glass beside the pile of books and her kindle. She allowed him to freshen up but made clear that he was expected to present himself naked in the bedroom shortly thereafter. He did as instructed, and she invited him into bed with a gleam in her eye that gave no indication of what lay ahead. She whispered in his ear that it was mid month and they began by softly kissing, lips glancing across each other, the occasional light connection of tongues amidst an embrace which grew quickly in intensity. He responded to her instructions, fully understanding that it was his role to respond to her lead, caressing her as she directed, adjusting the weight and speed of his touch. He could sense she was alight, and over the ensuing minutes he must have kissed every part of her body, moving down her back, lingering upon her buttocks, her thighs, down to her feet which he adoringly devoured and consumed. He could feel her body arch as she touched herself, her breathing quick and intense as her inner thighs became a heated cauldron of rising pleasure. She commanded him to bury his face between her legs, controlling his tongue and issuing clear instructions which he followed with absolute obedience, remaining there for several minutes before she pulled him upward by the hair and ordered him to lay face down. Then she was upon him, thrusting her body against his, grinding herself against him until she climaxed powerfully and deeply, her weight descending upon him as her breathing regained its poise. In silence she moved to her side of the bed and drew him close, and he snuggled into her neck, aware that she required him beside her. His erection was a bar of iron but she paid it no heed, and he had learned not to pester her. It had long since been decided that he was hers to use, and on occasion abuse as she saw fit. And whilst she had quietly learned to enjoy his permanent frustration she felt no compulsion to appease it. His passions were best when they were kept simmering, and since adopting this lifestyle she had seen the difference. He was happier, calmer, altogether more content. And importantly, far easier to instruct. So they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, enjoying the combined warmth.

A short time later, he stirred to the sensation of her hand gripping the shaft of his manhood, squeezing it firmly and he found himself staring into her eyes, which still retained a twinkle best described as mischievous. In silence she moved her hand up and down the shift, waiting for inevitable words he was instructed to voice before she took him over the edge. "I'm close" he breathed heavily, at which point her grip lightened just a fraction. "You're always close these days" she observed. "You poor thing. It must be a terrible burden. I've been reflecting on how I might be able to help"

There was something in the way she so casually voiced this that caused him to feel aroused and suspicious at the same time. And he was no fool. "You're plotting. I'm not daft"

"Not plotting per se. I'm offering you an olive branch. A chance to relieve the frustration. Can I tempt you"

"You rarely do anything but"

"OK then. Here's my thinking. Now we've got an hour before the girls come home, and I was planning to read, which means that come what may you're going to be up here anyway. So I'm thinking I should give you an incentive. What say that if you can escape, which let's face it is unlikely, then as a reward I'm going to bring you to a long slow climax. I'll take you in hand through the nylons you're about to put on, and I'll take you over the edge rather than keeping you teetering. Tempted?"

His eyes lit up."Does a one legged duck swim in circles?"

So it was decided. 60 minutes in which to escape. 60 minutes between him and the glorious relief of a fully blown, slow and euphoric orgasm. Without further ado he left from the bed and was burrowing into his drawer, sliding into sheer nylons whilst she reached into their wardrobe for the bag. He was slightly embarrassed that his erection was so obvious against the barely black tights, but once he climbed into the middle of the bed this was replaced by a throbbing that signified imminent eruption unless due care was taken. As she bound him it felt as wonderful as it always did. The way she pulled the ropes so tight, securing the knots out of reach. He felt a further rush when she secured his 2nd wrist, as psychologically this marked the point of no return. She sauntered to the end of the bed and went to work on his ankles, binding them with absolute authority, drawing the ropes down until he was stretched, taut, beyond any hope of unassisted escape. Then she was moving up the bed rather than stepping around the side, her weight upon his groin, causing him more than a little worry of an accident. She was looking into his eyes, smiling, scheming. He couldn't quite put a finger on it but there was something different about tonight.

"Suppose I should shut you up my boy. Can't have you calling for help can we?"

