Interruption

Literotic asexstories – Interruption by MK_Whimsy,MK_Whimsy
It was another day in the padded cell. Aside from a short, carefully-managed lunch and restroom break, I was once again confined to its small, plush interior, with my arms wrapped around my torso in the straitjacket, and the tether anchoring me to the bench, giving me just enough slack to stand up and step forward about three feet or so. And the heavy panel covering my mouth, secured via an array of head straps. Just like most every other day before, however many of them there had been up to this point.

I had expected another lengthy period of confinement with little to do but stare at the padded walls, trying to make out and re-make out the outline of the heavy door on the other side. Or count the squares of padding – there were exactly 215. I had verified that number multiple times. At least, they were sort of squarish. They actually consisted of heavy buttons or capped screws that secured the thick padding into the walls into these deep “dimples,” the padding which puffed out in between them into these vaguely diamond-like shapes. Somewhat reminiscent of an argyle pattern, or the kind of arrangement you might see on a mattress. Were they squares, or diamonds, or neither, or both? It bugged me that I couldn’t quite define them. They were diamonds relative to the bench and the door, that much was certain, but could be squares from the right perspective if you angled your head a certain way. I wondered if the other cells had the same number of them. This facility was kept pretty neat and organized, so they probably did.

The outline around the door neatly bisected the diamond-shapes, but did not interrupt their pattern, which made the heavy door seem to blend in with the rest of the walls. The only thing that did break the pattern was the large circular recessed light in the ceiling, which was indeed a very clean shape, and the brightness kept to a low, unobtrusive level, warm in tone, not harsh or grating like some office lighting. I was thankful for that, at least. I wondered how difficult it had been to cut the padding to fit around it so neatly. Come to think of it, I don’t know why they felt a padded ceiling was even necessary. Maybe they wanted consistency. I would have preferred a different type of ceiling just to have a bit of contrast, maybe some kind of nice hardwood appearance. But no doubt the staff, in their infinite cruelty, would have considered it to be overstimulating.

See, in my prior life, before I was secured in this place – the “before-times,” as I liked to privately refer to them – I had real hobbies that were actually interesting. They were out of reach now, supplanted by the intolerably dull and endless stretches of time trapped in the cell. These days I wasn’t even thinking about them so much – anymore, my thoughts were fixed on the situation I was in now, in the present moment. And in spite of the cell’s spartan interior, not to mention the dearth of anything in the way of entertainment, it was doing very well what it was designed to do. That is, keep me imprisoned inside. And that it did with a sort of cold, ruthless effectiveness. It was a soft, plush, padded embrace that I could never leave. Well, not on my own anyway. Overprotective, you could say, designed with the best intentions in mind, to keep me nice and safe.

And don’t think I didn’t try to leave. Oh I busied myself many, many times, fighting with my straitjacket, pulling and tugging at the sleeves, trying to stretch my arms out, sometimes while twisting my body, jerking left and right. Naturally my arms would end up neatly drawn back into place over my chest each time, which frustrated me. I may have jerked upwards as much as I could too, before the crotch strap running between my legs neatly stopped that effort short. Or I might have tried to make my way over to the padded door. I would have gotten about halfway across the room before the tether stopped me, and then started to lean forward, pulling and straining against it while my feet slid around on the smooth padding on the floor. Then back to more squirming and pulling, closer to the bench this time, with the tether dangling loosely from the back of my jacket between my legs.

Eventually, I would slump onto the padded bench, arms still crossed over my chest, catching my breath. I’d look around at the padded walls, and down at my garment, and at the outline of the door I couldn’t reach. Then I would try again, pulling my arms this way and that and jerking my body around more. This would eventually escalate into frustrated, aggressive yanking, while uttering unintelligible, rambling curses into my mouth panel. I was like a bug stuck in a spider web, with my whole life reduced to this repetitive, futile struggle. The thought of the situation only got me even more worked up, leading to even more fervent twisting and pulling and straining, before I would collapse onto the bench again. And this could go on, and on, and on, over and over again.

