The Gimp

He said he was going to bring a pet, but he didn't say what. I normally wouldn't like my friends bringing pets to my parties, but he assured me it would be no trouble.

The party was quite busy when I heard his van arrive. It was dark, so I couldn't see clearly, but I saw him getting something out of the back. And it was big - perhaps a Doberman or Alsatian on a lead.

I heard the doorbell ring, and I knew it was John with his pet. I opened the door, and he said, "Hi Charlie, hope you don't mind me bringing my pet Gimp with me."

He walked in, pulling a lead, on the end of which was the... creature. It would be easy to say that it was just a guy dressed head to foot in a rubber suit. It must have been that, but what a suit!

I could see no human flesh at all. Every inch of him was shiny smooth black rubber. He sat squat on his haunches, with all four limbs on the floor. Each limb ended in what I guess you'd call a hoof, with a round base and no fingers or toes I could see. His head looked nothing like a human head. His eyes were one of the few breaks from the smooth rubber surface - they had black plastic or glass panels, which may have let him see out, but prevented anyone from seeing anything of him. And where is mouth might have been, there was a short thin tube which I guess would enable him to breath and drink. As far as I could see, his body was otherwise smooth and featureless. Even though I know it must have been a person inside the suit, the lack of any facial expression or even eye movement made it easy to take him for some other sort of creature entirely.

John walked towards a group of people, and as he pulled the lead, the rubber creature followed behind him, moving his four limbs more like a dog than a person. John announced, "Hello, everyone, I'd like you to meet my pet Gimp. He's quite friendly, although he's not very used to crowds yet - this is his first time out." He bent over to the Gimp and unclipped the lead from the chain around his neck, saying, "Go on, boy, go meet the nice people."

The Gimp walked around the group, in and out between people. He seemed to sniff some of their crotches and some of their arses. Most people didn't know what to make of it. We all knew that John was into some strange things, but we'd not seen anything like that before. Some people patted the Gimp like he was a dog. Some carefully touched his rubber like they'd not seen it before, which perhaps they hadn't.

I got a drink for John, and said, "Should I get anything for... him... err, for your pet... err, your Gimp? Is it a he-Gimp or a she-Gimp?"

He thought. "I'm not sure, I don't think Gimps have a gender - you can see it doesn't have any genitals. Could you get a bowl of water for him - I mean for it?"

I got the bowl of water, and took it to John, but by then the Gimp had wandered off somewhere.

"No problem," he said, "Gimps have hearing like dogs." He took a whistle from his pocket and blew into it, but I couldn't hear anything. But the Gimp came running in to John.

"There you go, boy, have a good drink." The Gimp put his mouth tube into the bowl, and the water level went down.

I said to John, "So it is a boy, then?"

"That's just a term of affection - I have to call it something."

"So who's the boy inside the boy?"

"Ah, tonight he's just enjoying being a Gimp."

The Gimp looked up at John, and underneath all that rubber I'm sure he was smiling.

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The night drew on, and people got used to having a pet around the party.

John relaxed, and I got to know the real story. A friend was staying with John for a week. The guy, Dave, was a big fan of rubber and bondage, and had a fantasy about being in full rubber gear in a place where no-one knew him, or had ever seen him out of his rubber gear. It seemed to be working - the people at the party were just treating him like a pet now, because they hadn't seen him any other way.

I even found out how the whistle worked. The Gimp didn't really have dog hearing, it was just a trick. As John was holding the whistle with one hand, the other was in his pocket pressing a button on the remote control for a vibrator, which the Gimp would feel as a signal for him to find his Master. I didn't ask where the vibrator was about the Gimp's body, but I could guess.

I walked over to where the Gimp was, and noticed that along his back he did have a small ridge breaking the otherwise smooth surface. It was a zip, and at the back of his neck, under the chain, was a small box with a keyhole - it must be where the zip runners were locked together, stopping him escaping from the suit.

