The modernization and commercial availability of the Internet in the early 1990s revolutionized the ways gay and bisexual men fostered community and connected with sex partners. Though slow speeds over dial-up (i.e., telephone lines) made it impossible for users to stream video pornography or engage in face-to-face video chatting (as is common today), the Internet became a remote yet vibrant venue for gay and bisexual men to engage in political discussion and social support, and to post and respond to personal ads.
A little bit about me. My name is Michael, but most people call me Mike. I am 5’10”, dark brown hair, and green eyes. While attending college In the mid 1990s, I was getting a lot of attention from both women and men. I spent a lot of time in the gym and had a a sturdy, muscular physique. I wore a lot of western wear including Wrangler jeans, size 29” x 32”, which fit my robust glutes and I had a collection of cowboy boots. I still had a mullet hairstyle, an iconic look in the 1980s, which features short hair in the front, sides and top with extra length in the back. I was often told that I resembled Clint Black. After graduating college with an accounting degree, I began working for an accounting firm in New Orleans, Louisiana. I purchased a home in small town just outside New Orleans.
I became addicted to viewing photos of men in bondage via the Internet. Eventually, I decided I wanted to connect with men with similar sexual fantasies pertaining to BDSM. In 1999, Recon was launched. Like many other gay dating apps, Recon allowed users with various fetishes and kinks to create a profile, communicate with other members through private messages, and filters members by location and interests. I pondered for a long time if I should post a profile.
Once, I attempted the art of self-bondage in my own home. This would be my second attempt. My first attempt was more than five years earlier and…well…didn’t go as plan. Self-bondage is characterized by experimentation and ingenuity of the practice of confining yourself and can be riskier than conventional bondage. The decision I made one evening to attempt self-bondage a second time was partly because I just wanted the experience of being restrained and partly because I thought of a creative way to use a stolen jockstrap in a self-restraint scenario.
The subject of my theft was a guy named Joe. I did not know him personally. He was just a guy who worked out at my gym. He was so handsome. Probably in his mid-forties and a corporate type…a daddy type. Sort of looked like Burt Reynolds. Short brown hair with grey at his temples, thick mustache, hairy chest and legs, but his ass and stomach were smooth. Brown eyes..no…hazel eyes. Joe was a little over six feet tall. A strong physique and a relatively low amount of body fat. We showered one day together in the gym shower…rinsing off the sweat after a workout..and I felt we had a connection…a sense of familiarity…a sense of closeness. At least I think we had a connection. I mean, he smiled at me…I thought…while lathering his body with soap…winked at me as he gently washed his thick and uncircumcised one eyed willy and furry beanbag…I believed…smirked as he watched my penis swell…I hoped. He was such a tease…a flirt.
Anyway, on the day of my petit crime, I had just entered my gym and I noticed Joe was walking in the locker room after working out. He was wearing neon yellow and black striped spandex gym shorts, black tank top, loosely tied white Reebok Pump sneakers and black ankle socks.
I trailed behind Joe since I was about to change into my gym clothes. I conveniently got a locker near his locker. He stripped down to only his jockstrap. Not only did the snug fit and lift of the athletic supporter add hefty definition to Joe’s genitals, but also made his butt and thighs look firmer and more defined. Joe knew I was watching him. He stretched…he slowly dried the sweat from his chest with a gym towel…he bent down to dry his legs…exposing his rusty bullet hole…he spread his legs…giving me a look at his sweaty taint between his anus and scrotum…watching his swaying junk in the embracing pouch of his jock sock. He sat down on the same bench where I was perched which made a slap noise as his moist mounds made contact with the faux wood surface. I was hoping he would talk to me, but he only glanced over and smiled. Joe stood up, slid off his cotton junk armor and used it to wiped the sweat from his face. Ffffuuuuccckk. That was hot! He was semi-erect and his man eggs were drawn. Beautiful. You can tell he is proud of his family jewels due to the impeccable manscaped pubic area, but leaving his balls natural…hairy…manlike. I wonder if he was aroused because he had a sense that I was ogling him. He simply dropped the athletic supporter on his discarded gym clothes on the floor and headed to the showers. With no one as a witness, I snatched the jockstrap, shoved it in my gym bag and proceeded to change into my workout clothes. I locked my gym bag in a locker and made my way to the weight area. I wonder if he missed them after he took his shower or just changed and shoved his sweat-drenched workout clothes and sneakers in his gym bag without noticing the dirty jockstrap was missing. Later, I had wished I had taken his ankle socks as well.
I retrieved my prize possession from my gym bag when I got home. The soft and breathable material was soaked with sweat…maybe piss…maybe precum. I held it up to my nose and took a big whiff. Ssashhhhiiittt. Amazing. J-strap sniffing…inhaling the odors from an unlaundered jockstrap…weird how it gave me a sense of sexual stimulation. I guess I have a thing for a jockstrap since I regard it as a sign of sexual availability, phallic prowess, old-time masculinity, and empowerment. It was then I decided I wanted to tie myself up and use the jockstrap as a gag. First, I gathered up some old silk neckties, duct tape as well as the jockstrap and threw them all on the bed. Next, I put in a male bondage VHS tape produced by Tom “Ropes” McGurk that played on the television in a cabinet on the wall opposite of my bed. I stripped off my gym clothes. I was still damp from working out. I’ll clean up after I get off.