Of all the problems I could have, why did I have to get stuck with this one! Needing to be trapped in this cocoon, barely able to move, and no hint on when I could ever get out. And not to mention, kept expertly under control by the staff, who seemed to delight in undoing any progress I seemed to be making. Retightening a strap here, or securing a buckle there, during their routine check-ups.

But I was determined. Any day I would break out of this thing. Just had to keep trying, keep persevering. Something would give eventually, and I could finally be free. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. And once I got out and could get my hands on a computer, I would leave the most scathing review for this place online that I could muster, full of colorful adjectives. I spent much time contemplating exactly what I would put in it.

Normally, my desperate struggles were always met with the silence of the cell. To my surprise today, however, the silence was suddenly interrupted by a dull knock, before the heavy door opened and a youngish man entered. Maybe in his early thirties somewhere, it was hard to say exactly. He held a tablet and carried a small nurse’s bag, like most of the staff, and was dressed in a teal and white uniform with a stethoscope draped around him.

“H-hi there,” he said, and gave a brief wave and smile. He came across as shy and unsure of himself, which wasn’t typical of the staff. Naturally, I couldn’t return the wave, though I managed a muffled sound from behind the mouth panel I was wearing. He stepped over toward me, somewhat timidly. “Not to worry, aheh, I’m just a nurse, just checking on you. Now relax, I’m going to get your vitals…” He had a voice that was soft and gentle. He left the padded door open just a crack. Precisely why they had tethered me to the bench, so I couldn’t bolt out when such an opportunity presented. Then he quickly shut it.

Looking at the nurse, I initially felt disappointed. Since the interruption was unusual, it led me to hope it was somebody coming with discharge orders and I could finally get out of this place. Clearly that wasn’t the case today. However, I found myself pondering whether he was scared of me. I was in the maximum security wing after all, the floor reserved for the most difficult cases, which gave him every reason to be scared. I considered posturing at him, puffing my chest out, and even lunging as far as the tether would allow while giving a muffled roar, just to frighten him. It might have been briefly entertaining and a nice respite from the boredom of the cell. He would have run away in terror, and this place would have had one less staff member, and I would have felt smugly victorious. It’s nice to have little wins here and there in this place. Or, maybe just level a cold, sinister stare at him, like some kind of brooding movie villain. Though, my better angels prevailed, as that would have only led to a black mark in my file. So I sat still, as uncomfortable as that was to do.

Sitting still was one of the hardest things about this place, and despite my best efforts I would often wiggle and squirm, almost out of habit. They didn’t like that, of course, as it wasn’t very well-behaved of me. But I couldn’t help it.

He sat down next to me on the padded bench. “So, how are we today?” he asked, as he took my pulse, checked my temperature and used the stethoscope to check my breathing.

I looked at him incredulously as I attempted a response. “Hmmh hmm mmh hmm mmhmmph!” My mouth worked profusely behind the thick panel gag as I struggled to produce a coherent answer. His mouth turned up into a smile at my attempts. I glared at him, and jerked my elbows slightly outward.

He reached up and slipped his hand behind my head, fingers brushing over the buckles. “Shall I remove this?” he asked, seemingly out loud to nobody in particular. I nodded quickly and whined, desperately wanting him to, though ultimately he had the final say. And there was nothing I could do about it.

He finally did though, undoing the buckles securing the panel to my mouth, pulling it off of my face, while leaving the rest of the head harness in place. I gasped and looked up at him.

“Well, you’re an intrepid one,” I remarked. “Must have figured out I don’t bite.” I opened and stretched my jaw, finding some relief at being able to speak freely.

He nodded. “Yes, it seems appropriate in this case.” He set the panel mask down on the bench. “You’ve been pretty well-behaved the last few days, according to your file, and this will make it easier to communicate anyway. Consider it a bit of a reward.”

I snorted. A reward, hah! A “reward” was getting a raise at work, or being recognized for some act of heroism, not simply having a panel gag peeled off of your face. I grumbled. “I mean, it’s kind of hard to misbehave when you can barely even move. Can you maybe leave that thing off permanently? It’s bad enough I have to wear this… well, everything else.” I attempted to gesture with my arms to “everything else,” though they were stopped short by the sleeves they were contained in.

“For long-term changes, I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of discretion. That’s up to the higher-ups.” He smiled slightly.

