The sensation of heavy, medical-grade latex against my skin is the only thing that matters. Both Bryan and I are c*mpletely encased head to toe in bl*ck shine. We are two silhouettes of rubber, moving in a silent, polished rhythm.

I lead my submissive, Bryan, toward the towering isolation box. He is already vulnerable, hidden behind his mask and trapped in his catsuit, but he doesn't know how restricted he is about to become. I chain him into the upright coffin and seal the heavy door. Now, he is entirely mine.

I take my time, savoring his helplessness before opening the small hatches in the door. Through the face and crotch panels, I deliver a teasing bl*wjob and handjob, feeling the contrast of the cold box and his heat. But I am the one in control when I have had my fill of his desperation, I simply unchain him and move to the next phase of his t*rment.

I have finished with the isolation box... for now. But Bryans t*rment is far from over.

The isolation box was just the beginning. After leaving Bryan trembling and confined in the upright coffin, I’ve decided he needs to be restrained more.

In this second installment of our total-*ncasement session, I lead my submissive to the stretch bench. You’ll watch every methodical second as I secure him with heavy-duty Segufix restraints, pinning his rubber-clad limbs until he is c*mpletely at my mercy. There is nowhere for him to run, and through his mask, he can only watch as I prepare my next tool of t*rment.

I escalate the sensory deprivation by donning my specialized gasmask with its internal bl*wjob attachment. The rhythmic sound of my breathing inside the rubber is the only thing he hears as I work him over with clinical precision. I take him to the absolute edge, mounting him in my HW Design p*ssy pants and riding him with cold authority.

He thinks he’s earned his release. He’s wrong. I’m leaving him restrained, struggeling, and c*mpletely denied.

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