Two Masters

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-24

It all happened completely by chance. It was a Friday night at a leather club in the city center. I saw two guys I didn't know very well, two very sexy guys. I was about 25 years old, had only recently arrived in the city, didn't have many friends, and rarely socialized. That night I was dressed casually: skinny jeans, a button-down Taylor belt, a white crew-neck t-shirt, white cotton socks, and a well-fitting leather jacket. Our eyes met, we exchanged a few glances, and then we moved closer. We talked quietly for a while, and they gestured for me to come closer, which I did without hesitation. They were both slightly older than me, tall, with dark hair and unforgettable, attractive looks, wearing black leather jackets and twill clothing. They introduced themselves: one was Bo, and the other was Kim. Bo was a lawyer, and Kim was a freelance programmer who designed and created websites. Bo had a short, military-style haircut. I really liked it; my charming boss had the same hairstyle. Bo asked me to touch his head, and I was a little embarrassed, but I did it anyway. Kim said I would look good if I had Bo's hairstyle too. I had never thought about getting that hairstyle, but I immediately accepted Kim's suggestion and told him I would get it done next week whenever I had time. Standing between the two of them, feeling Bo's stubble, I felt a little threatened, but I was immediately overwhelmed by a stronger sexual urge, which they clearly sensed as well. As we became more familiar with each other, we moved from verbal conversation to physical contact. They touched my body with their hands and ordered me to stand at attention. Our casual conversation turned into a formal meeting, and they asked me all the questions they wanted to ask. They asked if I had ever been bondage. Just that question made my penis hard, and I answered yes, and more than once, and that I enjoyed bondage. They told me that they were both "masters" and had rather strong tastes in bondage and discipline, and that they were looking for a new "slave boy." I didn't know how I should react to their words. The relationship between "master" and "slave" was a completely new concept to me. They went on to tell me about their many long-term "slaves" and how they felt I had potential and met their requirements: cute, short, with a well-proportioned body, a "boy" who could be easily dominated physically, and likely to also possess the psychological qualities of a slave, able to find satisfaction and pleasure in the game of discipline. They were pleased that I had experience with bondage. During the meeting, I described in detail my previous experiences of being bound and my fantasies about bondage, and then I answered their fascinating and provocative questions: Were I ever left alone at home, inescapably bound all night? What was the longest period of bondage I had ever endured? Was I ever gagged? Were I ever tied up and locked in a cage to sleep? During our conversation, the topics of bondage and "slave boys" overshadowed everything else. I was somewhat skeptical of the reality of their actions, somewhat afraid to put myself in it, but at the same time, I grew increasingly excited, my heart pounding, desperately wanting to play with my own penis. Ultimately, I convinced them I could endure whatever they wanted, without even seriously considering the practical implications. I heard myself telling them I had no plans for the weekend and didn't need to return to the city before Monday; I longed to spend the weekend with them at their suburban home. They laid out some basic requirements and repeatedly emphasized the importance of obedience: bondage, usually very severe, of their choice; they believed there were no limits, that they would determine the degree of my training based on my body's reactions; complete and unquestionable obedience; and that speaking and talking were forbidden except when they demanded it. If I felt I couldn't bear it this weekend, I would have the opportunity to leave. I would no longer be able to teach them names, but instead be addressed as "Master." Leaving the club, I quietly followed them into their caravan. Their bodies seemed to have a hypnotic effect on me, and their serious demeanor and their description of the rules equally mesmerized me. The desire to talk to them was overwhelmed by the desire to obey the rules and remain silent. My penis was stiff as an iron rod in my underwear. After we were all inside their dimly lit caravan, they stripped me naked and made me kneel on what looked like a thick blanket—a sleeping bag. It felt rough, like it had been simply finished. They handcuffed my hands behind my back and tied my ankles tightly with rope. During this process, I struggled to keep my body compliant and upright. Bo pressed my head down forcefully and then fixed a gag with a built-in rubber ball gag in my head. I will always remember those exciting scenes: naked, helplessly bound, forced to open my mouth wide, a rubber gag in my mouth, two authoritative and charming men I didn't even know very well, controlling my body. My penis was so hard it was almost painful. It swelled to its limit in my underwear, pressing against my abdomen. The two masters (2) remained kneeling, my