Trail Cutter shivered in nervous anticipation as he looked over what he’d assembled for the weekend. It was a very, very rare three day weekend, and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest. One day of strict self bondage, one day for recovery, and a spare just in case. Yep, perfect.
Arranged before him on the floor was his toys for the weekend, a sleep sack, open and inviting, its zipper running from tail to neck. Extending out from underneath it were three thick built in leather straps, each buckle having a hasp built in, just like the zipper. Arranged around it were his smaller accessories, a leather hood, his favorite. With only three holes, two for his nostrils and one for his horn, it had reinforced pads that would cover his eyes and ears while the leather would hug his head like a second skin. His prize buttplug, a hollow shaft in the shape of a bull’s cock, one more massive than his own impressive shaft, a gift from his Clydesdale side. It was already lubed from tip to the fat and rather out of place knot just before the flat base. Last was the cock pump with a mana engine and a hose that would connect to a fitting on the plug. A little magical nudge, and the engine would milk his cock, not at a steady rate, no, this would be far more random, though it was sure to drain him fully by the time the weekend was over.
Nervously he started with the plug, grasping it in his magic, raising his tail before pressing it up against his ponut, the sharply tapered tip slipping in easily and drawing a shudder from him. Drawing his breath in slowly, he eased it in further, drew it back, then slowly eased it forward. Inch by inch the long thick shaft disappeared into him until he felt the knot nudging him. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to relax as he drew the toy back, then pushed it forward firmly, pressing it against his back door, his tailhole straining to open wide enough for the fat knot. Little by little, slowly it entered him, his ponut stretched around it, only able to relax as it reached the widest point, his body pulling it in from there until the base rested against his ass, the plug trapped within him.
Now the pump, his magic giving the engine a nudge before he lifted the tube, a hissing heard from it as it steadily drew in air. Bringing it to his half hard cock, the tube pulled itself onto his shaft with just enough suction to hold it there. Now the clock was ticking, his magic quickly connecting the hose to a fitting on the plug, the destination of his releases guaranteed. Soon the engine’s programming would kick in, and he had to finish by then.
Quickly he stepped into the sack, settling down on his belly, his legs tucked up tight to his barrel, the milking tube and its engine pressed up against his stomach. He checked the tube with his magic, making sure it wasn’t pinched, then zipped the sack up. Slowly the zipper crawled along his back, sending a shiver through him as the sack closed around him, wrapping him in its embrace. Still, it wasn’t tight enough for him, but that’s what the straps were for. One by one they wrapped around the sack, pulling tight before the buckle was fastened.
Now for the last piece, the coup de grâs, his prize hood. With a deep breath, or at least as deep a breath as he could take with those straps wrapped around his barrel, he raised it in his magic. Gently, almost reverently he raised it up, pressing it to the tip of his muzzle, then sliding it on. It wrapped tightly around his muzzle, pinning his mouth shut, then the pads reached his eyes, pressing down on them, but not before he closed them. Then it slid over his head, the pads pinning his ears to his head. He pulled the zipper down, the hood molding to his head, cutting off the world, embracing him from the top of his head right down his neck to where it met the sack.
With that done, there was nothing to do but roll onto his side, relax and wait for the pump to start milking him. It might run a full cycle and drain him, or it might just tease him with a light touch. It could even bring him right to the edge, only to stop and leave him wanting. That was the beauty of it, two do hours, maybe more if he felt like it. He’d made sure the eat properly for this as well as cleanse himself, so he would be fine for a day or a bit more that’s for sure.
His breath whistled through the holes in the hood as he lay there, letting his mind just float blankly, until the pump started. He drew in breath sharply as the suction suddenly increased, tugging and pulling on his shaft, his hips trying to thrust involuntarily despite his bondage. Closer and closer, the first one was allows the easiest, just a little more… and damn, it stopped.
Was it tomorrow yet? The pump was driving him crazy, this was the first time he went this far, and he was starting to realize that he had no way of knowing how much time had passed. Minutes… hours… days? He’d cum twice so far, and been teased a few more. Still, some how he suspected it wasn’t nearly a day, and he certainly could stay like this for a while longer, dozing, half awake or was that half asleep?
Cut off as he was, he didn’t hear the door open, the lock released by magic. He didn’t hear the hoofsteps on his carpet as a stranger approached the softly struggling sack. He did however feel the loss of his magic as a suppressor ring slid down his stub of a horn. It was like having a limb cut off, a piece removed, and more importantly, the only way he could get out of his bondage. Quickly he began to struggle, desperately hoping that his gear wasn’t as good quality as he knew it was, drawing a chuckle from his unseen visitor.
“Mmm, nope, we’ll have none of that,” their magic reaching out for the straps, unbuckling them, then pulling each one one notch tighter, forcing the air from his lungs. As each was buckled, a padlock was added, insuring that they’d stay that way for as long as his captor desired. Clearly his visitor was prepared as a thick leather collar levitated from them, wrapping around his neck, buckled snugly and covering the hood’s zipper, a padlock being added to insure that it would stay put.
“Much better, now to take you home with me,” the unicorn said as his magic wrapped around the large vaguely pony shaped bundle and lifted it from the floor. Stepping out of the door into the night, Trail Cutter followed whether he wanted to or not. Pausing for a moment, his captor closed and locked the door, before setting off for their home… or dungeon… or worse...
Author's Note
Ok, just a re-write of a re-write, a bit of BDSM fun with what was originally my main OC. Probably a bit lighter than some of my other stuff, just search the web for Mr Phibb ifn you want to see that.
Yes its complete, no, his fate won't be revealed, at least unless my muse for some reason decides that some closure is needed.