As if he ever would. As if he wanted to be anything other than her prisoner, at both her mercy and her disposal. From the bag came several pairs of sheer nylons, and he found himself opening his mouth to accept them as if on autopilot. In she fed them, so meticulous, ensuring every last piece was deeply forced into his mouth. As the first nylon hood was carefully added and adjusted the eye contact between them was electrifying. And as the rope was coiled round and round, pulled impossibly and intoxicatingly tight he could feel himself descending into the deep waters of submission. In silence she added a further pair of tights, which she could sense increase his arousal. And after that she just remained atop him, watching him stare helplessly upward, completely under her spell and her control. After a short time she moved from him and lay beside him, but kept staring at him, as if weighing and measuring how to articulate what waited beyond.

"I haven't been entirely honest with you, my boy. The girls aren't at their friends. They're at mum and dads. They'll be home around Sunday teatime. You see, I've been listening to your not so subtle requests. You know, about being kept restrained for an extended period. I've been keeping a record of all the hints you've dropped, pretending not to listen but actually listening rather well. And the truth is, you've been quite the irritant. Don't think I haven't noticed the change. Don't think I can't sense when you begin thinking of yourself before me. And don't think that you're not due a reckoning. Which is what this evening is about. And not just this evening. I'm going to teach you that there are times when you really should be careful what you wish for. Make no mistake, you're going to have your fantasy my boy. And by the time I'm done you'll be sorry that you ever shared it. But first you need time to reflect. So I'm going to go downstairs and read now. I've got three new books from the library, and plenty of time to read them slowly. Make yourself comfortable. In fact enjoy the comfort whilst you can."

And with that she was arising, her outline barely visible through the nylon that covered his face. He could feel his heart pounding, that absurd mix of lust and fear. What did she mean? Was she serious? What exactly was it that she had planned?

He had been in bondage many times. He adored the feeling of belonging, of being completely at the mercy of her will and her whim. She had become an absolute expert in the art of restraint, and he knew full well that his chance of escape was close to nil. Which was what he craved. What gave him the buzz. For him the experience had to be real. He needed to be impossibly bound, mercilessly gagged. His situation needed to be hopeless otherwise it all just seemed like a game. So he settled into his predicament, his mind imaging his Lady downstairs, feet on the sofa, holding her book one handed. Luxuriating, reclining, indulging her passions without giving a care for his plight. His erection hardened further, and as he shifted it rubbed against the tights, very nearly causing him to lose control. He kept very still for a while, trying to regulate his breathing, itself a challenge given the wad of nylon which currently rendered him mute. He was acutely aware that if he moved to much then he'd feel that terrible rush which meant a premature end to his fun. This was never a good thing as it meant an extended period of deep discomfort devoid of pleasure as he awaited her majesties return. After perhaps an hour he could hear her shifting, followed by a sound that thrilled him to the core. Her footsteps ascending the stairs, slow and deliberate, and then the sound of the bedroom door creaking. In silence she approached and he felt the covers drawn back, and his nylons pulled downward. He felt her sliding a shoelace around his balls,wrapping it around the base of his manhood, tightening it and tying it as his testicle tightened within a dramatically reduced space. She was careful not to dig into his skin, but his privates now stood up, presenting a target that he knew she would shortly amuse herself with. Only then he felt her sliding something narrow and weighty over his chest, something that felt like a ruler, a thin dark outline just visible through the fog of his hood. He did not recognise this implement. Was it new?

"Arrived yesterday. Highest quality. I've had JLFLB engraved along the length. Shall I show you how it works?"

She didn't wait for him to mumble an answer, for then he felt the most savage electric shock erupt through his right testicle as she slapped the implement into his flesh. His body arched but his movement was limited. He'd barely come down when his left testicle received an equally sadistic fizz. Next he felt her climb onto him and he could just make out her bare feet each side of his face. Then her bottom was descending upon his face, effectively smothering him further. What followed was one of the most painful, chastening, and dread inducing experiences he had ever faced. Thwack, right testicle, slap, left testicle. Way harder than he could remember from previous ordeals. He wailed and gasped into his gag, biting down on the tights. 15 to each, every blow deliberate and forceful, each inducing a deep cascade of pain that ran from his groin into the pit of his gut. Towards the end she appeared to alternate the timing of each blow, not allowing him to gather or compose himself intentionally preventing him from achieving any poise.