I tied the thick tail end of a silk necktie to each post on my cheap metal IKEA king size four-poster bed. I climbed onto the bed. First, I needed to gag myself. I wadded up the dirty cotton jockstrap and shoved it in my mouth. Sssssshhhhhhiiittttt! Tasted salty, earthy, and umami-rich; a little like truffles. What a rush! The sensation of flavor perceived in my mouth and throat on contact with Joe’s athletic support undergarment for his genitals gave me a feeling of closeness with Joe. I immediately thought how Joe looked wearing the briefs with no backing…sweaty…hot. Then I ripped off three long pieces of duct tape and taped my mouth shut. Next, I spread my legs wide and tied each ankle in granny knots with the narrow ends of the neckties. I formed a loop in the end of each neckties that were secured to the head of the bed, prepared a bight (curved section) in the short ends of the necktie, and tucked the bight through the loops. I read on an Internet BDSM site that the use of a slip knot, also known as a stopper knot, which is easily undone by pulling the tail, is the best binding knot for self-bondage. I laid my head on two pillows. I reached my left arm up, worked my left hand in the loop of the necktie and pulled. The sound the silk fabric made as the knot of the short end of the necktie tightened around my wrist caused me to experience a slight prickling in my balls.
I used my right hand to stroke my cock as I watch the porn video. I was fantasizing that the dom in the video was Joe and I was the sub. Joe had kidnapped me…bounded me in different ways…fucked me. I am desperate to feel a hard cock penetrate my anus…if so, I would grind my hips in order to push some guy’s sausage further inside. I want to experience the sensation of having my prostate stimulated. I want to know what it is like to have a guy pump all his gooey jizz deep in my anorectal canal. I edged myself for more than an hour. What a beautiful straight prick…thick…maintains pretty much the same shape from shaft to head…skin is slightly darker, with a brown hue down there…uber-accentuated veins…scrotum is smooth and elongated, but slowly drawing up as my cremaster muscle contracts. Oh yea! I grab my own balls…my aching balls…a heavy sensation in and around my testicles…since there is an increase in blood flow to my penis and testicles so that I can get an erection…since I have been using a masturbation technique to prolong…edging…I have developed “blue balls”, due to a build-up of pressure in the tube-shaped organ that carries sperm from my testicles…more and more blood flow in the testicles…manufacturing sperm like crazy.
Each time I was close, I would slip my right hand in loop of necktie to my right without pulling and pretended it was drawn taut. I wanted to climax at the same time the sub in the video shoots his load. It was almost time. I decided to slip my right hand in the in loop one last time. Suddenly, a warm feeling rush through my body and every muscle in my body began to spasm. Oh shit. I was about to experience a hands-free orgasm. I could feel my balls throbbing from within and tighten up. Suddenly I felt a tingle coursed through my penis as it propelled reproductive fluid in the air which landed over my abdomen as well as some on my chest, face, bed and pillows. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “yeah…yeah…yeahhhhhhh”, but Joe’s man strap in my mouth muffled my hollering. It was so load blowingly good!
As I floated around in ecstasy, I pulled all four of my limbs during the sudden release of accumulated sexual excitement. I heard zzziiippp, the familiar sound I heard earlier, as the knot in the silk tie tightened around my right wrist. Shit! I accidentally secured my right wrist. Oh. Oh. Ooooohhhh Fffffuuuuccckkk! I was in a classic spreadeagled position…arms and legs separated…extending to the four corners of the bed…like a starfish…fully restrained…leaving my nude body entirely accessible…my cock still bubbling grayish white bodily fluid…secreting from my heaving gonads…my gut was glazed like a donut with my own jism. Oh. Oh. Ooooohhhh Fffffuuuuccckkk! I’m not finished. I think I’m going to pop another load. I momentarily forgot my self-confinement problematic situation and attempted to stroke my cock, but had no use of my right hand. How did I get myself in mess? Bound…gagged…helpless. I should have know better. I thought about all the stories that I read in Bound & Gagged over the years regarding guys who tied themselves up and didn't get out. Oh shit! Now I’m thinking about some of those stories…being discovered by perverted family member…an older brother who wants to see how it feels to fuck his baby brother’s asshole….wicked stepfather who wants to inflict pain on stepson’s genitals…a sadistic grandfather who decides to punish his grandson by edging him for hours. This sticky situation was going to cause me to have condensed multiple orgasms…instead of one big cum dump I could have achieved if I was able to give myself a five knuckle shuffle…beat my meat…stroodle my noodle…shake the snake…oh…oh…oh…here it comes…my cock seemed harder….pulsing more…pressure was building…my heart rate was increasing…feeling muscular contractions in my the base of my tube steak…feeling I have reached the point of no return…just before it started, I experienced a feeling of inevitability. “Mmmuuuffff….mmmuuufff…aaaaaahhhh!” My back was arched backwards…my cock was swaying…I was slinging seminal fluid everywhere. Wait. Wait. Wait! One more…one more…oh…one….one…one…ahhhhhh! I was having involuntary pelvic thrusting. One last stream of egg whitish watery substance shot straight up in the air and splashed back on my sexual reproductive organs. I have never experienced such intense pleasure…climaxing in such rapid successions…the transition from one to the next seeming instantaneous. The build up…the anticipation…the excitement…the hormone rush. For just seconds, I was so relaxed…basking in the afterglow. Then I was hit with overwhelming fear…feeling trapped…believing that control over my situation or its outcomes is impossible…thoroughly secured with my arms and legs spread wide apart…my mouth gagged with an ever-expanding jock strap which only increased my sense of helplessness and anxiety level.
