TALK IS CHEAP BUT A LEATHER GAG IS CHEAPER...
by waltb2b, Feb 1, 2014, 2:55:57 AM
Literature / Prose / Non-Fiction / Biography & Memoir / Stories & Vignettes
.
MOSTLY A TRUE STORY
One Friday afternoon both my roommate and I arrived home about the same time. Over a beer he told me he was going trolling at the local bar later.
I was a bit older than he and had no desire to party or drink, so the talk got around to locking me up in a wrist /ankle set of cuffs until he got back. I had just bought them in the mail and hadn't had a chance to really try them out yet so I said OK. He urged me to slip into a swim suit or shorts as clothes might just get in the way (of all the clinking he was thinking).
I retired to the bedroom and emerged in my USMC swim suit / shorts carrying the darby cuff chain assembly. He pronounced his approval and clamped the cuffs with only 3 inches between them on in front of me.
Bending down he began to affix the ankle fetters with about 18 inches apart hooked in the middle to the vertical chain, as I reminded him it wasn't too late to change his mind (was I having a premonition?). CLICK, pause CLICK. I was fully locked up.
He put the keys on the center top of the refrigerator "in case of an emergency" telling me that if I were to retrieve them, my next weekend would be a liquid diet one. "A what?" "Liquid diet because all you will have will be the leather straitjacket and a straw for the whole weekend." I knew him and I knew when he wasn't kidding. I was safer than I knew. Read on for why...
With that, he said "see ya" and was out the door. I was alone.
I was left in ankle to wrist shackles keeping my hands at about waist level. I thought it was great - I could use the tv remote, type and play on the computer, sleep. I thought it a bit comic that I had to bend my knees to scratch my nose, but that was part of the game. For the first couple of hours it was fun exploring my limitations and I knew he'd be home soon.
Right in the middle of a good TV show the phone rang. I pulled myself off the couch and picked it up. It was him. I was hoping he wasn't having car trouble or such, but the news was far worse:
"I ran into a buddy of mine and will be staying over at his house tonight. See you tomorrow sometime. CLICK. He knew what I would likely say and didn't want to waste his time listening to my rantings or pleadings since in his mind I was a prisoner and was going to stay that way. Shit! 3 hours of this is already getting old and now I'm looking at another 12 or so?!?!
OK, part of me looked forward to the challenge, but the rest of me was formulating words not fit to print here. I thought I could sleep in these, but now I'll find out for sure.
When totally screwed, what do you do? EAT!
I started to get hungry so I went to the refrigerator and was shocked to learn I couldn't get my hands above the second lowest shelf. Nothing there! I went to the kitchen pantry and realized most of the goodies were chest high or better. I was trapped for at least 24 hrs, with 20 to go and no food unless I wanted to make a meal out of a ketchup bottle!
That education was enough, but there was more in store.
It really came home when I had to use the bathroom. It is quite an education to use toilet paper with handcuffs on!
I couldn't brush my teeth because I couldn't reach the toothbrush let alone open the medicine cabinet.
"Hell with it, I'm going to bed." I was able to get the covers as high as my lower chest before falling asleep.
I was awakened early the next morning by a noise at the front door. He's Back!
When my captor finally returned home I was very relieved - I was getting out of the chains!
NOT!
I met him in the living room and we sat and chatted a bit. I took a piss and he brought me some crackers from the kitchen. All the time I'm wondering why he hasn't released me.
He got up and told me to follow him back to my bedroom. OK, I'm getting out. Great - about time!
He dug in the toy box a bit (looking for the keys? did he forget he left them on the top of the refer just to torment me?).
"Turn around." Strange as the handcuffs and connecting chain were in front, but perhaps he was going to undo the shackles first. "
Did you leave the bathroom door open or closed?" "Open" came out as " Opmmmpf" I responded as he slipped a leather gag into my mouth buckling it more than tight behind my head. Then I felt him fiddling with the buckle and I heard that damned "click". It wasn't coming off until he was ready.
Then he marched me behind the partially open bedroom door. From the back he grabbed the descending chain and tied a rope into one of the links half way above my knees. He then squeezed a rope end under the back of the gag strap. Pushing me gently into the corner behind the door he tossed the rope over the upper door hinge. Then saying "I'm going out with Jim. Might be back sometime tomorrow."
He then pulled the rope very taught, tied a knot on the other side of the door,then closed it saying "Bye".
