Get Mud on My Rubber Gear – Please
Last year was a hot dry Summer. It was only the end of June, annoying that the mud in the usual place was rock hard, dried to the point it needed a pick to break up. Too much work. Hiking another 1. 5 km we got closer to the river flood plain, deep in the bush less than a half mile from the junction of the Ottawa River. The grey wet muddy shoreline was at best only 3-5 m. The River itself was 10 to 12 m. across no more than 30 cm deep trickling over limestone rocks that were so easy to traverse. It looked as good as it was going to get get for the dry Summer of 2011.
My Montreal friend was a rubberist; familiar with indoor play but had written several times the past two months about getting outside and having some fun in the bush in a rubber bondage scene. We met in Ottawa and drove out to the river about a 40 minute drive, parked at the church and then a 30 minute hike down to the river bank, however once there it took me another 20 minutes just to find an open area. Standing on the shore deep in the bush, we took off the weighty knapsacks opened them spilling out rubber gear, rope, water bottles and some food.
Before leaving the house I recommended getting into some of the rubber gear. For me it was a light weight amber front zip latex shorty with black rubber gloves attached. I had made this item years ago just for hiking. Over top I pulled on my Red Ball rubber chest waders and a pair of black nitrile gloves over the attached rubber gloves. This was my usual warm weather gear for hiking along the river. My friend was wearing latex shorts and top. I loaned him my custom made blue drysuit with boot socks attached to put on over his shorts. It would be hot hiking in head to toes rubber but better to be fully covered than cooler feeding the mosquitoes and black flies. He fitted his Lacrosse hip waders over the drysuit and was all set to go. I pointed out he needed to wear his latex gloves too.
In the 40 minute drive to get to the secluded bush and river area I asked the friend what he wanted to do besides hike along the river banks and maybe wallow in some mud. He said he was up for anything. So I asked if he wanted to be tied nude spreadeagle on the ground and let the bugs bite him? No, no he replied and so I asked again what he wanted to do. He rambled a bit about getting buried in mud or at least stuck into and try and get out, some bondage, maybe being a prisoner doing a forced March. That gave me a few ideas.
Back on the river bank I pointed out it was very secluded and could do as we liked with no one to bother us. I had rope, knife water and some gloves in my knapsack which I pulled out and placed on top of the bag. My friend followed suit pulling out rubber gloves, rubber gag, gasmask hood, a swimming suit and a large one piece green pvc rainsuit. I suggested we could start play here and do some bondage to start if he wanted. He agreed and said it was okay if I wanted to do a prisoner scene.
It was much too hot to try and tackle the guy and make a forced tie up besides he was ready and wanting to get tied up without any resistance. I pointed to the one piece rainsuit lying on the ground and told him to put it on to protect the latex from damage. He pulled the green rainsuit on zipping it through the crotch zip up to the neck. He was getting very visually horny. With his rainsuit on sweat dripped from his forehead I handed him his big black rubber gauntlets with the smooth yellow rubber interior – like electrician’s rubber gloves. He pulled them on over his latex gloves. I asked if he was hot he replied he was fine no problem and ready to get tied up. Yes he was hot, sweaty, horny and more than ready on this windless warm hazy day. I told him his big rubber gloves might come off and that would not be good. Using the duct tape I dug out of my knapsack I had him hold out each arm so I could duct tape the top of his gloves to the his rainsuit pointing out to him that my gloves were attached to my suit and could not be pulled off.
The gloves taped on I reached for my outdoor rope, several lengths of braided Polypropylene. The mostly white rope with one blue strand through it was stained from the many times, years it was used on boys at this very location. Seeing me grabbing a length of rope the boy turned his back to me and put his arms behind. He was so cooperative. I told him to turn around and hold his arms out in front. He turned around and in a curious voice asked if it wasn’t better to not see the wrists as he would find it too easy to escape. I smiled and said it won’t happen Mr. Escape Artist.