What have I done? I was floundering helplessly…trying to reach the knots securing my wrist…trying to pull my legs free..trying to dislodge the gag. I remained bound in a spread-eagle position and there is nothing I can do to get away. I can’t explain the lustful adrenaline rush and sense of panic when I realized it was inescapable. This has “marathon session” written all over it. I began thinking how this will play out. I won’t show up for work the next day and no one can reach me by phone. Eventually, someone will call the sheriff’s department and request a wellness check. Oh shit. Some sheriff’s deputy will have to break-in and will find me bound and gagged with crusty semen all over me. What will he do…laugh…verbally abuse me…smack my exposed balls…give me a taint job…suck my dick…play with my nipples…tell me how sexy I look? Ffffuuuuucccckkk! I am imagining Joe dressed in a sheriff’s deputy uniform and he is having his way with me. My heart was racing, my palms were sweating and my head was spinning. I am getting a fuddy chubby again. Being unable to touch myself, was unbearable. Ooohhhh ffffuuuucccckkk.
My VCR machine has an auto rewind feature so I will be forced to watch the same porn video over and over. I will probably cum again…maybe multiple times…oh shit….I was experiencing a mixture of ecstasy and trepidation. I can’t believe I got myself in this situation…no sort of safety measure in place…oh…oh…not so soon…I’m not even fully erect…uuuuuhhhh…ball milk began shooting out of my willy in several spurts…feeling a less powerful wave of pleasure than before. I just had a short-interval second ejaculation. A few minutes later, I had the same sensation, but there was no throbbing….no pumping. It felt as if the semen was right within the place where the head of my penis and shaft meets, but nothing came out. I just had a dry orgasm…feeling slightly uncomfortable…even irritating. My muffin cap looked swollen and purple.
Luckily, my struggles disengage the knotted part of the necktie tied to the right bedpost. My right leg was free. It was the break I needed to be able to maneuver myself toward the left of the headboard so I could pull off the duct tape from my face with my left hand, pulled the jockstrap out from my mouth and the use my teeth to untie the knot binding my left wrist. Then I was able to untie myself completely. What a relief. It was then I decided I needed a bondage buddy with benefits. Someone who had an interest in BDSM, possibly safe sexual intercourse, but has no interest in being in a committed relationship.
That same evening, I posted a profile on Recon indicating I was a novice sub looking for a man who could “show me the ropes.” In my list of interests, I included bondage as well as masters and slaves role play. I noted that I was not looking for intercourse. I thought that this may deter men looking for just butt sex from responding to my post. I included a photo of me at the beach wearing board shorts and sunglasses while holding a beer can.
The next day of posting my profile, I received a message. A man who said his name was Rick claimed he like my profile and thought I looked hot in the photo. Rick said he was in an “somewhat open marriage”, but the only degree of sexual interaction outside their marriage his wife tolerated was Rick meeting men for the purpose of “bondage games.” He claimed he does not identify as “gay or bi” since he does not engage in sexual activities with other men, but does get a “high” when he is able to tie up a guy and rendered his escape impossible. For him, it was a fun male bonding experience that builds emotional closeness, trust and camaraderie. Rick wrote in message that I had the perfect body for bondage. I immediately got a hard-on. I thought this would be a great opportunity to try out bondage with another dude without sex. We made plans to meet the following evening at a local fast food restaurant just a few miles from my home. He described himself as an average size white male in his early 50s with auburn hair and beard. Rick said he would be driving a new Mercedes-Benz.
The following day, it was hard to concentrate at work. I was anxious and excited. I was trying to decide if I should rent a hotel room or host in my home, what I should wear and if I needed to purchase supplies. I forgot to ask Rick if he had bondage gear. We did not discuss length of time we would play, limits and other stuff that is probably important to discuss before meeting for a bondage session. Of interest, he did asked me about my shoe size which I told him was an eight.