At that moment I thought, what if this guy wasn't into this stuff at all? What if he was being kept trapped inside this suit against his will? I knelt down, looked into his black eyes, and said, "Are you okay in there?"

He stared back with a blank expression. But that was the only expression he had - with no visible eyes or mouth, there was no way of knowing what he was thinking.

I said, "Is there anything you want?"

He stared for a moment, then put his front limbs around my leg. I stood, and he moved forward to hug my leg. Then he started moving up and down - he was humping it!

But, after a short while, he stopped, curled up into a ball, and made a quiet groaning sound, his front hooves clutching at his groin.

John came over and smiled at him. "Did he try to hump your leg or something? He should know better than to try that." John leaned over to me and whispered, "Ring of spikes around his cock stop him getting hard."

The Gimp seemed to have recovered - he went over to sit beside his Master, who stroked his head.

Then I realised, all night this guy had not just been dressed as a pet, he had been acting as one too. There's no way he would have played the part so well unless he was a willing participant in the game.

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"Ah, that's better, at last I can move my jaw!"

My mouth had been aching for the last few hours of the party, having had a gag secured tight into it all night. I hardly dared to open my eyes. They had got so used to staring through the dark shaded eyepieces, now that the hood was off even the weakest light would be blinding.

John said, "So, did you enjoy it then? Was it all you expected?"

I replied, "Oh, yes, it was fantastic! It really felt like I was just a pet, and the others seemed to treat me like it too."

I went to rub my head, but I just bashed it with the hoof still at the end of my arm. I said, "It was really important that I couldn't speak or pick things up, too."

John unzipped the rest of my outer suit. "So two layers of rubber wasn't too much then?"

"No rubber is ever too much! I've got used to treating my main suit like my skin now, so it wasn't much harder dealing with another on top. It did get quite hot though."

John peeled down the top half of my Gimp suit, to leave only the full body rubber suit I had been wearing all weekend so far. It was relative luxury compared to the Gimp suit, since it had proper eye and mouth holes, and separate fingers on the gloves.

At last I uncurled my fingers from the handles inside the Gimp suit's hooves, and John peeled the suit's arms down mine.

He asked, "Did you piss in the suit?"

"No, but I could do with one now."

My main suit kept my cock in a sheath, which had a crotch cover zipped over it. The drainage tube of the sheath came out of the top of the crotch cover, but if I'd pissed in the Gimp suit it would have just filled the inside of the suit.

I stood up and flexed my fingers as John pulled the rest of the Gimp suit off me. I felt relatively free, now being in only one rubber suit.

I had made an arrangement with John before I arrived - for the whole of the weekend, as well as all week and all next weekend, I would remain locked into this suit. The main access zip, arse zip and codpiece zip were all locked up by John, and the main zip would stay locked for at least another week, whatever else we did. But John had his rules, too. I wasn't allowed to cum for 2 weeks before we met, and once he locked the suit onto me, he also locked a ring of spikes around my cock, which was normally okay but got very painful if I got hard.

After I'd gone for a piss, John said, "It's late, so we'd better go to bed. You're in the cage tonight."

We went to his bedroom, where at the foot of his bed he had a cage, just big enough to lie in curled up. He unlocked the door at one end.

I said, "You know, that vibrating buttplug is still up my arse."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"No, just quite filling."

He smiled. "Then you can enjoy being filled all night! I might even turn it on by remote control a few times."

He put a pair of handcuffs onto my wrists behind my back, then helped me crawl into the cage before locking the door. He said, "There's only one more thing I need, and that's a good sucking!" as he unzipped his jeans.

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John had told me it would do the shop some good, and it certainly had. Wednesdays were usually quiet, but I'm sure people who'd been in had told their friends to come in too. Of course, most of them didn't realise what they were looking at. They would come into my fetish shop, and once they'd passed the rubber and leather catsuits by the door, there eyes would fall on the rack in the middle of the store.

Most of my regulars would be used to seeing the rack there, but usually empty. Today, they saw the mannequin strapped down to the rack, in full body rubber gear.