“Higher-ups?” I asked. “So what does that make you, then? I can’t say I’ve even seen you before.”

“Oh, I’m a student,” he replied. “Recently came on board, and just getting my bearings here. Trying to learn the ropes and everything. It’s nice to meet you.”

I huffed. “Nice to meet you too,” I offered. “Well, I’m sure you’ll learn a lot about ropes and other restraints working here. They seem to apply them quite liberally.”

He laughed. “Not with most patients. Most of them come and go pretty quickly, and the restraints are completely unnecessary. We only resort to them in very unique cases, of which you happen to be from what I’ve read.” I blinked. Unique! Was that supposed to make me feel good? Well, I brushed it off. I noticed though that he seemed fairly upbeat and enthusiastic about his job. He took a seat next to me on the padded bench. “Looks like you’ve been here quite a while now. How does it feel?”

I just looked at him. “How does what feel?”

“Well the room, the jacket, the treatment, everything.”

I was mildly surprised. “You’re the first person who has ever asked me that so far. I don’t know what you expect me to say though. I hate it! It’s really uncomfortable, and I want to get out of this thing!” I jerked against the sleeves to emphasize my point. “Seriously, I’ve been stuck in here for–”

He looked at me sternly and shook his head, cutting me off. “Now now, if you keep using words like ‘hate’, that’s going to go in your file. You’re not supposed to say such strong words like that.”

I stopped and looked at him in disbelief, my burgeoning verbal tirade abruptly cut short. His straightforwardness was jarring to me, perhaps since I wasn’t expecting it from him. I don’t know why, but I kind of admired it. He didn’t seem to have any qualms about putting me in my place. How rude – I would have to find some way to push back against that. This time though, I sighed, and acquiesced. “Alright, alright. I dislike it greatly. Is that better?” I hoped the minor concession would satisfy him.

“Mm, a little better. But see, we want to hear positive thinking. Remember, that’s important for your treatment.” He jotted some notes down on his tablet. “If it continues to be an issue, we do have a number of speech corrective devices we can use.” At that, he reached into his bag and produced a shiny, round ball gag. He held it up and dangled it in front of my lips to demonstrate.

I blinked and stammered, as a shiver went up my spine, and recoiled at the gag, trying to pull my head away from it. “N-no, no! That’s not necessary. I’ll, try to be more positive.” I also straightened up as I said it, immediately correcting my posture – why, I don’t know. Maybe trying to make a good impression. He seemed to be attempting to project confidence, like he wanted to show he was in control of the situation, despite himself. And I played right into it.

He was a rookie, obviously, and yet I was still at his mercy. I found myself a little embarrassed at this.

So, I cleared my throat. “I mean, okay. The jacket… doesn’t itch. And the lighting in here is okay. And the room temperature is fine. Not too hot or cold. And the staff seems to be monitoring me okay…” The tepid feedback was the best I could muster as I nervously eyed the ball gag he was holding up in front of my face. He made his point, couldn’t he have put that thing away already? Ugh.

“Very good,” he said. “I’ll make sure to note in here no changes needed.” I felt a pang of frustration at those words, but swallowed it. No doubt he observed my squirming and restlessness too, which I couldn’t possibly hide. “Anyway, it seems you are quite anxious to be discharged from here, aren’t you.”

“Yes!” I blurted out, surprising myself at my own exclamation. “I mean… yes, I admit it. I really want to get out of this place.” I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm at the prospect, and writhed around in the jacket more at the suggestion. He mmhmmed, and took more notes down. “I’ve got to get out of here because I’ve got things to do! This is complete overkill, and I hate being stuck in here day after day!” It was a compelling argument, see, and eloquently delivered at that. The exact same one that I had passionately leveled at the staff during each of the review hearings.

He looked at me sternly and lifted the ball gag back up to my face, apparently dissatisfied with the profuse tirade. I blushed hard and shot him a glare as he seemed to toy with me with that thing, frustratedly trying to pull my head away with what little room I had to maneuver with.

“Come on, I’m just answering your question!” I protested. “Just tell me what I need to do to get out of here already.”

“Well, do you know what it is you need to work on?” he asked, looking right at me.