hands cuffed behind my back, my feet bound together, and I rested my buttocks on my thighs until Bo asked me to kneel up ("kneeling at attention"). Then he forcefully pressed my penis down, almost pressing it between my legs, and then suddenly released it, watching it quickly spring back to my abdomen. Jin gently probed my penis with his middle finger, watching it sway from side to side. They looked at each other, smiled smugly, and then took turns playing with my genitals in this way until I made a gurgling sound from my gagged mouth, a natural reaction that warned them that I was about to ejaculate. Bo then went behind me to the back of the car, and Jin explained to me that I could not ejaculate without their explicit permission. Bo walked back to me, wearing a leather protective garment with some metal fasteners for reinforcement. Jin pressed my penis down to a specific position, and Bo fastened the leather garment between my waist and legs. Inside the leather harness was a row of metal rings that looped around my penis, keeping it in a downward position. Bo tightened all the straps on the harness. Jin simultaneously put a leather hood over my already-wearing mask, leaving only a small hole for breathing through my nose. I could no longer see. They helped me lie face down, stretched out, in the sleeping bag. While one of them drove, the other wrapped me in the sleeping bag from the neck down. I could feel ropes binding my feet, knees, waist, and chest from the outside. Then I felt the top of the sleeping bag cover my head, and I was turned over, completely sealed inside. The thought of the spherical gag on my head, the leather hood, and the sleeping bag made me feel suffocated. I involuntarily began to writhe and groan in pain. Then I heard a deep voice telling me to be quiet, to reduce my movement, and that I had enough air to breathe. Slowly, I began to calm down. He was right; as long as I slowed my breathing, the suffocation disappeared. A moment later, I was flipped over again, and more ropes secured me completely to the carriage floor. I estimated the journey took about an hour. For most of that hour, I felt somewhat disoriented, but the intense sexual desire arose from the bondage was real. In fact, I was completely trapped in the tight bindings. I vividly remember wishing my penis would soften, to relieve the pain of the erection imprisoned in leather. The train stopped, and I felt Bo and Kim untie me from the floor, carrying me, sleeping bag and all, into the house. We went up a flight of stairs, placed me on something, and then secured me face down to it. In retrospect, they had used a leather strap to secure me to a military canvas bed. They left me on the bed (most likely alone), and after a while, wanting to see how much room I had, I began to contract and wriggle. Clearly, escape from this confinement was impossible; this wasn't part of my original plan. My shoulders started to ache, and my struggles made me feel very hot in the sleeping bag. I can still remember the pain in my penis (which remained erect inside the leather cover); I began to worry that I had put myself in a much more difficult situation than I could handle, and how much longer I would have to stay in that sleeping bag, feeling almost unbearable.I breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know how much time passed before I felt my legs being released, and then the rest of my body. When they finally freed me from my sleeping bag and removed my hood, I noticed their movements and coordination were incredibly practiced. I was in a cellar, filled with all sorts of binding and restraint equipment. I remember feeling a sudden chill, a mixture of excitement and apprehension. They loosened the restraints used during transport and replaced them with another set: a leather collar, a leather mask with a large faceplate and an oval-shaped mouthguard in the center to keep my mouth open; small leather gauntlets; a set of leather straps that held my hands behind my back, suspending them high and connecting them to the D-rings on the collar; and solidly attached leg shackles that kept my feet 18 inches apart. Although the leather mask partially obstructed my vision, I could still see my body with effort. Freed from the leather restraints, my large, red penis once again came into view, the marks left by the metal rings still clearly visible. My mouth wasn't gagged, but I remained silent, as they had previously stated to me. At their command, I staggered between two benches and knelt. They had already undressed while I was being helped onto the cot. They were both wearing only black knee-high leather boots and leather trousers, their chests and genitals exposed. Before I could fully adjust to this new form of bondage and properly admire their hot bodies, they began giving orders: first kneeling at attention, then bending forward. Kim sat in front of me, controlling my head through a D-ring on my collar, and made me perform oral sex on him. He criticized my technique, so Bo, sitting behind me, ordered me to raise my buttocks and slap them with a leather paddle. They switched positions several times. I forced my tongue out of the mask's opening, but the denture restricted my mouth's movement, making it difficult to perform my task properly, especially with Bo's