The rope took all the slack from the chains. My ankles were pulled together and my wrists pulled down. I couldn't give them any slack as my head was pinned to the door and I couldn't bend over. Hell, I was as much a part of the furniture as the door I was pulled into thus sealing my fate.
I started hollering "What? You can't leave me like this! Let me out! You can't leave!
It just didn't come out sounding anything like that nor loud enough to even disturb the cat.
I fell silent. I heard him on the phone but all I could understand was "goodbye."
Then I freaked (sort of anyway - what could I do?) as I heard the front door open and close.
"Shit!" He was serious and I'm totally trapped here able to roll my body about 30 degrees from side to side -- I was stuffed in the corner behind the door and my weight against it made certain it was not going to simply "pop" open.
This guy is having me set a new record of something.
Once my eyes got used to the dark I scanned every object in the room several times while trying to figure out a way out - like "HA" That wasn't happening.
This was only Saturday so we had another full day in the weekend.
Shit! He wouldn't...
He really wouldn't leave me like this all weekend, would he?
Time passed slowly to say the least. I tried to sleep standing up, but every time my head nodded forward that damn leather plug gag was pushed deeper into my mouth.
It was still daylight when I heard something in the house. The microwave alarm? No. what was it?
Then it dawned on me why
it sounded so familiar: It was his alarm clock. Hell. did he set it and forget it when he left? How long is that thing going to "entertain" me now?
Then my door opened squishing me against the wall in the process.
He never left. He did the front door routine and then crept back to his own bed for a 3 hr.nap.
So he closes the door (I'm still hanging there, unable to move or talk) and begins to strike up a conversation: a bit one sided at this point though.
I didn't care. He totally faked me out and I was so glad to see him I would have agreed to anything just to get out.
"well, did you have enough tine to get used to those chains?
To the extent I could I tried to nod my head and grunt a "yes".
"Are you ready to get out?"
"Umpgf" or something like it was all that came out.
"Would you agree that I know what is best for you in things like this? You see I'm planning on letting you out"
(What the hell was he leading up to: This is a set up but what choices have I got?)
"Umpgh" again still trying to nod my head.
"Here are your choices then: I don't think you have fully mastered this new toy and we BOTH know you want to master these, don't we?"
(Shit! here it comes)
Opton 1: you stay like this until Monday morning except we replace the gag with that heavy sensory deprivation leather helmet so nothing disturbs you (and you don't disturb me) until it is time to get ready for work.
Option 2: I let you out but every evening by 7pm you get into the same shorts, the same chains and the same gag but the gag can come out at 11pm. The rest of you gets out in the morning. You will do this through next Sunday. However any time you are late adds another 2 days. I'll do the shopping and feed you, but if I even think you are in violation of the agreement or you otherwise piss me off, you and this door will be close friends.
Fumbling in the toy box : "Hey this deprivation hood is really thick, isn't it"
(UGH!)
Which do you chose? Grunt once for number one or twice for number 2.
=========================================================================
TALK IS CHEAP but a leather gag is cheaper.. CH 4 up. (M/M)
TALK IS CHEAP but a leather gag is cheaper.. CH 4 up. (M/M)
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Last edited by tony2 6 years ago, edited 3 times in total.
Welcome back to an ld friend.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
Solarbeast
- Moderator
- Posts: 1136
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Florida
Since there are no specific folders for these stories, would it be possible for you to say the genders of the characters involved in the title?
As per the pic and the ones to follow in later chapters, male.... 
-
fratboydanny
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 361
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: United States
Fun story. Thanks for writing and sharing. As for my suggestion I grunt twice into my gag!
More grunt votes needed or he is liable to default me to BOTH !!!
Then how am I going to write while I'm stuck like this???
mmpfff ????
Then how am I going to write while I'm stuck like this???
mmpfff ????
Sorry, mate. Had to put the (M/M) at the top.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
That's fine === in case I forget
CHAPTER TWO --- STILL HERE !!!
I've been collecting handcuffs and other restraints since at about 12, a friend and I learned the challenges and "victories" involved in TUGs. We didn't know to call it that, but we had some interesting times. At the time of this story add about 25 years to the above. I had a 2 bedroom house in the Seattle area and a younger roommate sort of went with it.
I wouldn't say he was sexually active, but any guy in range was certainly scoped out rather well. In fact, if he were in Montana it's likely no sheep would be safe (Apologies to said State and its wooley residents) For those with an International flair, you can substitute Kerry, Ireland for Montana. I'm sure the sheep wouldn't mind.