Before we get started I asked if he had any concern with being a prisoner. He said no and that he was ready. I started tying wrists together in front, leaving an extra 3 metres or more of rope ends. With another rope I had him hold his arms out straight and made a chest harness crossing each shoulder and around the chest that tied in the middle of his upper back. The friend asked what the shoulder harness was for since I had not tied his arms to it. I said nothing as I reached for one of the wrist rope ends and pulled it between his legs up to the chest harness in the back, I pulled a bit more. He was now slightly bent over from the tension I kept the rope tight and tied it off to the shoulder harness at the centre of his back. He told me it was great and real horny having his hands in reach of his crotch. With a threatening tone in my voice I asked if there was anything else he wanted to tell me? He asked me what I was going to do with him? Was I going to tie his legs? Was he going to be rolled around on the mud flat? Oh boy I thought pushy bottom or not?
I grabbed the latex gag from his knapsack and stuffed it in his mouth and did it up at the back of his head. He mumbled he liked that too. I stopped listening to the noise and thought. Yes, the gasmask hood was perfect, he would overheat but at least would be quiet. I came up behind my friend, reaching over his head I hooked the opening of the rubber gas mask hood on his chin and pulled it over his head in one quick movement. The anxious noise coming form the gag told me this was a new level of play for the friend. I told him to shut up because he would need to think about breathing slowly so he would not hyperventilate. Ahh the sounds of silence. At last. I pulled the lacing up tight on the gas mask, there was no way to lock the collar on – darn.
He stood quietly as I went back to the rope work and wound more rope around his upper arms then cinched it off by passing the rope ends between each arm and his chest. This locked his arms to each side of his body. I took the remaining rope end hanging from his wrist restraint and pulled it through the chest harness and chest rope. Made a knot in the centre of his chest still leaving about a metre of rope hanging down. I put a large knot in the end of the rope and let it hang for now.
Cutting three short pieces of duct tape I attached them to the two lenses of the S-10 gas mask (I think it is an S-10). Not good enough I thought as the duct tape would let in too much light. I did not want him to see anything but blackness. I cut more duct tape to add a second layer over both lenses. That looked better and sounded better. He was standing still and very quiet.
Glancing at the rainsuit I noticed the pant leg was not a tight fit around the hip waders that were underneath. It took several wraps of ductape around each pant leg to seal them to the exposed portion of the hip waders. I did pull up the rainwear to give enough slack in the pant leg so the boy could bend his knee without ripping the suit. Ankles sealed as were the wrists. I did several wraps around the rainsuit collar and the gas mask hood to seal that too. The noise coming from inside the gas mask I totally ignored as I duct taped the collar.
I put some stuff in my knapsack and pulled it over my shoulder leaving his behind. Grabbing the loose rope end by the knot I gave a tug. He took one step forward and lost his balance but did not fall. Unable to see, and nothing to support or guide him he struggled to keep his balance. I guided him one step at a time just using the rope to pull him in the direction I wanted him to go. It took 5 minutes to pull him no more than 10 metres further down stream. The brush and swamp grass were right up to the river edge so it was easier to walk in the shallow water than on shore. Around the high clump of 2 metre high swamp glass I knew all about a small stream with soft mud flats going back perhaps 20 -30 metres from the main river. The stream and mud flats were not more than 10 metres across from the trees on either side but the stream itself went way back to a small pond much further back. At least this favourite spot was still a good deep mud spot to have some fun with the boy.
I looked back at the standing still boy rubbing his crotch as he waited for his next steps. I pulled the knapsack off my back and put it in the swamp grass so it would not get too muddy. I took out a very long rope, found the centre of the length and formed a Lark’s Head around the boys neck and tied it loosely leaving a long trail of one rope end resting on the mud flat. I also had a pressurized water bottle with me and hooked it into the drinking tube on his gas mask and told him to drink lots. I told him he had to work the nozzle between the edge of the gag at the side of his mouth in order to drink. It took several tries before he mastered that. Finished with the water I took the other rope length and went up to a nearby tree and tied it off leaving about 3 metres of the rope lying on the mud. I came up behind the friend and stated we were going to go for another walk but the mud would be deeper this time. I added he should walk as quick as he could so he wouldn’t sink too much. And with that I pushed him forward. We got 4 steps onto the mud flat and started to sink. I pushed him on and told him to take at least 3 more steps I pulled the rope ends that were loosely attached around his neck to make it easier for him. He got 3 more steps in. The rope end attached to the tree had only enough slack for one more step. He struggled to get his foot out of the mud and take another step. I was sinking up to my calves in the soft mud as I tried to move him forward. He could not take another step.
