"Early again?"
I looked up from my computer to see Laura smiling as she came in the door to the office.
"This is becoming a bad habit for you!"
"No doubt..." I said. "Figured I'd make up for the last three years of coming in late from oversleeping. These new sleep meds work wonders."
And it was the truth. For most of my life I didn't get much sleep at night; most of the sleep I got was accidental - at my desk in class, in front of the TV or even on a park bench. My friends started joking that I was narcoleptic, and I was almost inclined to believe them. The new medicine the doctor put me on did wonders for that, and since I started taking it about 3 months ago, I haven't had a rough night or the usual rougher morning.
I worked through yet another long Friday: Blueprints, specifications and prototypes, the life of an engineer. Thinking about it, it was a wonder I ever got through school with as distracted - or even straight up asleep - as I was through my entire college career. I was lucky to graduate, and even luckier to score a sweet job at a local firm. I finished up the final page of the draft I was working on, and let myself take off 15 minutes early. I figured I'd earned it.
At home, it was more of the usual - email, dinner, a movie and then I settled in for an evening of deep, relaxing sleep.
--
I woke with a start. At first I was groggy - obviously I had woken up while still in a bit of a sedated state. My head cleared quickly when I noticed that I couldn't move. I had heard of sleep paralysis before, and it was even listed as one of the side effects of the medicine I was taking. This was different. I could move slightly, but there was much resistance. I was also on my stomach, in an extremely strange position - I never slept on my stomach. As my head cleared further, I managed to get a better grip on my situation and notice that my situation had a firm grip on me as well.
My heart was pounding. I was stomach-down on a firm surface. I couldn't quite determine why, but I was sure the surface was elevated from the ground. My arms were bound tightly at my sides, my legs bound down, straight, and with my feet slightly more than shoulder-width apart. My head was on a firm pillow, elevated slightly, and held in place with some sort of leather band around my forehead. Whoever bound me here must not want me looking around and possibly getting a look at their face. But why not just cover their face? Why not blindfold me?
Figuring that my captor must be near by, I spoke - only to find that I could make no noise. It was then that I noticed the fullness in my mouth - a firm rubber object was very securely fastened in place; large enough to fill my mouth, reaching almost to my throat.
I was in a dark room, bound to a table, gagged and... cold? My heart stopped. The chill over my skin was brought to my focus - I was naked. I was in a dark room, bound to a table, gagged and NAKED. Was I... about to be raped? I started really pulling at my bindings now, but there was no use.
I heard a faint noise, the sound of electronics. In front of me, immediately in the center of my vision a laptop computer was booting. Before now, the room was pitch black and silent. The new light from the laptop's display afforded me a look around the room. As my eyes adjusted to the new light, I began to recognize my surroundings. I was in a workshop, but not any workshop - my own workshop, attached to the side of my home. And the laptop that so kindly lit my surroundings was my laptop. Something very wrong was happening and I struggled now as hard mentally as I had physically just moments earlier.
As the laptop finished booting, I expected a video of the puppet from Saw to narrate my sins to me and foretell my fate. Maybe I had seen too many movies, but then again, I was in my own garage, bound to a table, gagged and naked, and I didn't know how I got here. Ask anyone - that's pretty far from normal.
My media player opened full screen and my heart skipped a beat. However, the demented puppet never came. Instead, the video was an ordinary and fairly innocuous porn - two gorgeous redheads entered the scene and began teasing each other. Since it was obvious that I was going to be here for a while, I took advantage of my captor's kindness and used the porn to, well, take my mind off of things.
As I began to relax, as much as one can when they're in my situation, I noticed yet another aspect of my bindings. My cock was hanging through a hole in the table to which I was bound. Not only that, it seemed to be captive in its own rather snug enclosure. As I paid more attention to the video and less to my situation, my dick began to harden and fill the sleeve that covered it. I very nearly forgot about my dire situation when I heard an electrical relay click, and the sleeve over my cock began moving.
I panicked. Was this machine about to pull my dick off? I froze in place, though considering my situation it would have difficult to do anything but, and waited for the mechanical grip of a penis-ripper-offer.
Instead, the sleeve merely slid over my member, reciprocating slowly back and forth. Given the circumstances, it was a rather pleasant experience. I relaxed again, and let the machine stroke me while I watched two beautiful women grind each other to orgasm after orgasm. It was only a couple minutes later that I joined them - my body tensing as the machine milked a full load of cum out of my quivering cock.
As if it knew I was finished, the machine slowed to a stop. The video paused, and my fear returned. What was going to happen now? Was this one last kindness before I was brutally murdered? I waited for the worst.
I waited for footsteps, I waited for heavy breathing, for the grating of a butcher knife over a sharpening hone, for the cocking of a gun. Nothing of that sort came. In fact, nothing at all came. I was back in a silent room, bound to a table... well, you know the situation.
I began to look around, harder this time. I looked for anything that might have been out of place, other that me. I noticed some blueprints on the floor, at the very edge of my field of view. They seemed to detail the construction of the table I was now part of. The plans didn't look familiar, but something about them did. I couldn't place it.
I was straining to see any other detail of the room when I was startled by a loud noise. The shrieking of a woman in ecstasy filled the room, and drew my attention back to the laptop. The video had started playing again, and like clockwork the machine once again began stroking my cock. I wasn't in the mood for a repeat performance, but the machine was insistent. As my dick again filled the sleeve, I began to see the method to this machine's madness. It was programmed to stroke me to orgasm and then wait a certain amount of time before doing it again.
This means that whoever put me here didn't need to be in the room, or even in the same zip code. There was nobody in the room but me. Nobody to kill me when I least expect it. Nobody to rape me. Nobody to let me out of these bindings.
The realization hit me, and fear washed over me again. How long would I be strapped to this stupid thing? Was I going to be here forever? My mind reeled with the thought of spending the rest of my days bound to a machine that didn't think, didn't reason, didn't care - all it wanted was to grind on my cock until I died. I had dumped girlfriends for that same reason.
My thoughts were cut short when I felt a sharp sting across my ass. This machine had more tricks up its sleeve, and I was none too happy about this one.
CRACK!
Again, my ass exploded with pain. My focus shifted to the laptop again, where the video had changed to a rougher scene with a man spanking a woman while fucking her from behind.
CRACK!
A paddle attached to the machine was blazing across my ass every few seconds. I winced each time I heard the relay click to activate it, and lost my breath each time it landed a hit. Maybe this wouldn't be so pleasurable. The pain occupied so much of my conscious thought that I didn't notice that the stroker had increased its pace.
CRACK!
I had been on the machine a lot longer this time - clearly it was not set to operate a specific amount of time. I wondered if the length of each 'session' would increase each time, or if there was some other trigger that would make it stop. I remembered how quickly it had shut off after my last orgasm, and decided to give it a try.
CRACK!
I focused on the video and attempted to thrust with my pelvis against the table. I wanted to fuck this machine into stopping, but clearly it was in control. The best I could do was to get into it and end it as quick as possible. I started shaking, my muscles tensed, and as the paddle hit me one more time...
CRACK!
I came. I came hard. As I expected, the machine powered down and slowed to a stop. The video on the laptop paused as the man landed a hard slap on her ass. I looked at how red - almost purple - that poor woman's ass was, and I imagined that mine didn't look much better. The hand of a machine is much less forgiving than that of a man. I was tired at this point. So tired that I passed out.
--
CRACK!
I would have jumped out of my skin had the leather straps not been holding me so tightly. The machine woke me with a slap on the ass as the stroker began pumping again and the video started playing again. I don't know how long I was out, but the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon as evidenced by the little bit of additional light in the room.