Due to poor concentration, I had not finished an annual financial report before the end of the business day so I had to work late. All I could think about is being bound and gagged by a hunky guy…being worshipped…forcing me to enjoying cycles of increasing sexual stimulation…touching….tugging….squeezing….kissing…nibbling…sucking on my brownish pink torpedo…and then stopping just before the point of orgasm. In Rick’s messages, he said he wasn’t into being intimate with another man, but would “edge” me as a payoff for letting him physically restraining me. I really didn’t know what he meant, but was certain he will get carried away when he sees how hot I look in the nude…even better in ropes…the finest straight veiny cock…chody balls…bounceable butt….his own helpless fetish model…so he will probably want to do more than giving me a five knuckle shuffle. I was hard and leaking most of the day. After I finished the report, I ran to my vehicle and started driving to the fast food restaurant. I didn’t have time to go home to shower and change my clothes; so Rick would have to meet me in what I wore to work which was a dark blue suit, white button-down shirt, red and blue stripped tie, thin blue nylon socks and black leather tassel loafers. Yikes! I was wearing old whitey tighties that had holes. Yea. Rick will probably think I am a nerd. I had planned to wear blue jeans, black t-shirt, and black needle pointed cowboy boots as well as silky micro modal and stretchy spandex black boxer briefs. I had thought that once we started discussing details of our BDSM session together, I would ask his preference for my clothing. Fully dressed, wearing only my boxer briefs or jockstrap. I am hoping he will choose the jockstrap option since I wanted the opportunity to wear Joe’s unwashed man strap. Hummm. Would that send the wrong message that I was open for business…ready for a pump and dump…wanting him to drill for mud?” I don’t care. I wanted to be naughty…wear something I had stolen…something that will remind me of my man crush…my buns completely exposed. Fuck! I am horny as hell! I wish I had time to jack off. You know what, fuck it! I am wearing the jockstrap.
Luckily, I arrived a few minutes early. Inside the restaurant, there was only one customer, a young police officer, in the dining area. I took a seat at a table which was far enough so the police officer would not be able to hear our conversation. A few minutes later, a Mercedes-Benz pulled into the parking lot. In what seemed like an eternity before the driver exited the vehicle. The driver was a very tall, heavy-set and unattractive man wearing an untucked flannel shirt, faded jeans, trucker style baseball cap and dirty wedge work boots. Why is he so disheveled? I figure it was Rick since he had auburn hair and beard, but surely did not look like someone who would be driving a luxury vehicle.
When he walked in, he spotted me immediately, forced a smiled and waved. He noticed the police officer and went to speak to him. They engaged in a short conversation and shook hands before joining me at the table. Rick explained the police officer was someone he hired at times to provide security when he has special events at his plantation. I guess he is just an eccentric rich dude who does not take a great deal of pride in his appearance.
My sixth sense was telling me to run, but I just felt I needed to see this through. I made up a story that I forgot I had made plans to meet friends for drinks later in the evening so I would only have an hour to play. Rick said he thought a short session would be best since it was our “first” time. Against my better judgement, I told him to follow me home.
Once I arrived home, I open the electronic garage door and we both pulled in our vehicles. I closed the garage door since I did not want neighbors to see that I had guest, especially someone who looked a little scary. I escorted him to living area. His heavy boots clomping on my hardwood floors…leaving traces of dried mud. I noticed he had a duffel bag and a shopping bag. I assumed it was all bondage gear.
Rick said since we only had an hour, we should begin our session. He explained he was going to use rope, duct tape and other stuff. Rick said to let him know if I was uncomfortable once I was bound and/or wanted to stop the session. All I would have to do is say “no” or shake my head if I was gagged and he would immediately untie me. Rick said he did have a special request. He wanted me to change in something more comfortable that he brought. Rick handed me the shopping bag with items inside and gently pushed me in a guest room just off the living room. He said that while I was getting ready, he would sort his bondage gear and be ready to start the session as soon as I change my clothing.
Once I was alone in the guest room, I took off my suit, dress shirt, shoes, and business OTC socks. I dumped the contents of the shopping bag on the bed and was shocked. There was a black double laced thong (at first I thought it was female lingerie, but it had a pouch for a man’s junk), pair of black thigh-high stockings in transparent mesh fabric with lace on the upper part and black Victorian-inspired lace-up stiletto heel booties with sharp pointy toes. No. No. No.
I asked Rick join me in the bedroom. Before I could ask him anything, he admitted he had a fetish for sexy lingerie and high heels. For reasons he could not explain, it was a turn on for him to see a man wearing feminine unmentionables and stilettos so he could imagine he was actually tying up a woman, something his wife would not allow him to do to her or any other woman. He also said other men he played with had initial similar reservations, but after trying it, loved it. Rick encouraged me to try something outside my comfort zone. I was brought up to be a good host so I will give my guest what he wanted. I decided to just put the shit on, let him tie me up, and then after a few minutes; I would come up with a reason to end the session. After I said, “Fine!”, Rick patted me on my shoulder and returned to the living room.
