This is not so much a short story as an explanation as to how this bondage tool or method works. The box is a punishment attention-getting device which removes activity or stimulation from the bottom for a long period of time. You might call it a “boring machine” for depriving most of the senses of stimulation. There is no light, nearly no sound, and most of all nothing absolutely nothing to do for 24 hours. This sounds simple, easy, and totally pain free and it is! Give it a try yourself; the box is the perfect self-bondage device or method.
The bottom is bathed, stripped naked, whipped (optional), and put in the box. The box has no light, very little sound, no toys, no phone, no nothing! The only things allowed in the box are two one gallon plastic bottles and a funnel. One bottle is filled with drinking water and the other with the funnel serves as the toilet. The bottom has the enjoyment of finding these in the dark being careful not to knock them over. Drinking and pissing are the only stimulating things available. One could masturbate or sleep, but neither can go on for 24 hours.
The simplest form of the box is a guest or half bath. Remove everything that is not nailed down (or rather have your bottom remove everything). Turn off the water under the sink and behind the toilet removing the knobs and taking them out of the room. Remove the light bulbs, toilet seat, and flush the toilet. Your bottom may want to have an enema or two shortly before entering. Your bottom must know that if you hear talking, singing, or whistling the 24 hours starts all over. If the bottom is diabetic do not use this method of bondage.
Be sure and tell the bottom in advance about the event to stimulate thinking and worry. Consider whipping the bottom just before entry into the box and again after leaving. Nice bright red welts from a wire coat hanger or crop delivered on all sides will be uncomfortable for hours. Start the event early in the evening so sleep is sometime away and may never come. The bottom should not eat anything after lunch on the day of the event to bring about mild hunger. Sound a loud alarm ever couple of hours starting about midnight to chase away sleep.
This all sounds pleasant enough, just lie down for twenty-four hours, sleep, play with yourself, or fantasize, fun right! You can only masturbate so often, and remember it is forbidden! Inspect the hands carefully saying, “they better be clean and dry in twenty-four hours or we start over!” Sleep even if you did not interrupt it every few hours can only go on so long. Fantasy, yes, but without stimulation. You don’t need to watch or lock the door, place a piece of paper between the jam and door to fall out if the door is opened, even an inch.
This method of bondage is inversely related to how active you live. The more activity in your life the worse you will find the punishment of being deprived of activity. The box is like the short-term torment of solitary confinement. I went into my box (each of us has her own) wanting to taste the other end of the whip and found out it has a real sting. I could not use Francine because that would harm our relationship and someone had to work at the shop. I got Jera, a friend, to maintain control so I could not cheat.
I had a light lunch on the day of the event and showered just before Jera arrived at four P.M. I gave myself four warm water enemas to clear my bowels. We had agreed no sex only a beating that Jera always delivered painfully well. I am a little masochistic at times, but being whipped always hurts inside and out. Jera had beaten me only once before and as with that time I sobbed uncontrollably. I always feel a beating should be painful and leave bright marks and Jera’s met the requirements. Perhaps, I need to be reminded more often.
As Jera went through the ritual of checking my hands, she pointed to the plastic bottles and said, “you will stay here until you fill the empty and empty the full.” This little intimidating surprise meant I had to piss a gallon from the gallon I drank or spend an additional twenty-four hours drinking piss. Jera knows I serve piss to all my bottoms and I like a last minute surprise. She has a personal alarm that sounds out a loud ear piercing noise when someone touches the doorknob. The grounding of the low voltage circuit trips an electronic switch.
It was five o’clock when the door shut and I found myself in my empty dark quiet box. She tripped the alarm and the loud noise right against the door echoing through the small tile floor bathroom was enough to shatter my ears. I screamed and Jera asked if I said something, meaning keep your mouth shut or stay in there forever. There was no way to get comfortable on the hard cold surface of the tile floor. Of course, when I finely fell to sleep the alarm would sound scaring me out of my skin and leaving me fearful.
Each time I screamed from the alarm, I held my breath for a long minute expecting the double knock, which means time starts over again. Jera was kind enough not to punish me for reacting to the noise of the alarm. Drinking from the bottle was not much excitement, but pissing into the funnel in the dark was comically entertaining. Jera’s little surprise requirement meant I could not just hold it or use the toilet; I had to fill one bottle and empty the other. Pissing was no simple act in the dark with a funnel and a plastic bottle.
I woke in the middle of, well I don’t know what it was the middle of do I, not from the alarm, but with a personal need. I sat there for a long time debating the problem and the only possible solution. Jera might just open the door and shut me back in what would be a shit hole for another twenty-four hours. Jera would do it too! Sitting on the pot with out a seat was humiliating enough, but trying to defecate in the dark was real work. When it finely started, I worried about when it would stop.
It did smell! I washed my hands with some drinking water and let them air dry. I decided I could do the same thing after playing with myself and fingering my dry clit managed to get off. Even though it was forbidden and I had nothing else to do, I found it more like going through the motions then any form of satisfaction. I licked the juices from my hand and took a nap, which was interrupted by that blasted alarm. Shortly after, I finished the drinking water and pissed into the fill up bottle that was not near full.
Lying in the dark with most of the soreness from Jera’s painful beating gone and unable to sleep on the rock hard floor, I wondered if I was going to be drinking from the other bottle. I hate drinking piss; that is why I force it down the throats of my bottoms. Jera pulled open the door without invitation blinding me with the light and remarked about my gross smell. She let me out of the box and I bathed before we went to breakfast. With the ordeal over, everything for a few hours took on a whole new stimulation.
Jera told me over breakfast one homophobic she worked begged to suck cock rather than return to the box. The box provides de-stimulation that is often worse than any beating, torture, or sexual assault. Part of the problem is isolation and part is the long drawn out time element with nothing to do. Using the box to define a relationship with a new bottom is very effective. The box can become the highest form of punishment in the mind of the submissive. The real cost is a day in your life. Perhaps, time is the most valuable thing you own.
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24.11.02 | updated - 07.05.17