particularly thick penis. Kim adjusted the mask's tightness so my mouth could open wider. Finally, they were all satisfied, but they warned me I had to improve my skills. Still kneeling, I was ordered to kneel and stand at attention. Kim turned me around so I was facing a large mirror on the wall. Bo came in front of me, holding a black rubber gag that looked like an anal plug, cone-shaped, wide at the base, and connected to a leather strap. At his instruction, I opened my mouth as wide as possible. He slowly inserted the tip of the gag into the mask, and once it was fully inserted, he tied the leather strap to the mask and tightened the strap behind my head. In my memory, this was the most effective way to gag me; my mouth was completely filled, with a narrow passage in the middle of the gag that allowed me to breathe normally through my mouth. They put nipple clamps on me, then used a leather strap to tighten the base of my penis and separate my testicles, then hung a weight on them to make my penis straight forward instead of pressed tightly against my abdomen. Kim clamped some clamps on my penis, and then Bo squatted in front of me and whipped the inside of my thighs with a small leather whip. Kim, squatting on the other side, told me I could ejaculate while Bo stimulated my penis, and that I was more sexy than I imagined; I might become a perfect "slave," a slave to my own genitals. Bo joined the conversation. They told me I could see a true self in the mirror, a born slave, needing their bondage, gags, humiliation, and imprisonment. They told me my penis was a "slave's penis," existing solely for their use, and it would be trained to ejaculate only on their command. After a while, some clamps began to loosen, increasing my sensitivity. I began to writhe, moan, and twist my hands behind my back, which also increased the pressure of the collar on my neck. Kim held me so I wouldn't fall, and then I experienced the most painful yet most exhilarating orgasm. Uncontrollably, convulsing, I ejaculated everywhere. For several minutes after the orgasm, I was practically unconscious. When I regained consciousness, they dragged me to the bathroom. They removed the nipple clamps and the restraints on my penis, but the other bindings remained. They made me stand by the urinal and urinate, which I managed to do after several attempts. Bo tried to put my semi-erect penis into a birdcage; I recognized it as a chastity device, but my penis was too swollen again, so he stopped and replaced it with another type of chastity belt, like a handcuff attached to a metal tube. My penis began to harden but wasn't completely unresponsive, so he could lubricate it and insert it into the metal tube. When Jin took out a medium-sized anal plug and placed it in front of me, asking if I wanted to clean myself first, I nodded shyly. They used a fast-acting enema and then watched with interest as I expelled the filth from my body, then washed me thoroughly with soap and water. Their service made me feel even more embarrassed. They made me kneel down and stick my buttocks out. Having just ejaculated, I found it difficult to adjust to the intrusion of the anal plug. They were patient, slowly inserting it completely, leaving only the bottom protruding. They helped me stand upright, fully locking the chastity belt, explaining that this device was called a "penis cuff," with the strap at the bottom pressing against the anal plug to prevent it from slipping out. With their help, I staggered out of the bathroom and into a steel cage, where they began my "sleep time." The headgear and gag remained in place, but the handcuffs and arm restraints were removed, and they dressed me in a leather shackle. My hands were crossed in front of me, and my forearms were bound together. The shackle felt comfortable, warm but not too hot. Bo skillfully used the straps on the shackle, securing them securely everywhere, especially my groin. Jin removed the solid shackles and replaced them with leather leg irons. After they helped me move from side to side into the cage, they struck a particular pose, then closed and tightened the cage door, telling me it was time to sleep. I watched them leave, heard them go upstairs, and then all the lights were turned off. (To be continued) A sponge mat was laid on the floor of the cage, with a small pillow. Exhausted, I couldn't think about anything at the moment and quickly fell asleep. I dreamt that I was bound and unable to move my hands. Suddenly, I woke up in a cold sweat, and I realized that everything in the dream was real. I began to think, to question my judgment. Was Kim and Bo right? Was I a born slave? What did I really want, to be abandoned alone, wearing a mask, a gag, and a shackle, locked in a cage in a cellar by strangers? My penis was still so hard, showing no sign of softening, pressed tightly against the metal tube of the chastity belt, erect within its permitted range. Trying to concentrate, I swallowed hard; the tight mask and the large gag made my teeth and mouth ache; my sphincter muscles rhythmically clenched the anal plug uncontrollably; my hands felt like they no longer belonged to me, covered in sweat. I felt very hot and uncomfortable; my entire body was soaked through inside the restraints. Yet, despite this unbearable