I stripped off my shoddy briefs and put on the thong. I was surprised that my cock and balls fit snuggly in the super soft stretch lace pouch. It was odd, but exhilarating, looking down and seeing my meat and two veggies encased in a delicate fabric with an open designed and floral pattern. I bet it will leave skin indentations on my bits and pieces. Next, I struggled to put on the stockings and worked to ensure the seam in the back of the stocking were straight. Finally, I slipped on the booties and laced them. (Now I know why he asked my shoe size.) I struggled to walk to a full-length mirror and to my surprise, it was not horrible. I sort of felt I was dressed like the Rocky Horror Picture Show’s character, Dr. Frank-N-Furter. I admired my body including my hairy chest, puffy nipples in the middle of nicely round pale pink areolas, and a thin vertical strip of hair running from my belly button down to my trimmed pubic region. I turned around and noticed how my ass and calves looked larger than I remember, which may be due to the stiletto heels. I bent forward, put my hands on my knees and did a little butt flapping (now known as twerking). I was getting aroused, but I didn’t want to touch my own genitals. I was worried that since I had not pulled on and stoked my joystick for more than 24 hours, I would have a premature ejaculation. (I tend to masturbate at least 5 times a day.) I am very proud of my jewels…my 7” dick when hard…4.6” erect girth with a large perfectly shaped mushroom tip. I love my huge balls…so heavy that they hang down a couple of inches when I am not sexually aroused, but when I am; they will draw up tight and cradle my dick so it points straight. After a second thought, maybe the fact I am a little humiliated; it add to my first experience with bondage. I actually loved the way the way the lightweight and breathable thong was holding my masculinity near my body. They additionally cause my whole junk to seem bigger and heftier. Fuck it. Let me tug on my meat…just a couple of times…maybe wrap my cock with one of my socks to catch my juice. Maybe if I cum, I will think more clearly…prevent myself from taking part in Rick’s shenanigans. I pulled down the thong and shoved my sock in the opening of my dress sock. One…two…yea…three…hum…four…ok…ok…five…oh…oh…I feel like I’m close….six. Then I heard Rick yell, “Ready? Do you want me to come to you?” I screamed, “Oh. No. Coming.” Shit! I was cumming…or least close. I threw the sock filled with thick clear fluid similar to semen on the bed, pulled the thong back up and squeezed my nuts with the hope that it would help me loose my erection. Shit! It isn’t getting smaller. Laying flat to the right against my pelvis due to the tight fitting fabric of the man panties. It is what it is.
I walked awkwardly into the living room…face flushed…erection and all. Rick just sneered and told me to completely turn around so he could take it all in. I complied and once I was facing him, he said he would start by simply binding my hands behind my back. He sauntered behind me and whispered in my ear that I looked good in “the ass out undies.” I could smell the odor of alcohol on his breath. Even though I was wearing high tapered heels, Rick was towering over me. He took a piece of hemp rope, about 6 feet long, from the duffle bag. He folded it with the ends in his right hand and went behind me.
As Rick was fiddling with the rope, he asked about my infatuation with bondage. I described myself as a type ‘A’ and constantly needing to be in charge. For reasons unknown to me, my guilty pleasure is fantasizing about being kidnapped, tied to a pole in a barn, and all sorts of similar scenarios. I told him that I believe the best part of being bound is being helpless…not being able to move…unable to speak…letting someone else be in charge…doing pleasurable things to my exposed body. Rick asked if I had ever told anyone else about such desires. I told Rick that he was the first person I ever told about my yearning to be at another person’s mercy…relinquish control to a…a…a dominant man. Rick asked, “So, you didn’t tell anyone about our planned meeting? That no one knows I am here and I’m going to tie you up?” I laughed and said I definitely did not tell another soul. Why did I say that?
Rick asked for me to cross my wrist behind me. He roughly wrapped the doubled-up rope around my wrist multiple times. When there was a foot of rope left, he separated the ends, slipped one end under a piece of rope around my wrist, wrapped the ends of the separated rope in opposite directions between my wrist a few times, pulled tightly, and then knotted the rope at the top of my wrists (out of reach of my fingers). This way, each wrist was restrained next to each other with no give which prevented me from slipping my wrist free and/or loosen by wiggling my wrist back and forth. During the time my wrist were being tied, my fingers brushed against Rick’s crotch and I could feel he was blessed with a huge talent. I attempted to remind him of the set limits regarding no intercourse. “Oh. Sorry. I huummmfff.” Rick silenced me with a hand over mouth technique and he shushed me. Why was I worried? Rick is not gay. His thing is just the bondage…practicing his craft of restraining someone. Thankfully, he specifically wrote in previous messages he sent via Recon messaging platform that he was not into sex, much less gay sex. I guess it is not necessary to inform that he is prohibited from sticking his enormous schlong in my mouth or virgin asshole. Rick took a step back, lightly placed his fingertips under my asscheeks, and bounced them around in all directions. He laughed and said something under his breath like, “Fucking asstastic. Lucky shit. What I would have given to have well-defined buns like those when I was young.” My penis was enlarging due to filling up with blood…as I was sexually aroused…becoming firm…feeing uncomfortable and confining in my underwear. I wanted to shyly adjust my package without Rick noticing…but, I can’t…my hands are useless…my wrist are tied together…my bound hands remained resting on my upper buttocks.