Taking the loose rope end I left him making my way across the little bit of muddy water and across the opposite bank of trees pulling the rope through the mud as I went. A large tree and fallen with the branches hanging out into the mud flat perhaps 2 metres no more from the stuck friend. I pulled the rope taking the slack out if it and tied it around the tree trunk. There was very little slack in the rope to say my friend was leaning over towards the tree from the tension on the rope at his neck. He was trying to take another step but the rope around his neck was allowing him to go anywhere. The more he tried to lift his feet the deeper he sank into the soft mud.
I passed by the friend and reached the other shore. Undid the rope around the standing tree trunk and pulled it tighter forcing the friend to stand up straight, I tied it off without any risk of choking. The sinking friend was tethered in the middle of the mud flat unable to move to either side. Having stirred up the soft clay from the many foot steps I was sinking much deeper into the mud than before as I went up to him. It took some extra time to pull my leg now thigh deep in the soft sucking gray clay. Methane smell was released with each step not too terrible smell but certainly the typical swamp smell that goes with playing in swamps and mud flats.
I reached the boy and asked him to nod if he was having a good time. The gas mask hood bobbed up and down to say yes. I then explained the rules of the game. He would have to try and escape and get back to solid ground and that could take hours. Once he escaped we would hike back to the car and head home. If he did not escape within 4 hours I would free him just enough we could get back to the car but he would have to stay in his gear for the remainder of the day and overnight before being let out. He groaned.
I went back to the edge of the mud flats found a nice spot to sit in the shade and watched the friend. He did very little for the first five minutes. He tried to pull his legs out of the mud but lost his balance each time only sinking deeper. The surface of the mud flat was level with his finger tips at his crotch. He struggled with the rope around the arms and wrists. He gyrated from side to side trying to work the chest rope down his arms. Nothing there. He tried to work on the wrist rope. I knew he could get that off eventually. With the sweat building up inside the thick two layers of gloves the rope would eventually slip off the compressed hot rubber. It took 20 minutes for that to happen. I sensed the friend’s relief at having the wrists free, the huffing sounds from the gas mask slowed as he relaxed.
Once again he tried to take a step but the mud was sucking him down. The gloved hands now free had little leverage to grab or reach out to help pull himself out of the mud. The chest harness and upper arm rope prevented him from moving his arm above the elbow. The attempt to free the legs only sunk him deeper in the mud, his crotch barely visible now. He tried reaching the rope holding his arms against his sides. The thick muddy rubber gloved finger tips could just reach the lower wrap of rope but not grab the rope and pull. He struggled a good 15 minutes trying to grab the rope. He was huffing again. I sensed the gas mask restricted his breathing as much as the heat build up in the struggle. He stopped and relaxed and waited to calm down. Again he tried to reach the rope and pull. It took 30 minutes of attempting to reach different parts of the rope but finally managed to grab the rope going between the opposite arm and chest and got some slack. He worked on that another 10 minutes and could feel the rope starting to slip over the elbow. He threw his forearm back and forth trying to work the rope over the elbow. Another 10 minutes and he finally got it off, He fell on his back lying on the mud flat his chest heaving from the effort. I watched and waited.
The mud was soft and wet, trying to stand up again was a struggle for him. His back was stuck in the suction grip of the mud. He got free, pulled the chest rope off the free arm and then worked on the other arm still tied to the chest. It took a few moments to get it free. Both arms now free he tried to pull the duct tape off the gas mask so he could see. The muddy thick gloves offered no means to find a way to grab an edge of the duct tape over the lenses. The same for the gloves the duct tape over the gloves had got muddy as well as the heat seemed to glue it to the nylon rainsuit. No amount of grasping or pulling could get a free end of duct tape. He tried to undo the lacing on the gas mask but soon realized it was all under the duct tape I wrapped around the collar. I smiled at being so cruel he really and no way out of his rubber cocoon.