discomfort, my penis was still struggling to grow larger, making me feel as if the glans was protruding from the metal tube, though it was too dark to see. Suddenly, the ceiling light came on, and I woke up again, standing in front of the cage. I felt a sliver of dawn breaking, faintly seeping in through the small window in the cellar. My senses told me it was still morning. Jin opened the cage, ordered me to stand, and helped me to my feet—of course, this was difficult due to my complete lack of freedom. He took an empty plastic bag and placed it under the metal tube of the penis handcuffs. A few minutes later, through his efforts and under the threat of punishment, I defecated. He… He held the plastic bag under my nose and made me smell it for a while, then tossed it aside. He grabbed one of my arms and made me follow him. I was practically hopping along; the leather shackles on my ankles were too short, restricting any other movement. I saw my reflection clearly in a large mirror on the wall: the shackles, the hood, hopping on my feet. A mixture of humiliation and excitement welled up inside me. This was the first time I had ever felt this way. I stood before a closet. A chill ran down my spine, my heart pounding, for I saw the complete set of equipment inside and could imagine it waiting for me to use. Jin laid me down on a thick canvas beneath the closet. He made me sit with my knees bent and pressed against my chest, pressing down on my hands (the straitjacket forced my hands to be crossed in front of my chest). He began to pull at the canvas, like a post office parcel.They wrapped me up. Suddenly, darkness enveloped me. The canvas bag pressed tightly against my body. I felt Kim's hands caressing my back, shoulders, and thighs. He turned the bag around, checking my position inside, then told me in a deep, low voice that a true slave (he mentioned the word again) would enjoy being hung alone in a bag. He said he and Bo had some errands to run before breakfast, and they believed I would derive pleasure from being suspended. Then the door closed. Looking back, I still can't be sure they really left me alone in the house after hanging me up. But at the time, I certainly thought so, and it made me quite anxious. I think that after I expressed my feelings to them the night before, they must have assumed I could handle it all. I felt abandoned; my body felt like a lifeless commodity experiencing all the bondage and restraint of the night. Kim's words as he left suggested I should be grateful for it all. A friend had once put me in a mailbag and hung me up, but it was only for a short time, and I wasn't bound by any other restraints then. My friend didn't leave; he stayed by my side the whole time. This time, the straitjacket and other instruments of torture amplified the tightness of the mailbag, making me experience a cramped, scorching space and thin air. When I tried to stretch my legs or move, my weight made me sway in the air, and the inside of the mailbag pressed even tighter against my body. The canvas was reinforced with leather, and of course, there were ventilation holes. In the darkness, in the unbearable heat, I longed for their return. My hands were in agony, sweat streamed down my body through the straitjacket, my jaw felt dislocated, and my entire genital area pressed tightly against the handcuffs. To make matters worse, my weight pushed the anal plug deeper and deeper into my body. I tried to let out a muffled groan from the tight sling and gag, "Please spare me, Master," but there was no response. For me at that moment, it felt like forever, but eventually the door opened and I heard sounds. I couldn't distinguish them, but when one of them told me that they could let me enjoy myself for a few more hours if I felt I hadn't had enough, I couldn't wait to moan and started writhing. They talked to each other for a while, then threatened that if I continued to make noise, they would leave me hanging there all day. So I stopped writhing as a reaction to them, and they put me on the floor and let me out. I completely submitted, lying on the floor, in the closet, next to their feet. Kim bent down, untied the hood, took out the gag, and ordered me to lick Bo's boots. My mouth had been gagged all night and was completely dry, so it was difficult for me to lick, but I did it without thinking. It seemed that humiliation had become a habit. Bo and Kim lifted me up and left the closet so I could sit on a foam mat. They loosened all the restraints except for the anal plug. Bo poked my genitals with his toes; they were already out of control, and the moment the penis cuff was removed, they sprang to life. They gave me a large glass of water and made me slowly sip it through a straw. They proudly told me that my "slave penis" showed I was indeed a good bondage slave, and they swore they would hang me up again in the future. They made me put on shoes and socks, and Bo put a wide leather collar around my neck. They warned me to keep the anal plug in place. There was some exercise equipment in the cellar, and they made me exercise on a treadmill while drinking water through a straw, while they did some strength training. My semi-erect penis swayed in front of me, and I walked on the treadmill with great pleasure, feeling the freedom of my