Rick then walked away and entered the bedroom where I changed. I tested the rope binding my wrist and quickly realize I will not be able to get loose. No give…can’t feel the knots. Damn. He is good. I am practically powerless. Wait! What is he doing? Panic set in due my problematic situation since I thought Rick went looking for valuables including my wallet on the bed in that bedroom. I yelled to Rick to untie me since I changed my mind. He returned to the living room without saying a word. Rick had a with a scowl on his face. He had one of my dress socks rolled in a ball. Rick went to his duffle bag and retrieved a roll of duct tape and a large bowie knife. I yelled, “What the fuck? I’m done. Get the fucking rope off me!” He got in my face, placed the knife under my testicles, told me to “fucking open wide faggot”, and then he forcibly shoved the moist sock in my mouth. I wondered if it was the spunk sock or was it the other one that was just wet with sweat. As Rick made sure every bit of the sock was packed in my trap, I quickly realized it was the sock soaked in my own hot moist perspiry sap from wearing tight dress shoes for twelve hours and sticky stinky pre-ejaculatory fluid.
I guess I was in shock since I didn’t immediately spit out my sock, but compliantly held it in mouth. Since it was an over-the-calf sock, it was a lot of nylon and cotton material filling my mouth. Wait! He is not following the rules. I told him I was done, but instead of releasing me; he is silencing me. I probably should have tried to reason with him, but I didn’t want my balls to be slashed. Rick then slid the knife between the strap of the thong and my hip so it could rest there, out of my reach, as he began wrapping duct tape across my mouth and around my head several times. He finally ripped the duct tape away from the roll and patted all around the duct take to make sure all the sticky tape was doing its job. “Mmmm. Mmuufff. Mm. Mm.” My lips were sealed tight and the taut duct tape wrapped across my face forced my puffy cheeks, due to the sock in my mouth, to be pushed in causing the dress sock to fill inside any vacant space in my mouth. I could taste my own salty feet sweat, leather from the loafers I had been wearing for hours, a hint of aged cheese and sweet undertone of the precum that oozing down my throat…sliminess like half-raw egg white. Rick said, “This is my favorite type of gag. Turns no, no, no into sexy mm mm mm.” Instinctively, I fruitlessly shook my head back and forth as if the motion would loosen the tape so I could discard the mucky sock from my mouth. He then spun me around, covered my gagged mouth with one of his massive hands and pulled the back of my head in his chest. With his other hand, he began rubbing my belly and then my chest. Why is he touching me in an intimate manner? “Mmmmuuufff….mm...mm…mm.” He then took the knife from my waistband and tossed it in his duffle bag. Rick pulled out a piece of rope, 6 and/or 8 feet long, knelt in front of me, forced my feet together, and bound my ankles just as he did with my wrist. I was struggling to stand without falling since the heels were so high and I balancing my weight on the balls of my feet and toes. A couple of times, Rick’s hat that he was wearing brushed against the tip of my penis. The pouch of the thong cupped my balls and kept my now flaccid dick pointing straight. His hands caressed my legs and he said, “Look at you pansy. Wearing these silky…shiny…glossy stockings. Gives your legs a wet look. Nice, strong and defined legs. Fucking thick and tight calves.” Before he stood up, he look directly at my crotch area and started flickering his long tongue in and out of his mouth like a snake and smacking the head of my soft cock multiple times. Oh shit! This is gay stuff! Rick said he wasn’t gay! I could feel my member becomes engorged with blood and enlarged as he was smacking my mushroom tip causing the lace fabric to expand. Rick was holding my calves in his massive calloused hands in order to steady me. Ok. Ok. Maybe everything will be fine and he is not going to rob me. It is all part of the experience. Rick wants me to feel helplessness, fear, and ecstasy. He will probably end the scene as soon as I ejaculate. It won’t take long. I looked down and could see pre-cum oozing through the lace fabric and I could hear Rick making yummy noises as he was tasting the fluid that was sticking to the pointed tip of his tongue. He reached up and gently stroked my balls...light and delicate. The silk smoothness of the thong reduced friction against the tender skin of my testicles and Rick’s calloused fingertips…providing a soothing sensation…a luxurious feeling. My scrotum was contracting, causing my testicles to move closer to the body, causing them to swell and get hot. This change in temperature was starting sperm production and I knew with a little more help from Rick, sperm would soon be shooting out of my pee hole. I’m not complaining, but Rick said there would be no sexual contact. Obviously, it felt great. However, it was concerning that if he lied about that; what else has he lied about. Was he just role playing or is he a sociopath? What have I gotten myself into?
For a minute, I forgot the gravity of the situation. My big head was no longer thinking of the seriousness of the situation since my little head had taken over and was thinking it was extremely important that Rick give me a mouth hug or a sausage handshake. I began begging Rick to suck or jerk me off since there is no way for me rub one out, but rather than words; I sounded like a whining puppy. “Uuuuhhh. Huh. Eee. Mmmmm.” He just laughed and moved away from me. I was standing there with a large drop of clear, colorless, syrupy fluid dangling about ten inches from the top of the teepee in my thong caused by my fully erect dick. I could feel dampness under my balls and in the line down the middle of my scrotum due to scrotal sweating. I was thankful I remembered to shave my balls this morning.
