Friday, June 17, 2011

The Amsterdam Box

My first recollection was that it was dark and that I couldn't move. I struggled to move my arms but restraints held my wrists in place. Further struggling would reveal restraints around my ankles, chest and forehead. "Where the fuck am I?" I wondered, half out loud.

Last I remember I was boozing it up with a handsome attorney I'd met cruising the courthouse bathrooms. We decided to grab a drink and he'd asked me whether I'd ever been to a Dungeon Party and if I knew what an Amsterdam Box was. Sure I'd been passed around at lots of leather parties but I admit the Amsterdam Box was completely foreign to me. The next thing I knew the room starts spinning and I was blacking out.

Holy shit! I've been drugged! A momentary wave of panic overcame me. I've been in sticky situations before, but to come to completely immobilized in the dark makes it harder to defend oneself should the need arise. I'm alert now and start to become aware of my surroundings.

Not only is it dark. It's pitch black. Also, I'm not in a dark room. I may be restrained but I am aware I am closely contained in a box. This revelation comes to me when I struggle to move my head and bump my nose on a flat surface directly in front of me. Wildly wiggling my fingers, I scratch a wooden surface...a wall in front of me.

Suddenly I'm awash in a wave of nausea. I can't perceive whether I am standing or lying flat and the uncertainty of it makes me dizzy. It's only when I relax and breathe that I can feel gravity and deduce that I am standing though restrained against a wall, in a box.

Again, the gravity of my situation starts to sink in and I'm feeling a bit that I may be in for more than I can handle. Then I hear snickering. Outside of the box, I'm not alone. I strive to figure out how many people are outside. Do I yell for help?

Before I have a chance to settle on my next move, a panel slides to the right in front of my face. I am blinded by what strikes me as the brightest light. A complete stranger stares at me as I wince to make out his face. I don't recognize this person. From what I can see, he's decked out in leather, has a goatee and is quite handsome. "He's coming around," he says. The attorney walks into my field of vision and looks directly in my eyes and says, "Now you'll know what it feels like to be in an Amsterdam Box." The door in front of my eyes closes shut, but another in front of my crotch opens.

I'm naked. I'm suddenly aware of this fact and find it funny it didn't dawn on me until just now. A hand reaches in and fondles my dick. I start to get hard. A hand, obviously masculine, tugs at my dick. The guy plants a kiss on the head of my cock and I throb in response. Then I feel waves of excruciating pain as the guy attaches clothes pins to my ball sack. Several clamps bite down on my nuts and waves of agony wash over me. I am almost blinded with pain and think I'm close to vomiting on myself in the box. "Aww, he doesn't like it, his boner went away," a new voice said from outside the box. I make audible sounds of
distress, but don't scream out for fear that the torture will get worse.

One by one the clamps come off, though the pain and nausea linger. Another panel opens in front of my chest and the clamps are affixed to my nipples. It's painful, but bearable compares to my nuts. My nipples are hard-wired to my dick and my bone reemerges in full force.

I feel someone go down on me. Warm, wet breathe circles my dick and is followed by a man's lips sucking my cock. I'm sure it's a dude because I can feel the tickling of his mustache on my wet shaft. I'm in pain and ecstasy in the same moment. The rhythmic sucking on my shaft keeps edging me closer and closer to climax, but just before the point of no return, the cocksucker eases off and leaves me hanging. "Let me suck it," another one says and then another, and another. Mouth after mouth take turns on my pole. Some are experts, some rake me with their teeth, but I am helpless to protest.

I hear another panel slide open but I am momentarily unaware of its location. A lubed up finger pushes into my ass but only long enough to leave some grease in my hole. A hard dick pushes against my shitter and the little bit of slickness makes it easy for this man to enter my butthole.

I can't fucking move. Instinctively I want to bend forward to provide more direct access to my ass, but I am rigidly bound to standing straight up in this box. A mouth expertly sucks my dick while some guy invades my guts. I feel weak having to maintain this position, but I've no choice.

Mouth after mouth worked my dick and I blew several loads that night. Similarly, dicks took turns polluting my ass with loads of hot spunk which ran down my legs. When I was eventually extracted from the box, I was exhausted and sore from head to toe. A troll-like Dungeon Master named Dave was the man kind enough to release me. He owned the house where the party was held and the Box was kept. He rubbed my muscles and aches a little before helping me to a shower where I could clean up and poop out
what felt like a gallon of jizz from my ass.

Where did you find this amazing box I finally asked? The answer was Amsterdam, as you probably have guessed. How long was I in there? "Close to 4 hours," he replied. "It felt like longer," I said which I guess happens when you're almost totally sensory deprived.

I wish I'd gotten to blow some of these guys, I mumbled to myself. "Oh you will, we've another party on Friday and then fresh meat will be in the Box." I almost wished it were me.