The internet can be a dangerous place; a double edged sword of epic proportions to those that seek captivity.

I seek out the cybers. Those who others ignore; Those who have immersed themselves in the fantasy yet never tasted the reality; Those that are too scared yet would give just about anything in hopes of making their dreams come true.
 

They are easy to find, and message me all the time. After reading my stories they blur the edges of safe and sane in order to get what their Dick craves. I am always happy to offer them a safe pathway into my inner sanctum.
 

Ahead lays the story of one of these boys. His restraints tethered to the table on either side of the keyboard. He has been given a set timeframe in order to write 3 chapters; the clock ticking away next to him. Failure is not an option, but an open door to a personal training session with me…
 

* * * * * * * * * * * *
 

I have been instructed to write, yet I don’t even know where to begin. This is the third time I have been given the opportunity to tell my story. The past two attempts were my failures, as Sir advised me. This infernal clocks ticks way next to me now and I shall not fail him again.
 

I answer to boy 23. Once long ago I was known as mikey, and although it has been over two years since I have been called so, I am not sure I would ask anyone for salvation from my torment.
 

We are never asked nor encouraged to hand over our identities. We make that choice on our own volition when we are ready; at the point that we wish to be his, forever. The day I handed Sir my name is the first time I can remember him truly pleased in me.
 

His Pleasure is akin to glory; his wrath is that of the beast.
 

Twice I have been given the opportunity to write this, and twice I have failed. I cannot remember much of those trips down to the room with the black metal door, but each time I come back with a new tick branded on my shoulder-blade. We are only allowed ten tics against us, I have seven. Not much is known of those who have failed Sir’s expectations enough to reach ten.
 

The thought of this brings my mind back to the infernal clock ticking away off my right side; I must continue, I must not fail.
 

The last thing I remember of my beforelife I was 18. I have a good job, a great place to live, and a cat that thought the sun rose and set on my lap. I definitely could say that I had things going for me, especially at my young age.
 

Although I always knew that something was missing, ever since I was thirteen I had had these interests. The feel of rubber, the smell of leather, the feeling of semi-confinement when I tether myself to the bed. But who could I tell? How could you relate something like that that is such a piece of you, and hope that someone else can understand the sheer intensity that these feelings bring out in you?
 

I knew there were bars out there, and I had made attempts to reach out to them only to find the type of leather daddies with the harness covering a beer gut, that made me chuckle rather than quake. I was looking for more than just a ball waxing… Much more.
 

So I decided that the internet was the way to go, I could cruse out there anonymously, and if things got to scary, I’d just stop typing as I had done on so many other occasions. It was on that one night, in June I think, as I was sorting through the mess of twinks, tweakers, jokers, and otherwise other general wastes of a good hard on when I met Him.
 

He was logged into one of those old IRC chatrooms, “#Gayrubber”. Heh, even with the long since death of the IRC chat scene I still remember that. In fact every detail of what I am about to relay shall be burned into my memory forever, for it was the beginning of my descent into the depths of my desires.
He was logged in under the nick of “Dr. Laytex”. I thought it was a stupid name at the time and ignored his general posts until a private window opened from him. Since I was in a feisty mood I decided to play along.
 

“You like rubber bondage boy?” The mysterious message said.
 

“Of course I do,” I replied snidely “Why else would I be in this room?”
 

“What are your limits boy?” The message came back completely ignoring the bate I had just lain before him.
 

“None,” I replied “I like to be taken where ever the rollercoaster is headed” I typed back, not willing to tell this guy that that I had never done much more than jerked off all over a pair of rubber boots I had purchased at Goodwill for $2.99.
 

“I like your attitude boy.”
 

“Thank you.”
 

“I think I could have some fun with you. Why don’t you meet me after work tonight, I get off at 10pm. I work at Clark Street Hospital, do you know where that is boy?”
 

I hesitated a bit…. Clark Street Hospital was only 3 blocks away. Was this guy serious? I had been looking for some real rubber play for a bit, but this was way too close to home to be comfortable. “Um, I am not sure I can make it… My car is in the shop right now.”
 

“Yes, they usually are. I am offering you rubber bondage, I believe that’s what your profile says you are looking for, or am I wrong?”
 

“No, no your not wrong” I typed back not sure what to say.
 

“I am offering an experience for you that will exceed your expectations. I work as a Doctor at the hospital, if you need any references…”
 

“No,” I replied back intrigued. “No, I believe you.”
 

“Good, you will show up at 10pm. Head to the south end of the Hospital. Once there, you will notice a high wall completely covered in Ivy. If you are to look closely through the Ivy, you will find a gate. I shall leave the key in the third flowerpot from the end of the wall. Once through the gate, take the door immediately to your left, you will find further instructions there. Don’t bring any gear, we have more than enough.”
 

“But how will I recognize you?” I waited, there was no response. I was unsure of what to do; I was not familiar with any used area on the south end of that hospital, only the run down portion of the old wing that was closed down years ago because it was deemed unsafe. Many questions were going through my mind……Why did he wish to meet there? Could I trust him?
 

…And what did he mean by WE?