Rick sat on the couch and made a phone call. Of course, I could only hear his side of the conversation. He said, “Well I got us a hot one. He is trussed up like a turkey and is ready to be delivered. No. No. I didn’t have to rough him up. Funny thing. When I met him, there was a cop. I made small talk with the pig and this sap thought we were friends. I think it helped with him trusting me to invite me in his home and fucking letting me tie him up. Yea. Yea. How would I describe him? Well, he looks better in person than the photos he posted. Yea. Definitely like a rich frat boy. Nope. Not any fat. Well, except his fatty-bo-batty ass. Oh yea. A super jiggly booty…grabbable…soft…ripe. It will give you serious wood. Hee! Hee! Yea. Nice pink zipper sausage and big nuts. Yea. I think he has a hoodless cobra. I’m looking at the little faggot’s package…yea…he has on the banana hammock on…and…I can see an outline of round head. So, I am going to use his car to transport him since the Mercedes may have been reported stolen. Yea. Yea. It is a Jeep Cherokee with illegally dark tinted windows. No one will be able to see him in the back. Hold on. Do you want him to tell you how excited he is for his surprise?” My mind was racing. Wait! I am going to be kidnapped? It is for ransom? Am I going to be killed? Since it is a Friday, it will be days before anyone knows I am missing since I had no plans with anyone during the weekend. He then walked over to me, held the phone to my face and instructed me to tell this person how this is the best day of my life.” I tried to yell, “Please let me go. I won’t report this to the police. Please!” However, what the individual heard was a barely audible, “eeeess mmm oo hum eees eees.” Rick laughed and hung up. I started losing my erection. Oh shit! Oh shit. I’m going to be taken as a hostage. Why am I going to be taken against my will? How can I get myself out of this situation? Shit! Shit! I don’t have the freedom of movement..ability to scream for help. Motherfucker! I started crying uncontrollably and hopping in place. Rick laughed as he stared at my bobbing crotch enwrapped in the bulge enhancing man panties and listening to my booty claps. He said, “Whatcha doing? A little thong-tease dance? Hum? Thinking you can hop away. Escape? Just calm the fuck down. Accept the fact you ain’t going free yourself. Now. It is your choice if you live or die. Make me happy…be a good little fairy, and you live. If you don’t, then you will be alligator bait.”
Rick then began using his hands to explore my body. He said, “One fucking drop-dead gorgeous hostage. Stupid, but stunning. If you want me to free you, all you have to do is ask nicely. Just say please. Oh yea. Can’t, can you? You have a slobber sock shoved in your kisser. I bet when you were putting on your fancy business socks on this morning that you had never imagined that one would be used as a mouth stuffing gag…preventing you for yelling for help…preventing you from speaking…preventing you from objecting to anything I do to you.” He used both hands to massage my chest and shortly thereafter, began pinching my nipples firmly at the root and rolling each nipple between his thumbs and index fingers as if was tuning a radio. Rick lowered his face to my chest and put my right erect nipple in his mouth and nursed it like a suckling pig. With his right hand, he followed my goody trail to my crotch and then began lightly rubbing the tip of my penis in a circular motion which caused more pre-cum to leak through the lace fabric. I tried to pull away as I shook my head no. He straightened up and suddenly slapped my semi-erected penis. “Don’t shake your disapproval noggin little boy like you actually have a choice to refuse or reject what I want to do to you. Your’e my fucking prisoner…hee…hee…my sex slave.”
Next, Rick reached around my head with one hand and pinched my nose with his other hand…restricting airflow. I attempted to break his grip by squirming and even going limp, but he just held my head in place. I began feeling lightheaded and dizzy. He released my nose and in the immediate aftermath of suffocating, my body confused the rush of endorphins and hormones as a positive, pleasurable thing. Then I experienced an overwhelming fear…knowing my life could be snuffed out very easily. This action really let me know how really helpless I was since I could not fend Rick off. How stupid am I? I knew from this point on, I would need to accept and yield to his superior force in order to survive…don’t fight as he…ooohhh….as he brutally rapes me. I fantasized so many time of being kidnapped…used for erotic bondage…being edged for hours…but never fantasized anything violent. This guy is predatory psychopath…lacking of moral responsibility…totally self centered, amoral and opportunistic…maybe a sexually sadistic killer…a Jeffrey Dahmer…a John Wayne Gacy. Not hard now. The cremaster muscle in my testicles have contracted, pulling my testicles tighten up and my flaccid cock is resting…pointing forward…the outline of my mushroom tip visible. As I moved around…trying to keep my balance…the pouch that cradled my genitals was jolting around in different directions. Rick snickered and called out, “That’s a big bouncing bulge you got there boy. Those lace panties…hum…well, let’s just say…great choice…love the way you look…exposed, uncomfortable, and vulnerable.” He reached over, grabbed my crotch and moved it back and forth and then with a rotary motion. Rick then gripped my fleshy tip encased in lace sharply between his finger and thumb while watching my facial reaction….my furrowed brows, tightened eyelids, and wrinkled nose.