“We’ve been over this already, nothing!” I snapped. He gave me that stern look again. I sighed, having to cede even more ground. “Okay okay. The outbursts…”

“And?”

“…and the repeated squirming fits, and some of the… defiant tendencies,” he said. Not that any of these things ever would have mattered outside of these walls, but inside, they did. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly wrong, I mean.

“Yes, good,” he concurred. “You’ve tended to be very uncooperative and fussy, fighting with the staff and arguing, and refusing to do basic things they tell you.”

“You would too,” I retorted, staring him down.

“So you agree,” he replied, staring back.

I huffed. “Okay okay, I admit it. You’re right. I’m very stubborn, okay? And I should be! I should be free to go where I want and do what I want, and not be bossed around,” I insisted.

He smiled. “Uh huh. And what else?”

I thought for a moment. “And… I’m impatient.”

He leaned in. “How impatient?”

I rolled my eyes at his probing, before smugly conceding, “Very impatient.” The way it came out, it almost sounded like I was bragging about it. Like I was proud of myself for it. I even drew the word out a little bit when I said it. As I did, I looked away disdainfully, and defiantly, and would have crossed my arms too were they not already crossed.

Okay, so I was difficult too, and maybe I deserved what they were doing to me, for all of my disobedience and bad behavior. But I didn’t care and they couldn’t make me care. They deserved it right back. And I certainly wasn’t going to stop, oh no. I couldn’t have, even if I had wanted to.

“And you’re in denial,” he added.

“I am not!” I retorted. Then stopped myself. He laughed. Well, I walked right into that one.

He smiled. “Well, it’s good to see you know what you need to work on. That’s an important step. Anyway, you can be as stubborn and difficult for as long as you like. And nobody’s judging you for it. But until that changes, we have every reason to keep you here, for your own good.”

I pouted indignantly. They kept framing it like it was all up to me, like I was in control of this, when if it were, I would have walked out of here already! And he kept smiling like that too, maybe as if he thought I was cute, all angry and bundled up the way I was. The thought of which only increased my indignation level.

He straightened up. “Look, I know we’ve just met. And I get you try to act tough and all, but I get the sense that you’re actually quite nice, and great company. I’m glad you’re here, and am interested to see how I can best help you.”

I softened at the compliment. He thought I was nice. That was a new one. Though if I was such great company, they might find even more justification to keep me around, I thought.

Eventually he continued, “Besides, look at the positive side. You don’t have any responsibilities. You don’t have to do anything and you’re taken care of. And everything here is free. See, me, I have a lot on my plate and it can be very stressful. You’re very lucky. For you, this should be like a vacation.”

I looked at him with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look. “Vacation?!” I spat out. “But I don’t have any freedom! All I can do is sit here in this cell and squirm around! I’m completely helpless and trapped! Ooh, if I could just get a single buckle loose…” My arms jerked in their sleeves a few more times. If they hadn’t been stuck to my chest, there’s no telling what I would have done. Oh, he probably thought by now that I was dangerous.

But he listened intently, seeming to find my complaining endearing, not to mention my fussing and squirming. He seemed intensely interested in the whole spectacle I was putting up. Well, I didn’t care. I started on another lengthy tirade. “It’s just the same thing, every day. Being trapped like this, completely helpless, can’t get out of this stupid jacket or this stupid cell or–”

“Now now, you can’t say ‘stupid’, that’s not allowed. Remember?”

His gentle admonishment of another forbidden word derailed my train of thought, forcing me to labor to construct a new sentence to his liking. “This… jacket!” I managed, after deliberating. It was so annoying, being corrected like that, but at least also revealed an opening where I could push back at him if I wanted to. “Or go anywhere or do anything useful, being controlled and jerked around all the time…”

At a certain point, I found myself enjoying this profuse tirade, as I steamrolled over their proscriptions around proper speech and word choice. The resulting avalanche of protestations and vulgarity, I found, was particularly fun, breaking the little rules they kept laying out. Each time I did, I couldn’t help but smile a little, as if to taunt him and rub it in his face. Complaining like this was delightful and freeing, and what were they going to do about it?