body, especially the freedom of my hands. This pleasant activity lasted for about 30 minutes. Having been blocked all night, I tried to gently expel the gas through the anal plug, but it began to slip out. I frantically reached behind my back, trying to grab it and reinsert it while simultaneously trying to stop the treadmill. But the anal plug mercilessly slipped past my fingers, fell onto the treadmill, and bounced to the floor. Kim announced that I would be punished. Bo disappeared for a moment and then returned with a huge pile of stuff. Kim sat on the exercise bench, and I lay on his lap. They quickly and tightly bound my hands with rope, binding them painfully, then pulled them up to my limit and fastened them in the tethered rings. Then they used that combination headgear and gag again (the one they used in the car last night). They lubricated my anus and slowly inserted a large anal plug. It wasn't easy to insert. Kim slapped my buttocks hard and told me to relax. Finally, with a tearing pain, the most protruding part of the anal plug passed through my sphincter and entered my back door. They helped me stand up, then tied a folded rope around my wrists, running the end down my back and through my crotch, pressing it tightly against the anal plug along my buttocks. They used the remaining part to bind my penis and testicles, then tugged on the rope to test its tightness before putting me back on the treadmill to continue exercising. This time it wasn't so comfortable. My arms were tied high behind my back, making it difficult to maintain my balance. If I accidentally moved my hands even slightly, I felt like someone was choking me, and my genitals felt like they were being crushed. I could only slightly bend my legs to alleviate the pain in my penis and testicles. Occasionally, Kim and Bo would increase the speed of the treadmill, then leisurely observe my sweating and my labored breathing through the headgear and ball gag. (To be continued) After the workout, they loosened the ropes, handcuffed my hands in front, and put me in the cage to observe me eating. They made me some fried eggs, a fruit and corn salad, and a glass of orange juice, which I spilled everywhere because I had never eaten with my hands cuffed before. As I sat cross-legged, the pressure of the anal plug made its presence even more acute, and my penis stood erect. After I finished eating, they ordered me out of the cage, re-cuffed my hands behind my back, and led me to the bathroom. They took off my shoes and socks and made me shower while handcuffed. They touched all my genitals, which felt incredibly strange and embarrassing (Kim even brushed my teeth). They seemed very serious about this role, and I remained silent in complete submission to their authority, offering no resistance to anything they did. Contrary to my inner fear, my penis declared its satisfaction in its own way, the pre-ejaculate glistening on the glans. Then came the most humiliating thing: they removed the anal plug—it was as if a hole had suddenly been ripped out of my body. They kept me handcuffed behind my back and continued to give me enemas until only clear water came out, leaving my body empty and clean. After the enema, Bo brought over a stool and had me sit on it. They tightly bound my feet to the stool, then used a long rope to tie my handcuffed hands, pulling it down taut, passing it under the stool, and using the remaining part to bind my genitals, so that any movement of my hands would cause me great pain. Jin took out an electric scissor and told me that because I had shown great interest in Bo's short hair, he planned to cut my hair like that. He also told me that he was the one who cut Bo's hair, and that now they thought it was the right time. Bo then told me to wait and said seriously: "Since I don't yet truly belong to them completely, they want to ask for my opinion." This was probably the only thing they had asked for my opinion on all weekend, but they probably hadn't even noticed. He smiled at me. They wanted to hear my answer about whether I needed a hairstyle they liked. “I do, Master,” I said to Bo without hesitation, then repeated, “No problem, Master.” My erect penis jerked upwards as the scissors touched my head, then I watched silently as my hair fell beside me to the floor. After the haircut, they put a shovel and gag on me, and blindfolded me. They told me not to rush to see what I looked like after the haircut, but they told me I looked cool and cute now. I experienced the difference between wearing the shovel now and when I had long hair; it seemed the shovel now constricted my head more tightly. My mouth had to open wider, and the rubber ball seemed to be deeper into my throat. They released me from the stool, unlocked the handcuffs, then handcuffed them in front of me again, and made me stand under the shower rack. They held my handcuffed hands high, hanging them…On a hook above my head. My body was actually quite smooth, but the hair on my legs was shaved clean, even my armpits. They then applied a strange-smelling lotion all over my body, including my testicles and the base of my penis. They explained it was a hair removal agent and told me to let it work in a bit. Then they remembered something, turned me to face the wall, and applied that strange stuff to my