Without being able to see, or remove his gloves he went back to freeing himself from the grey ooze. He started by lying face down on the mud and tried with little movements to pull his right leg out. There was a little movement but not much. He tried the left leg same thing. His foot was sliding inside the hip waders. He thought about pulling his feet out of the hipwaders and leaving them behind. He tried several times to pull his leg out – obvious to me as I smiled at the sight. I was just a couple metres away from him enjoying every moment of his struggles. He likely forgot I duct taped the rain suit to the boots to prevent him from pulling his legs out of the boots. Breathing rapidly at times the exhausted condensed breath could be seen floating over the cooler mud. The friend calmed down stood up, finding the rope attached to his neck he fumbled for a rope end and found none. He pulled the rope ends and only succeeded in choking himself.
He made several attempts at getting a leg out of the mud with no success. He looked exhausted I guessed he had been struggling for an hour and a half or more to get free at this point. Grey mud covered whatever parts of his rainsuit and gloves were visible, only the top of his gas mask hood was black. He fell on his back not caring if he stuck or not. I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I looked up now and then and noticed his legs were actually coming unstuck. I wondered if he knew what was happening. I knew exactly what was happening but did he?
A few moments later he struggled to stand up. His back was sucked into the surface mud and made any attempt to twist and use his hands to push up impossible. What he then noticed is he could move his feet. He started pushing and pulling one leg then the other. The thighs, and then the thick clay coated knees and calves broke the surface. The tip of one boot poked through the mud. He kept at it finally getting one leg free. Repeating the same process it took longer to get the left leg free but eventually he was successful. Both legs were on the surface. He sat up clapped his gloves together in triumph spattering mud over himself and his gas mask and some on me too. He got on is knees and tried to crawl. Oops he forgot the rope around his neck, Although the rope was not tight around the neck he could not pull it over the gas mask. He tried pulling on one rope then the other to see if there was any give so he could move. None.
Several attempts to undo the knot of rope at his collar was to no avail. His success was only getting the rope soaked in wet mud and doing that makes any knot impossible to undo without a lot of brute strength, even with bare hands that is hard to do. He tried pulling the gloves off but the duct tape was under a thick layer of wet and partly dried layers of mud on both arms. He had already tried to pull the gas mask hood off and the duct tape covering the lenses nothing worked. I detected he was getting frustrated and that could lead to heat exhaustion. Time to free him – a little.
Whether he heard me moving or not didn’t matter to me. I walked around the far end of the mud flat crossing over to the fallen tree I used to tie off one of the rope ends I undid the rope and left it beside the tree. I watched to see if he would notice anything different.
For perhaps 15 minutes he did little, he pulled on the rope that was till tied to the tree and with no give I guessed he gave up getting it free. As he did this he was not aware at first he was able to bend over without the other rope pulling on his neck from the opposite direction. He finally clued in grasping at the mud around him trying to find the rope end that was loose. Finally he had a sense his hand full of mud also held the rope. He pulled it away from the shore and figured the rope was free. At this point he grabbed the tied rope, hand over hand he pulled himself towards me. I let him pull himself up to the grass. He stopped and waited I guess for me to do something.
First I got a fresh water bottle hooked up to his gas mask and let him empty the bottle. I used a stick to scrap off a layer of mud stuck to the duct tape over his gas mask lenses. It was hard for me to get a corner of the tape. I used my knife to pry up a corner and finally be able to pull off the tape over both his eyes. He mumbled something I have no idea what. Whether he expected that I was going to remove the rest of his gear right there on the muddy flats or not mattered little, but certainly not.
He saw me smiling. I congratulated him at getting free. I think he thought he got free on his own. I told him it was time to hike back, I untied the rope, I slogged through the mud got the rope he left out at the hole he had made and dragged it back. I got him to coil it up with the mud on it and hold on to it – too muddy to put in a knapsack. Now he could see it was easier to go back the way we came. We stopped on the other side of the grasses where we had left his gear almost three hours earlier. Making sure we left nothing behind I pointed him to go up stream. We got 100 metres up stream and stopped. I pointed to the water and rocks stating best to wash the mud off and cool off.