When they asked, I told them that most mannequins weren't flexible enough to be posed on the rack, but someone had leant me a particularly flexible one. Technically all this was true, and most of the customers believed it. But some of the more astute ones noticed the mannequin's chest moving up and down slightly, and a small amount of water vapour misting up the inside of the eyes of the gasmask it was wearing. Then they would touch it, and might feel the rubber a little warmer than it should be, and if they touched it in a sensitive area, they would see the mannequin reacting.

Then they asked me, and I had to admit that it was actually a rubber bondage fan who had been put there on show all day by his friend, and that he had been strapped down on the rack at 10am, and would not be released until 6pm. It was surprising how many people asked if I was planning to do it again, and if so did I need a volunteer to be tied up.

Mid-afternoon, once the shop was empty, I went over to check on Dave. I loosened the straps on his gasmask, pulled it off his face, then unbuckled and removed his gag. He moved his jaw, stretching the stagnant muscles.

I asked, "How are you doing in there?"

He croaked, "Okay."

"Do you want a drink?"

He nodded, so I put the straw of a drinking bottle up to his mouth. He sucked hard on it.

I asked, "How are your muscles doing?"

"It's quite a strain," he said, "but it's not too bad."

I rattled a bunch of keys. "I think you're due for another stretching then!"

I unlocked the padlock on the rack's winching mechanism. I pushed the wheel around by one notch, which pulled the ropes attached to his hands by about half an inch. It was not much, but he was very far stretched already, so he cried out. I asked, "How's that feel."

"Painful... but it will... be okay... when I get... used to it."

I could see the strain on his face, having to put up with his limbs being pulled apart. "You can always give up, you know, but once you've failed, then you've failed."

"No, I'll... carry on. How much... longer is it?"

"You know I'm not allowed to answer that. You'll be released when John comes for you, and not before."

I tried to imagine what it must be like for him stretched inside his rubber prison. "You must be feeling very horny in there."

He smiled through the strain. "Yes... I am..."

I put my hand on his crotch pouch, and felt a hard bulge inside it. I said, "Bet you'd love to cum now," as I squeezed the bulge.

He grimaced, and said, "Yes love to... but spikes in cock... very painful."

John had told me about that, but I'd forgotten. Getting hard on the rack, then getting the pain from the spiked ring, must be doubly difficult to endure - I don't know how he managed.

I gagged him and gasmasked him, and left him to enjoy himself, modelling for the next customer.

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He'd been a good boy, and it had been a good week.

When he first told me he wanted to be kept locked in a rubber suit all week, I didn't think he'd make it. I've known other guys fantasise about doing that, but after three or four days, the novelty wears off and practical problems set in, and they want out. But Dave has kept wanting more, not less. He even managed all day on the rack in the fetish shop. For the last few days of the week he was butt-plugged almost all the time. I experimented with bondage positions on him at one time, and he managed to stay in what looked like quite a painful strict hogtie position for nearly three hours before giving up.

For his last day, he deserved a treat, and he was going to get one.

I opened the back of the van, to find him just where I left him, lying on the floor of the van, rubber suited as usual, arms and legs tied down to the corners. I untied his hands, saying, "We're here!" He untied his feet, and we left the van to walk into the house. It's just as well the house was in its own private land, since the sight of a man in full rubber might have alarmed the neighbours.

Dave had no idea where we were, or why, but this was the house of an old friend of mine, who was into similar hobbies to mine. He also had a friend into similar things to Dave, so we thought we should get them together. "You're not the only Gimp, you know," I said as I rang the doorbell. "My friend Stephen has one too."

His face lit up. "Ah, will I get to meet him?"

"Oh yes, you'll meet it, and get to know it quite well!"

Stephen opened the door, and showed us into a room. He said, "You can prepare yourselves here."

I opened up a bag of toys, most of which Dave would recognise from the last week. I found a single arm binder, and turned Dave around so I could strap it onto him. Soon both his rubber clad hands were poking out of the bottom of a tight leather tube enclosing his arms. I tightened some straps around his shoulders to stop it slipping down, then tightened the rear lacing again.