He finally interjected. “We need to work on this denial issue. Because see, I think given your behavior, and your history, if you were honest with yourself, you would admit… you like being here.” He squeaked out that last little bit cheekily.

There were a lot of things that frustrated me about this place, but something about that comment sent me over the edge in a very specific and unexpected way. Ooh, I hated that he was right. Instantly I fumed. “I do not!” I snapped. “I hate this, hate hate hate this, and I want out!” And right at the last word, he saw his opportunity, reached up, rolled the ball over my lips and into my open mouth, abruptly silencing me.

“Here, we need to quiet you down a bit, you’re ranting too much. It’s not good for you.” My face turned red as the large round obstruction filled my mouth, and he began affixing its straps to the harness that adorned my head. “Whhmm… hrrrmph! Mmph mmmph!” My lips worked desperately over the round surface of the ball, as I wasn’t done talking back to him yet! Who was he to dictate when I got to talk. I glared at him, my face probably bright red, with the big ball protruding from my mouth. And the suddenness of the action caused me to stiffen up down below, a bulge forming under the canvas covering my waist. Oh, I had that coming, badly. But my arms continue to fumble and thrash around in their sleeves as I got more and more worked up.

He sighed, “I see we’re having some setbacks again, that’s a shame.” Then, to my surprise, he slid a little closer. He slipped one of his arms around my waist, fumbling around the straps in front of it. “Okay, you need to calm down. I’m going to try to help relax you a little bit.” His hand jerked around at the crotch strap over my waist, eliciting a muffled gasp from me, as he worked to undo it. Once he did, his hand slipped in and wrapped around my cock, starting to gently stroke it. My eyes widened and I looked straight ahead to the padded door. I squirmed around in my jacket, finding myself very titillated by it, a simple action I could not have mustered on my own. Much as I had wanted to, many times, and as much as, to my chagrin, my situation had made me want to.

He continued to stroke, and my frustrations and protests slowly started to subside and give way to the pleasure from being jerked off. And everything about this, from the cell to the restraints to the tether, to the gag stuffed in my mouth, really were turning me on quite a bit. How did he know about this. I must have let something slip to someone, at some point, that I experienced these kinds of feelings. But it didn’t matter. It was a relief, getting to have a helping hand for once, since mine were effectively trapped. I started to relax, my eyes shutting halfway, my jaw held open by the gag protruding from it, a muffled moan escaping my lips, as I started to relax into the nurse’s stroking hand.

“Now if you cum from this, then that’s going to go into your file, and will likely lead to an extended stay…” he teased softly, as he continued to stroke me. I gasped, and much to my dismay, stiffened even harder. The thought of being trapped in here even longer started to make me very squirmy and frustrated and aroused and– no, I can’t, I need to get out of here! “Mmmph!” I protested. Now that wasn’t fair! I shot him a glare that was half-angry and half-pleading, while mustering another jerk in my restraints. Yet the double-bind he stuck me in was so inexplicably exciting. I couldn’t resist. It went to my head, making me giddy and dreamy, and I sank into it. And I found myself twisting my hips as he continued stroking me off. I was helplessly turned on, my shaft was rock hard. It was indeed a rageboner, and I was compelled to rage-buck into his grip with abandon.

His pace quickened. He started stroking faster. My eyes were shut now, head dipped down, mouth still firmly fixed open by the gag, my breathing rapid, sweat dripping off my forehead as he gripped and slid all along its length. I moaned into the gag in pleasure, in the throes of passion, as the sensations felt so good. After several minutes I sat there on the bench and finally submitted, whimpering pitifully into the gag, completely giving into the stroking. And suddenly, I climaxed. He quickly covered my cock tip with a paper towel as I shot several rounds of seed into it, my head dipped down and breathing rapidly through my nose, completely rocked by the orgasm.

Now it was my turn to have a dazed expression. I leaned back against the wall and stared ahead at the padded door as my orgasm started to subside, head swimming in pleasure, heart pounding, feeling almost slightly drunk as the nurse gently cleaned me off. He wiped me down, and then tucked my cock back into the jacket before refastening the crotch strap under my waist, giving it a pat once it was sealed up again.