We spent more than 30 minutes rubbing and scraping the mud off my waders and his rainsuit. He worked on his rainsuit and was trying to pull the masking tape off the gloves. I stopped him and said no wash every thing off leave the ductape. He seemed puzzled looking at me like I was being a cruel prick – well yes I was but that was the deal he was clearly beginning to understand. I went up to the grasses and pulled out two handfuls. Went back to the water and used the coarse grasses as a scrubber rubbing the remaining clay mud off my waders. The friend noticed and did the same sitting in the middle of the river letting the current wash away the mud. Finally clean enough to walk back and get to the car.
The hardest part in walking back to the car was going to be climbing up the river bank, It was a steep almost vertical climb only 6 metres or so but in the 2 metre high grass it was a real chore. I wanted to find the mostly covered trail I used in the past in hope of making it a little easier getting up. The climb was tough for me. My friend had equal trouble. Once on the flat grassy upper river bank we stopped to regain some cool and slow down the pounding heart and gasping breath. We had an 80 foot 20 % grade in front of us. At least it was an open path. We went slowly trying not to slip on the moss and clay underneath. Exposed tree roots offered the only footing to get up the hill. Finally on top of the world it was only 5 more minutes and we would be at the car.
I used plastic garbage bags to protect the car from the muddy knapsacks. I took a blanket out and put it on the drivers seat so any mud on my waders would not stain the leather seats. The friend was heading to the passenger car door. I called him back to where I was standing by the rear door on the drivers side of the minivan. There I explained that I had undone the rope around his neck so he could get free back at the mud hole. I don’t think he believed me but true or not I explained he could not sit in the front seat with his muddy clothes and here beside the highway was not a good place to strip in front of others going by. I had him sit on the door sill. I reached over him and pulled out a green tarpaulin bag from behind his back. I put it at his feet and told him to step in, this was the only way to keep the car clean. He complied. I pulled the bag up I handed him the edge of the bag and told him to stand up and help pull it up. He got it elbow high around him. I took each arm and pushed inside the bag pulled it up to his neck, then over his head, I used the small rope attached to the bag opening to tie it off. Enclosed inside the heavy green cotton duck bag he could do what he liked except escape. I took another rope and threaded it thought the loops sewn to the bag that was around his neck, I pulled it tight and knotted is so his head was caught between the collar and sealed bag opening. The bag itself had 8 grommets punched in the material to be used as air holes around the top of the bag. He could easily breath. I pushed him on his back forcing onto the floor of the van and swung his feet inside. I yanked him into the centre of the van and using clean rope tied him and the bag to the steel loops welded in the middle and outside edges of the floor, The loops were there to hold rear seats. (I removed the rear seats years ago so I had a large van space in the back.) He was anchored.
Checking that nothing was left behind I got in the driver’s seat, opened a thermos of coffee and poured a cup for myself. I put the thermos back, started the van up, got the a/c on and headed home. The bagged boy was pulled out of the bag in the garage, but not before being handcuffed. I led him into the house down to the basement. S joined me to help. I exchanged the hand cuffs for rigid steel wrist cuffs. I used padlocks and chain to hold the ankles. It took several minutes to get him into a safety harness and get it done up. I attached him to a rope hoist via the safety harness so he would not fall over while I removed the door to the Oubliette. I made sure he was clipped into the overhead hoist, I decided to add another chain around his knees and locked that in place, then locked the chain ends to the wrist restraint to the knees and then knees to the feet. I pulled him off the floor, totally suspended I pushed his legs over the opening in the floor and lowered him down. He struggled a lot I suspect a bit of panic. 5 feet down he stood his head at floor height I told him to sit as I lowered the remaining rope. I reached in and undid the rope from his harness an pulled the rope out. I dropped in three water bottles for drink. Closed the door locked it and left. He was still there the falling morning, no surprise there. I released him exactly 24 hours after we started the hike into the bush.
Too tired to complain, but his small exhausted smile said it all as S and I pulled him out of the Oubliette and and pulled off his gas mask hood. He was totally free from his rubber enclosure. I pulled off the piss drenched rubber shorts. A very happy friend indeed could be seen. Off to the showers.
And I am Dr. Mad Max
While the above is fiction it is a compilation of ideas from my many trips to the mud spot with friends. Some images you can see on my web site of us wallowing in the mud and another shows the mud flats I used as a setting for this story.