A huge mistake
“Mike, I’m leaving! Don’t stay too late! I heard my father’s voice from downstairs.
“Don’t worry, Dad! Have fun with your buddies and don’t get too drunk… You still remember the hangover you had last time, right?” I replied with a hint of laughter.
“Don’t be such a smartass, son… Don’t wait for me, we’ll see each other in the morning!”
My name is Michael Wright and I am sixteen years old. Even though I am still a teenager I look much older; I have a very short brown hair, hazel eyes and light beard. My female friends at school say I am an eye candy and I even saw a few guys eyeing me up, which is very flattering. I live alone with my father in a large house in the suburbs. My mother died when I was very young and my two older brothers were in the army; I was the youngest son in the, but I already knew that when I grow up I would follow my brothers’ footsteps and join the forces too. As one of our neighbor’s said, men in our family had some strange leanings and most of them were either the military men or cops. My father chose the second option and worked in one of the police departments in the city.
Every time he was on holiday the four of us spent it together; we went camping, fishing or hiking. Dad always wanted to teach us something new and used all the opportunities to do so. At the age of fourteen I was able to do much more than all my buddies all together. I was very proud of myself when I got praised by him and always looked up to him. He was not only my father, but also the idol and best friend. I felt that I could tell him everything and that he would always be there for me. Many of my friends were actually quite jealous of our relationship; from what they told me, their Dad’s took little interest in what was going on in their sons’ lives and were focusing only on their jobs, leaving the households to their wives. When I heard those stories I felt really sorry for my friends and realized how lucky me and my brothers were to have such a decent Dad.
But even though me and my father were very close with each other and I considered him my best friend, there was one thing I never told him about. The secret I kept both from him and from everybody else was my fascination with bondage. Since I was very young I always felt a strange tingle whenever I saw a tied up man in a movie, especially if he was also gagged properly. When I was watching such a scene alone it was fine, but when my Dad or brother was there with me I always felt nervous; I was sure it was impossible, but sometimes I was afraid that they knew perfectly well what’s going on in my head and how much I wanted to find myself in the place of the bound man. If seeing a guy in ropes made me feel uneasy, something else really freaked me out. Sometimes me and my father were in the garage or the shed he turned into a small workshop. There were rolls of extra strong, military grade duct tape there; whenever Dad grabbed one of them to fix something my eyes were going wide as hell and I couldn’t stop imagining him walking towards me and using the sticky tape to shut my mouth. When he had the roll ins his giant hands I always had huge problems with focusing on whatever we were doing at the moment.
Of course I couldn’t count on being tied up by him or anybody else, so I started reading about it on the internet, but that didn’t help much. In fact, most of the sites I tried to visit were destined for adults and it was clear that bondage was merely the beginning and sort of a foreplay that led to something more in those places. Since I wasn’t interested in such stuff I found it really difficult to find a site where people would want only to be tied up and didn’t expect anything else. After some time I managed to find exactly what I was looking for; there were all kinds of stories containing a lot of bondage scenes and no sex at all. I hesitated if I should register on the site and write to someone who would share my desires, but after some consideration decided not to. Instead, I focused on reading the stories and, to my great surprise, I realized that some of them weren’t only the description of who and how tied up whom, but they also contained very interesting storylines.
After several months of regular visits on the site I read most of the stories that interested me and checked what else it had to offer. Among many things I saw a topic named ‘self-bondage’ and decided to see what it contained. Although sometimes I thought about tying myself up I didn’t actually believe that would be a lot of fun; in my dreams it was always some other guy doing the job, letting me struggle on the floor and moan into my gag. But since there was nobody like that on the horizon and I was too afraid to tell anyone about my secret I thought I might give it a try. After reading some stories about it and how people who did that felt while being restrained I grew more and more intrigued. So one afternoon, when I was alone in the house, I went to my Dad’s workshop to get the duct tape and some rope. I used the former to bind my legs and seal my mouth shut and the latter to tie my wrists behind my back. Even though I did a poor work I had to admit it felt fantastic.
Since that moment I practiced self-bondage from time to time and was always super careful to make sure that no one could find out about it. And that particular Friday night was no different; when my father left the house I waited for around ten minutes before I finally left the room and headed to the workshop. I took the roll of duct tape and the ropes and returned to my room. Before I started, I used the toilet, made sure that the front door was locked and checked my phone to see if there were any messages. Satisfied, I sat on the floor and wrapped the rope around my ankles, pining them together. Then I ripped a long strip from the tape and plastered it on over my mouth; even though it was a rather lame gag, I felt a familiar tingle in my body when I put it on. Finally I took the rope and made some loops in it and tied a loose knot. I lied on the floor and put my hands through the ropes and used my fingers to tighten the knot. Immediately I felt calm and relaxed; I looked at the clock on my deck; it was still quite early and I hand at least a couple of hours to stay like that. I closed my eyes and just lied there, enjoying the sensation.
I must have dozed off; I was brought to reality by some noise downstairs. I immediately tried to get up, but forgot about my bonds. I was really frightened and tried to loosen the knots as quickly as I could and get rid of the tape from my mouth and ropes from my legs and arms. I worked as fast as possible, but, ironically, the knot on my wrists was tighter than usual and I couldn’t get free. My nervousness turned into panic when I heard my father’s voice announcing that he was home early because one of his friend’s son had a car accident and no one was in the mood for poker game anymore. I was desperate to free myself, but the more I tried, the more I seemed to tighten the damn knot. After a while I realized that everything went quiet and I hoped for my Dad to go to his own bedroom or to the toilet, giving me several more minutes to calm down and escape my self-made bonds. Just when I was about to try to undo the knots I heard steps right behind the door. He knocked on it.
“Son, are you there?” He asked and entered the room. I froze in fear… How the hell could I be so stupid?!
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