He and I had been close for a number of years - not sexually though - I left that part to his male harem who had a chance of keeping up with him.
He was one person who could rag on me about all those spendy and unused toys in boxes. I would see them and wonder what it felt like and could I escape from them and how. So, money permitting, I would order these things. When they arrived I would put them on and see what the capabilities of the situation could be. After I had found out, I put them back on the shelf.
"If you only use the a couple of times for 20 minutes, that makes it a very expensive hourly collection" "You should be getting at least a $2/hr return on your investment, don't you think?" Absentmindedly, The logic sounded reasonable so I agreed just to change the subject. It worked and it looked like the subject was dropped.
I had just bought the shackle/cuff combo you see in the picture, tried it on once and thought it presented some interesting tactical options. Then it went on the shelf.
Just before the start of the weekend I had agreed with him (in a moment of weakness, I'm sure) that I probably should get more use from the toys but wanted to start with my newest.
The next thing I knew I was dressed out in the same configuration you see in the picture.
He was gone all night and into the next morning. I could type, surf, sleep, manage the bathroom necessities (almost all anyway).
When he got home he tied a rope to the vertical chain just back of my knees, ran it up my back, under the strap for the gag then over the top hinge in the door. When he pulled it tight (at 6 ft. 4 inches and 245 lbs. he had no trouble with yanking it solid.
The result was I was one with the door jam in the inside of my bedroom; I couldn't move my head, my feet were yanked together and the shackles now rode as high on my legs as they could go; finally, my hands were pulled flat against my thighs. I couldn't even wiggle my supplemental appendage as the wrist chain crossed over it into no man's land.
After about 18 hrs in that device, I felt I had earned its pending retirement, but that was a view not equally entertained by my associate who I believe, was enjoying all this way too much.
When he said he was going out with another of his buddies and didn't know when he would be back, I might have lost it; but that would manifest in only feeble grunts and a narrow but rapid ass wiggle against the inside corner of the door.
He faked me out. He elaborately took a nap for about 3 hrs and then opened my door. Freeing me?
No way. Of course not. He was having too much fun.
Then he gave me an option to chose between two definitely unappreciated choices, in my opinion.
That quickly brings us to the present:
I'm still glued to the inside edge of the bedroom door, my legs and back are beginning to revolt from standing for over 3 hrs. with no movement. All I've eaten in the last 24 hrs was a couple of crackers. My jaw is beginning to ache from the plug and the worst part: A part of my body is showing a definite like for the situation and I'm very glad those shorts are a heavy material.
What credibility do my moans have if he sees that? Damn, my fingers can't even reach a "rescue". (Insert a few pitiful moans for effect).
Sizing me up as he reclined on his elbow on the bed:
"Have you made a decision yet? (He was grinning, grinning would you believe, at my predicament --- had he seen "the staff of life" or was he just his sarcastic loving self taking full advantage of a situation he seldom got?). Later on I though I saw some humor in all this somewhere as well but admittedly, I'm still thinking about that even today.
"NO, wait! I just realized you haven't eaten for quite a while." (I wish he was around now when I need to drop about 60 lbs.). Ok, we'll make a little game of it. (Oh God, NO! I thought). I'm going to make you a good sandwich and cut it into 4 squares. i will take the gag out and feed you, but if you say even one word it will be a long time before you eat again. Do you understand? Nod your head as much as you can (giggle)."
I did - as emphatically as I could. "OK, I be right back ... uh I knew I was forgetting something" (Oh Shit - not again - here it comes).
He grabbed the roll of duct tape (I won't even comment of what I was thinking then in deference to tender minds that might read this --- no, not you of course, the other guy)
He tore off 2 pieces about 5"' long each. ("Now what?) and placed each about an inch above each eyebrow running them down gently but firmly plunging me into the abysmal dark of Tartarus.
He left and I heard him rattling around the kitchen.
Finally he is back and I hear him shuffling around a bit - then,"I'm going to remove the gag. Do you remember the rules on talking?" I nodded what I could. Out came the gag. I've chewed on rare beef before, but none that had as much a personality as that damn thing.
"Here is a straw and some milk." I think I straight on emptied the glass.
Then "Are you ready for the 4 parts of the sandwich?"
(why all 4 at once? One at a time would taste better).