I pulled out a bunch of keys, and waived a few small ones in front of him, saying, "This is what you've been looking forward to!"

I unlocked the zip of the crotch cover, and pulled it down. His rubber sheathed cock fell down, already quite hard but still ringed with spikes. I rubbed the head of his cock sheath, and said, "How has it been, having to endure such pain every time you got hard?"

He said, "Very painful and frustrating, Sir," but I could see he was speaking despite the pain in his cock he was feeling right then.

"Would you like to be free of it?"

"Oh, yes please, Sir!"

I put one of the small keys into a hole in the ring of spikes, and it clicked open and fell away.

Dave cried, "Ah, free!"

I said, "This is why I secured your hands first, to keep you from temptation."

I went back to the toy bag and pulled out a leather hood, which had a large rubber bung to fill his mouth. I laced it up tight at the back, to push the bung hard into his mouth. It had eye holes, but they were small and pointed directly forward, giving him tunnel vision. The hood had a number of D-rings around the collar - I clipped a lead to the centre ring and pulled him along.

I found a radiator, pushed Dave down to his knees, tied the lead to the radiator pipes, and said, "Don't go away, I'll be back in a moment."

I had only stepped into the corridor when I met Stephen. He said, "My Gimp is ready. How about yours?"

I replied, "Mine too, I'll bring him over."

I went to get Dave, and dragged him by his lead to another room. Dave found it a little tricky walking when he didn't have his arms in the usual place, but he had had opportunities before to get used to it.

There we saw Stephen's Gimp. It was dressed completely in shiny black rubber, no flesh visible anywhere, strapped down to a small frame. It was lying on its stomach on top of the frame, but with its legs bent and strapped to the sides of the frame it was lying on. Its hands were crossed behind it, each hand touching the opposite elbow, but wrapped up so that no details such as fingers were visible.

As with all Gimps, it had a severe hood on. This one only had small nose holes - there were no eye or mouth details at all, although I'm sure there was a gag inside it. I could hear a quiet buzzing sound, and I looked to Stephen. He said, "Just to keep it amused."

I pulled Dave forwards so he was standing behind the strapped up Gimp, and tied his lead to the other Gimp's bound arms, to stop the two moving apart.

I said to Stephen, "Would you like to do the honours then?" Stephen picked up a jar of lubricant, then walked over to his Gimp. He unzipped its arse, and liberally spread the lube over the bare flesh.

He stepped back to sit in one of a pair of armchairs a few feet from the Gimp couple, then gestured for me to sit in the other. I sat, then shouted, "Well, boy? Go for it!"

We watched as Dave assessed his situation, then experiment with carefully prodding the other Gimp's arse with his own sheathed cock. He pushed his cock in, and I heard a low moan from the other Gimp.

Stephen got up to pour us both a sherry, and we sipped it as we watched this gyrating mass of rubber, leather, bondage, and, somewhere inside it all, two humans.

After a time, Dave worked out his rhythm, and how best to pull against the lead to give the best thrust into the helpless Gimp. Despite them both being gagged, I could hear both of them moaning and groaning as their two bodies worked into and out of each other.

Within ten minutes, Dave let out a great long grunt, as he trust hard and made the other Gimp cry out. Then Dave fell slack, lying down on the other Gimp's back, exhausted, spent. I pulled him up, untied his lead, and took him back into the other room.

I unlaced his hood and pulled it off, and then I unlocked his suit zip and pulled his rubber hood forward. For the first time in over a week, I saw his face and he felt fresh air on it.

Exhausted, he said, "Wow, that was an incredible end to an amazing week. I've never cum so hard!"

As I unlaced his arm binder, he talked about the experience, and about all the other things that had happened to him over the week.

He said, "So who was that other Gimp I fucked? I don't even know if it was a man or a woman."

I smiled. "It's neither, it's just a Gimp!"