Rick collected all his belonging in his duffle bag, grabbed my car keys and went into the garage. I thought this might be a chance to escape, but how? I can’t hop around wearing these hooker heels and if I fall, I could kill myself. I can’t reach a phone and even if I could dial a phone, I can’t speak. Also, I didn’t want to feel the wrath of Rick if he catches me trying to escape him so I just stood there like a lamb to the slaughter. I am bound-up…powerless…defenseless…unsafe… practically exposed. It was as if I was waken from a nightmare, and I began to wail, but the hearable noise sound like, “eeeew hhhuuuummm um um um.” Tears began rolling down my face. Why am I such a fucking trusting soul? I will be forced to go with this maniac. I regretted ever having a desire to be bound and gagged. I have made it so easy for him to abduct me.
Rick returned and abruptly threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flower. He held on one cheek of my ass with his fingers dangerously close to my undefiled anus in order to steady me while he carried me. He paused in front of a large hall mirror to admire himself with his prize. Regardless of the fear I was feeling, I did get a little aroused since it was like viewing bondage pornography on the Internet. His bondage work was simple but effective. The duct tape gag looked tight and was definitely keeping my mouth stuffing in my flushed face. My muscles in my legs looked more defined in the nylon stockings due to the fact the stiletto booties kept my feet in a flexed position. The contrast of the hemp rope just above the black booties that kept my stocking ankles bound looked sexy. Since I was bent over and the way Rick was holding one my hairless burly ass cheeks, I would feel a fresh breeze across my asshole due to the fact there was an air conditioning vent directly above me. The overall image reminded me of story I read in a BDSM magazine of lumberjack carrying a hostage he found nude, tied up, gagged and blindfolded. This collage student, a pledge of a fraternal organization, was tied up by his fraternity brothers and left in the woods for his girlfriend to find with clues of scavenge hunt as part as part of a fraternity initiation. (Yes. I had this happened, except I was stripped down to my boxer briefs and slouch white boot socks and there was no lumberjack) In the scenario in my mind, the lumberjack (Rick) was going to fuck the frat guy (me) to relieve his blue balls since he had not been with a women in months. What the fuck! I am in danger and I am imagining I am part of a sexual fantasy. I think Rick was deep in fantasy as I looked at his reflection in the mirror and his eyes looked like he was looking at his bound prize…admiring his rope work. He placed his free hand on one of my calves and began kneading my calf muscle. Before making his way to the door leading to the garage, he bounced me on his shoulder so my pelvis was pressing against the crook of his neck. Rick’s fingers dug deeper in my crack. I felt his finger tip trace the string of the thong down to the soft tissue of my crinkled star; richly innervated with sensory nerve endings. While he took the next few steps, he began rubbing my anus with his middle finger in circular motion. The massaging of my most private body part, a body part that I had no idea had such heightened sensitivity, sent a tingling sensation throughout my body, especially in my groin area. Goosebumps formed on my skin. It trigger sexual arousal…causing me to leak a little on Rick’s shoulder. How can I be horny and anxious at the same time? For a few seconds, I had temporary relief from the uncomfortable anal sphincter chafing caused by the thong string that was wedged in my turd cutter. Rick then pinched the thong string with his pointer and thumb, pulled upward, and then let it snap against my stretched and relaxed posterior pelvic floor. Ouch!
Once we were in the garage, he headed to the back of my Jeep, opened the lift gate and laid me facedown in the storage area (he had already folded down the back seats). He removed a piece of rope from his duffle bag, folded it in half, looped it between my bound ankles, pulled tight and tied the ends to my bound wrist. I am now in tight hogtie. Rendered immobile…feeling weak…feeling hopeless. All knots are tied tight and not close enough to be touched. My fingers instinctively wrapped around the stiletto heels to lesson the tension of the rope binding my wrist to my ankles. Then he pulled out my other dress sock from his back pocket and blindfolded me. I shook my head…to let this man know I didn’t want to be blindfolded…to let him know I didn’t want to go with him. Rick then slaps my bare ass and announces the fun was just about to begin. “Mmmuuummmff” was my audible response. Fun for who?
Rick open the garage door with the remote in my Jeep, pulled out, and closed the garage door. I could hear noises…children laughing…cars driving slowly by…dogs barking…adults talking. I live in a bustling neighborhood which is more lively on Friday evenings. One last attempt to save myself. I yelled for help as loud as I could…begging someone to hear my pleas…call the police…try to stop the vehicle…shoot out the tires…shit…it’s Louisiana, everyone has a gun. “Mmuuuuufff…mm…mmm…aaaahhh.” Rich said in a calm voice, “No one can hear you motherfucker. But keep it up. Your desperate moaning is making me more horny.” I immediately stopped yelling since I didn’t want to make things worst for myself. Then he increased the audio volume in the Jeep…a Boyz II Men song, I’ll Make Love to You, was being blasted through the speakers. No one knows I’m being kidnapped…hogtied, gagged and blindfolded in the storage area in my own vehicle…practically nude. Damn fucking tinted windows. We were off…leaving my home…leaving my safe neiborhood…in order to start a new adventure…possibly my last adventure. I began crying uncontrollably. "Ahhha ha ha aaargh. Bwah! Ahhha aaargh!“ I gotta get a hold of myself. Tears were draining into my nasal cavity and mixing with mucus in my nose, producing snot. It was making it hard to breath.
I no longer felt like a person…Mike…but an inanimate object. What is going to happen to me? (To be continued…….)