buttocks and anus. For a while, my testicles, penis, anus, and other sensitive areas felt like they were on fire. So when they washed my whole body clean with cold water, my penis went completely limp and shrank, probably the first time since I met them. (To be continued) Before I could even get excited, they put a complicated chastity device on me, the one Bo hadn't been able to put on me the night before. But I only found out about all this later. At the time, I only knew they were putting something on me, and then I realized I could no longer get an erection. A thick metal ring encased my genitals. Connected to the ring were hinged small, round, hemispherical metal cages that covered my genitals and were then secured to the ring with hexagonal screws. My penis was folded and squeezed together with my testicles, then forced downwards by the cage; the cage was so small that my penis and testicles were compressed into one piece. They dried my body, made me bend over, and reinserted the anal plug. They led me out of the bathroom, removed the blindfold, and continued to fully install the chastity belt. Besides the penis ring and the cage, the chastity belt consisted of multiple straps and steel connectors, starting from the waist, wrapping around my buttocks, supporting my buttocks, then another strap pressed against my anus and anal plug, connecting to the bottom of the penis ring. At the front, the upper part of the cage was connected to the waist belt by straps. They had me perform several movements—standing, squatting, and leaning forward—to test the tightness of the straps in different positions, then secured them completely and locked them in various places. It was a permanent feeling. My penis began to swell as they reinserted the anal plug, and the urge to become erect intensified as they tightened the chastity belt. Kim said my penis was a bit out of control and needed to be trained; a full erection was only allowed when they permitted it, at which point they would remove the chastity belt. It clearly responded, its head pressing hard against the hard inner walls of the cage, and I realized the cage brought an unparalleled masochistic sensation. My legs went weak without me realizing it, and groans escaped from my tightly gagged mouth. They exchanged smiles, telling me I would get used to it, and warning that if I made any more noise, they would replace it with a larger gag. Now they led me to the mirror on the wall, encouraging me to appreciate my body: almost naked, crew cut, handcuffed, gagged, anal plug in my anus, my penis and testicles compressed in the cage, almost every orifice in my body filled, completely under their control. I tried to suppress my groans, breathing through the gaps in the gag and my nostrils. They unlocked the handcuffs and replaced them with two sets of solid handcuffs. One set locked my arms just above the elbows, and the other cuffed my wrists, separating my arms and leaving my hands clasped behind my back, unable to move in one position. They used a similar device to cuff my ankles and dragged me to a large wooden crate in the corner. I had long lost track of time, only able to tell from my body that it was around 1 or 2 p.m. I vaguely remember them exchanging a few words; they had some business to attend to in the afternoon and wouldn't be back until evening. They had to ensure my safety before leaving home. Jin opened the crate lid, and then they helped me sit on the edge of the crate and slowly move my feet inside. The box was filled with small pieces of foam. They helped me rummage through the packaging until my feet touched the bottom. Jin held my shoulders and helped me slowly sit down, while Bo helped pry open the foam and pile it on top of me. Finally, I was sitting inside the box, my upper body against the side panel, my knees against my chest, and my head level with the top. They added a leather mask over the headgear and gag and tightened the straps. I could feel them adding more foam into the box. I could only move my upper body (I could only move my upper body), loosening the foam a little, and then continuing to add more foam until the box was completely full, and I couldn't move my body in any direction. The foam piled up to my chin. Here I must pause my story to describe the box in detail. It was actually a packing crate made of heavy wooden planks, but Kim and Bo had repurposed it. It had two lids: one with a notch that fit directly over the foam, just enough to expose the prisoner's neck; the other was a single solid piece, sealing the box tightly. Both lids were completely separate from the box, but when closed, they could be easily secured with padlocks. They had drilled numerous vents in the sides and top of the box. That day, when I was locked inside, even though the leather mask impaired my hearing, I clearly remember the thud of the wood when the inner lid closed and the scraping of the iron lock against the wooden lid. One of them locked the inner lid, which increased the pressure on the packing materials and reduced the space inside the box. Then came another agonizing sound, making me feel truly like a slave in this situation: the top of the box slammed shut, and the sudden blast of air made my head buzz.Inside, almost every orifice on my body was filled, completely under