"I'll stop if you tell me to. Just ask nicely, darling" she revealed. His resulting attempts to talk were as comic as they were futile, appearing to her ears as soft and barely audible. "You seem to be enjoying your captivity. You're hard as a rock down below. I wonder what would happen if I did this"

There was the sound of her reaching for the bag, then the soft hiss of further nylons being retrieved. Before he really understood he felt them sliding over his manhood, and then her grip, her glorious hands tightening atop them. She drew the pleasure from him slowly and with sublime skill, ensuring that his climax was long and immense and all consuming. His juices flooded into the nylon, absorbed into the material, the feeling of absolute and stupendous relief perhaps the most incredible he had ever felt.

"You're probably surprised I just did that after denying you for so long. I could have ruined your orgasm. I could have left you frustrated. Thing is, I wanted you completely drained and without libido, because then you get to experience the other side of the coin. Don't think for a second that I'm going to release you. Don't imagine for a second that we've even touched the surface of this fantasy of yours. You wanted extended bondage. You're going to get extended bondage. And for long periods I want to ensure that your frustration is anything but sexual. What happens now is that you stay put. You stay bound and gagged, but minus all the things that made you crave it. Those ropes probably feel quite painful, and those tights are probably soaked in your mouth. In fact I'm going to show you a little kindness and change your gag, but I need to warn you not to say a word. Not a sound. Nothing. And whatever you do don't question what I'm about to use as a replacement."

He was confused and uncomfortable, but nodded obediently for fear of inviting further hardship. She removed the first hood and released the binding behind his neck. It felt lovely as it came loose, and as she reached in and withdrew the material he allowed himself a few mouthfuls of unhindered air. Then he felt her peeling away the soiled tights which she had clamped around his manhood, taking them in both hands in scrunching them into a ball.

"These will do. They're a bit sticky but they'll have to do"

His eyes widened in horror and for a several seconds he involuntarily closed his mouth. Pure reflex, pure disgust. She couldn't possibly expect him to accept these? Her expression changed and hardened, and he felt a rush of fear over power his reluctance. She was serious, and he understood that she had planned this from the start.

"Don't think about denying me. I'll batter your balls black and blue and then you'll open up anyway. Now open your mouth and accept your gag"

His submissive side took over and he opened up, and his eyes glazed over as she unceremoniously stuff tights soiled with his semen into his mouth. Whilst less wet than the old pair, they were damp and sticky and his stomach turned over. She reapplied the rope as tightly, if not tighter than before, and added an additional complimentary pair of tights, taking his hood to three layers now. She pulled the tights he was wearing back above his waist and let the waistband fall with a snap, leaving his balls still bound and protruding.

"You're probably angry right now. Well done for concealing it. I'm just looking at your manhood my darling. It's a bit shrivelled and pathetic. I thought you enjoyed bondage? Gone off the idea now you've exploded into your replacement gag? Oh well never mind. In fact no. Let's make things interesting. I'm going to leave you now and carry on my reading. I've bought a lovely meal for one and there's plenty more wine. I've got a whole weekend of entertainment lined up. I've had weeks to plan this little attitude adjuster for you. Didn't you always say that you loved the idea that I could do this to you? Aren't I good for fulfilling your dreams. Now I probably won't be back for at least a couple of hours, but when I do I expect to find you hard and enthusiastic. I expect to see you bulging, pressing against your nylons. Rest assured I will take a very dim view of any lack of enthusiasm"

With that she was sliding off the bed. She remained in her nightdress and added only her dressing gown, further proof that her agenda was corrective rather than pleasurable. She had determined that he needed to understand that she was the Lady Of The House, and that this position meant something. She was fully aware that if she concluded now he might act contrite, yet she doubted she would see the kind of behavioural change she was determined to bring about. She was fully committed to making her free time enjoyable, and the weekend was not going to be built around him. He would be a background entertainment, an object to refer to when the mood took her, or when she felt like letting off steam. At all others times he was to remain bound, gagged,and most probably hugely agitated, which frankly wasn't her problem.