Afterwards, he just sat with me for several minutes, running his hands over the canvas covering my back and shoulders, adjusting some of the straps and buckles behind me. It was oddly comforting to me while I steeped in the sensations, admitting to myself that I really did need that. I laid my head back against the wall. For a brief period of time, the fight was taken right out of me, and I relaxed into his care. A melty, hot, and completely helpless mess, all secured and bundled up in institutional restraints. God damn it, I thought. I just keep giving them more excuses to keep this up.

After several moments he reached up and, mercifully, pulled my gag out of my mouth. He stuck a water bottle in it, letting me drink from it. I didn’t say a word. When I was finished, he slipped the gag right back in. Uncharacteristically, I just cooperated and didn’t try to resist.

“Alright, hun,” he eventually cooed. “Well you’re still prone to outbursts and mouthing off I see, so we have to leave this gag in for now. Now, I’ve got other patients to attend to, but I’m hoping to check on you again shortly. It was nice getting to meet you.” He reached up and gave me a patronizing pat on the head, before grabbing his bag and getting to his feet.

I looked at him and mumbled, “Hmph?” My mouth worked around the gag.

“I do hope to see you again soon,” he said. “Have a great rest of your day!”

I just watched him as he freely stepped outside of the door with his nurse bag and tablet, shutting it and locking it and sealing me inside. Feeling jealous, since he was able to do that. Alone once again inside the plush padded cell, plus a gag filling my mouth in lieu of the mere panel they had fitted me with earlier. How annoying. I worked my mouth and lips around it, and pushed at it with my tongue.

However, I found myself grateful for the momentary bit of company, and the release, and boy did it calm me down quite a bit, even if I was also miffed at him for only making my situation worse! I simultaneously wanted to thank him, as well as curse him out for cementing my fate even further. But alas, he was just doing his job. I only had myself to blame. It was my own fault I needed to be restrained, and stuck in that cell, with the gag stuffed in my mouth to keep me from complaining and talking back and saying things I shouldn’t. But I wasn’t going to change, not one bit. I was too hopelessly stubborn. And we were going to go over this, again and again and again, in this protracted and deliciously frustrating process. I knew what I was in for, and I sure didn’t like it, but I most definitely needed it. They had me right where I needed to be.

So eventually, once the pleasure from the orgasm started to abate, it was only a matter of time before I would stand up and begin pulling and tugging at the jacket sleeves some more, twisting around in them and trying to squirm my way out, leading to frustrated groans at how effectively they contained my arms. Single-mindedly fixated on escaping, I could only think about getting out to the exclusion of everything else. And tiring of wearing the gag, I would start to poke and probe at it with my tongue, trying to get enough purchase on it to push it out of my mouth, but the straps held it effectively in place, keeping my tongue pinned down under its mass. As I would continue to squirm and fight, I would keep uttering various protestations to nobody in particular, muffled and incoherent as they were with the thing plugging my mouth. “Mmmph hmmmph!” Oh I would keep trying to talk, useless as it was to. That gag occupied my tongue, stubbornly taking up space in my mouth like an unwanted roommate, effectively preventing it from doing anything else, cruelly even. Though, they were right and I did need to wear it.

And then as my more calculated, careful and deliberate writhing, intended to maybe slowly tease a buckle or a strap loose, failed to produce any results, that would give way to aimless, furious thrashing as my arms fumbled and pulled around in the sleeves. Much as I fought desperately, that jacket was going nowhere, and I was to remain tethered to the bench. And all of my squirming met with the impersonal silence of the cell interior. But I had all the time in the world to fight with it anyway, in this endless, repetitive, and curiously exciting process.

And every now and again, as I struggled, I could feel myself stiffen up underneath the heavy canvas covering my waist, although frustratingly well out of my reach. Because the worst part of it all, I was finding, was that deep, deep down, a part of me delighted in this, and wanted it to go on forever. Which would no doubt lead to me sabotaging my own progress, creating my own setbacks, a prisoner of my own nature. Making me my own worst enemy.

I was going to make that nurse pay, oh yes, for forcing me to admit the unadmittable. And once he let me talk, I would make sure to tell him exactly what I thought! Even if I really was looking forward to seeing him again.