their control. I tried my best to suppress my groans, breathing through the gaps in the gag and my nostrils. They unlocked the handcuffs and replaced them with two sets of solid handcuffs, one locking my arms just above the elbows, the other cuffing my wrists. This separated my arms, leaving my hands tied behind my back, holding me in one position, almost unable to move. They used a similar device to cuff my ankles and dragged me to a large wooden crate in the corner. I had long lost track of time, only knowing from my body that it was about 1 or 2 pm. I vaguely remember them exchanging a few words; they had some business to attend to in the afternoon and wouldn't be back until evening. When they left home, they had to ensure my safety. Jin opened the crate lid, and then they helped me sit on the edge of the crate and slowly moved my feet inside. The box was filled with small pieces of foam. They helped me rummage through the packaging until my feet touched the bottom. Jin held my shoulders and helped me slowly sit down, while Bo helped pry open the foam and pile it on top of me. Finally, I was sitting inside the box, my upper body against the side panel, my knees against my chest, and my head level with the top. They added a leather mask over the headgear and gag and tightened the straps. I could feel them adding more foam into the box. I could only move my upper body (I could only move my upper body), loosening the foam a little, and then continuing to add more foam until the box was completely full, and I couldn't move my body in any direction. The foam piled up to my chin. Here I must pause my story to describe the box in detail. It was actually a packing crate made of heavy wooden planks, but Kim and Bo had repurposed it. It had two lids: one with a notch that fit directly over the foam, just enough to expose the prisoner's neck; the other was a single solid piece, sealing the box tightly. Both lids were completely separate from the box, but when closed, they could be easily secured with padlocks. They had drilled numerous vents in the sides and top of the box. That day, when I was locked inside, even though the leather mask impaired my hearing, I clearly remember the thud of the wood when the inner lid closed and the scraping of the iron lock against the wooden lid. One of them locked the inner lid, which increased the pressure on the packing materials and reduced the space inside the box. Then came another agonizing sound, making me feel truly like a slave in this situation: the top of the box slammed shut, and the sudden blast of air made my head buzz.Inside, almost every orifice on my body was filled, completely under their control. I tried my best to suppress my groans, breathing through the gaps in the gag and my nostrils. They unlocked the handcuffs and replaced them with two sets of solid handcuffs, one locking my arms just above the elbows, the other cuffing my wrists. This separated my arms, leaving my hands tied behind my back, holding me in one position, almost unable to move. They used a similar device to cuff my ankles and dragged me to a large wooden crate in the corner. I had long lost track of time, only knowing from my body that it was about 1 or 2 pm. I vaguely remember them exchanging a few words; they had some business to attend to in the afternoon and wouldn't be back until evening. When they left home, they had to ensure my safety. Jin opened the crate lid, and then they helped me sit on the edge of the crate and slowly moved my feet inside. The box was filled with small pieces of foam. They helped me rummage through the packaging until my feet touched the bottom. Jin held my shoulders and helped me slowly sit down, while Bo helped pry open the foam and pile it on top of me. Finally, I was sitting inside the box, my upper body against the side panel, my knees against my chest, and my head level with the top. They added a leather mask over the headgear and gag and tightened the straps. I could feel them adding more foam into the box. I could only move my upper body (I could only move my upper body), loosening the foam a little, and then continuing to add more foam until the box was completely full, and I couldn't move my body in any direction. The foam piled up to my chin. Here I must pause my story to describe the box in detail. It was actually a packing crate made of heavy wooden planks, but Kim and Bo had repurposed it. It had two lids: one with a notch that fit directly over the foam, just enough to expose the prisoner's neck; the other was a single solid piece, sealing the box tightly. Both lids were completely separate from the box, but when closed, they could be easily secured with padlocks. They had drilled numerous vents in the sides and top of the box. That day, when I was locked inside, even though the leather mask impaired my hearing, I clearly remember the thud of the wood when the inner lid closed and the scraping of the iron lock against the wooden lid. One of them locked the inner lid, which increased the pressure on the packing materials and reduced the space inside the box. Then came another agonizing sound, making me feel truly like a slave in this situation: the top of the box slammed shut, and the sudden blast of air made my head buzz.

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