For him the ensuing two hours crawled by in a miserable cocoon of discomfort. His mouth tasted salty, and his non aroused state was a terrible and seemingly endless thing. The ropes securing him might just as well have been forged from steel, and the layers smothering him felt tight and oppressive. He kept moving his groin, hoping that the grinding against the nylons might awaken his member. This was exhausting, and it took well over ninety minutes before he could muster even the weakest erection. This filled him with real fear because she had demanded a bar of iron, so he continued to rub against the nylon in a humiliating gyration, desperate to ensure that he would meet her unyielding expectations.

The time was 2250 when he heard her feet on the stairs. She slid beneath the duvet and her hand went straight to his groin and moved across his semi erect manhood. He sensed her displeasure at once, yet remained utterly still and compliant. Whatever happened next was out of his hands.

"What am I meant to do with that useless thing? It's good for nothing, all bendy and squishy. Don't you find me desirable when I'm not dancing to your tune?"

He tried to form words through his gag, but the covers were already being drawn back and was reaching for her new ruler. As before, she planted her soft bottom on his face, and proceeded to light his testicles on fire. Second time was even worse sans arousal. Just pain, just white hot stabs of vicious pain that cut through his groin. He screamed into her buttocks but the sound was drowned, and as she continued time just appeared to stand still. After a time he noticed that she had started to grind his face into her thighs, commencing a slow but gradually increasingly rhythmic motion, gaining a steady momentum. The ruler was cast aside and her hands were upon his stomach, and had he been able he would have seen her eyes glaze and her head thrown backwards. She climaxed powerfully, and he could feel those sublime thighs tighten around him, concluding with her literally falling onto him, her cheeks resting against his bound and tormented balls. She took her own good time to recover, and after a time her hands drifted across his groin, her eyes appearing to be inspecting him for signs of damage.

"Reality and fantasy aren't the same thing, are they?" She said almost casually, not even remotely interested in his muffled, barely audible response. It occurred to her that she was still sat on his face, so she shifted, moving to stand and moving towards the rope securing his wrists. The knots were loosened, and for a brief few seconds he dared to hope that she was about to show mercy. Then he felt any free play his previous struggles had created reduced to zero as his wrist was pulled harshly back into the bed. She refastened him, on one side and then the other, before going to the end of the bed and removing any free play there, too. Once done, he was back where had started, taut and stretched, just on the right side of discomfort. Moving to sit at the top of the bed she casually removed two pairs of tights, enabling her to see his eyes, which appeared wide and apprehensive to her. She felt a silent power as they connected, and she could see that his stare was venturing the plea that his lips could not make. She shook her head and brushed a hand over his cheek.

"I'm sleeping downstairs tonight. I've set the room up beautifully. Thick blankets, soft pillows, fragrant candles. I wouldn't normally let you have the bed but on this occasion it's what you need. I removed the tights so you could breath freely, and whilst I don't expect you to get much sleep you might steal a few minutes here and there. Tomorrow is day two. I've got all sorts of lovely things planned. So you're not going to be needed, which means per our arrangement you get to remain here. Oh and don't worry, I'll give you a drink in the morning and fit you with a lovely fresh gag. I suppose I'll need to tighten these ropes a bit but that's just par for the course. Rest easy my darling. Our adventure continues at sunrise. And so ended part one of what would become known as the great corrective measure. I could describe how the night seemed as if it would never end, but it would only be to restate the obvious. Attempts to escape were persistent, and of course entirely fruitless affairs. He tried to push the soaking wet gag out but it never budged,the ropes securing them too deftly administered, beyond any strength he possessed. The only real positive was that despite his impossible predicament his erection gathered strength as the hours passed,and the physical torment was gradually subverted into the first blush of erotic pleasure. He found himself in awe of her, bewildered by the situation he found himself in. The butterflies of desire flickered in his tummy, his hard on persistently trying to breach the constraining tights, and as the hours passed he felt himself switch from tormented captive to contented plaything. He fantasised extravagantly, imaging her in her basque and stockings, looming over his helpless form. He imagined her pleasuring herself as she looked at him, talking to him as if he was no more than a means to end for her. An object. Just a faceless and nameless toy.