"The best course is probable get them all in at once and then eat your way through them'
I knew I could handle 3 and I guess I'll just give it a go at all 4.
One: OK stuff it in the left cheek. Two: Right Cheek Three: The back roof of the mouth, Four, plenty of room up front. Now to eat whatever it is. PEANUT BUTTER AND BREAD?
"Umpf, nighpt aawk (made perfect sense to me: "what the hell is this?")
Then he did it. While i was totally unable to talk at all since my mouth was cemented in place by all those little peanuts that sacrificed their lives just to shut me up!!!
He slips the isolation hood over my head. Before he closes it up completely - I still can't talk, scream or even cuss - the hood is keeping me from trying to spit out any of this goop,) he says he's going over to Jimmy's but don't wait up for him (If I could have moved I would have kicked him, I'm sure).
With all that peanut butter I couldn't even scream.
Naturally he cinched it up but then i heard about 3 separate clicks. Damn, locked on tight.
But then, he removed the rope that held me so well to the door.
Hooray, I was finally free! I could move my arms. I could move my back. I could bend my legs. I could even fix that fabric pinch that had been forming in my shorts.
And then he left.
Now, after stumbling over to the edge of the bed and sitting down, I began to think what to do with my new found freedom.
Eat? not through that pencil width hole in front of my mouth.
Drink? even a straw was too big and to free pour meant wearing most of it. I could wait.
TV? Even If I could find the remote (knowing him I would bet another peanut butter sandwich that it was on top of the refer with the keys), I couldn't see it and with the padding over the ears, doubted I could even hear that much of it.
I began following the straps on my head. Consistently they were all tight with a cute little lock on each. I began to dream how absurd it was for a big guy like me to be controlled by this little toy - this tiny lock!
"Quit thinking of it. Do something else!" Ya, like play a game of chess perhaps, or go for a drive? Jerk!
Then I thought of opening the front door and knocking on a neighbor's door for help. I'd just scare the crap out of them and being unable to talk or see would seal the deal as well as their front door.
OK, get up and take a well deserved piss.
I arose from the bed and remembered the route to the bathroom. Ouch! Damn! I forgot about the desk chair. Hmm, the doorway, tile underfoot. The toilet is to the right but not s far as the shower. Walking much more carefully I "discovered" the lip of the shower stall. Turn Left. shuffle, shuffle, clink. The chains hit the toilet bowl. I positioned my feet as close as the chains would allow and realized that without site or hearing, there was just as good a chance i would be redecorating the wall, especially since an important part of me still wanted to play.
Pull it out, push it down as you bend over. fire! Hope for the best, Flush and get out of there - don't forget the desk chair.
I zipped my pants up and made it back to the bed.
I think I'll just lay here for a bit to think of what to do next.
Oh the back! Boy that is getting comfortable. He'll be back soon (right! Optimist) Damn little "toy" locks, lockz, lockzzz,lozzz, lzzzz, zzzzzzz
I've been collecting handcuffs and other restraints since at about 12, a friend and I learned the challenges and "victories" involved in TUGs. We didn't know to call it that, but we had some interesting times. At the time of this story add about 25 years to the above. I had a 2 bedroom house in the Seattle area and a younger roommate sort of went with it.
I wouldn't say he was sexually active, but any guy in range was certainly scoped out rather well. In fact, if he were in Montana it's likely no sheep would be safe (Apologies to said State and its wooley residents) For those with an International flair, you can substitute Kerry, Ireland for Montana. I'm sure the sheep wouldn't mind.
He and I had been close for a number of years - not sexually though - I left that part to his male harem who had a chance of keeping up with him.
He was one person who could rag on me about all those spendy and unused toys in boxes. I would see them and wonder what it felt like and could I escape from them and how. So, money permitting, I would order these things. When they arrived I would put them on and see what the capabilities of the situation could be. After I had found out, I put them back on the shelf.
"If you only use the a couple of times for 20 minutes, that makes it a very expensive hourly collection" "You should be getting at least a $2/hr return on your investment, don't you think?" Absentmindedly, The logic sounded reasonable so I agreed just to change the subject. It worked and it looked like the subject was dropped.
I had just bought the shackle/cuff combo you see in the picture, tried it on once and thought it presented some interesting tactical options. Then it went on the shelf.
Just before the start of the weekend I had agreed with him (in a moment of weakness, I'm sure) that I probably should get more use from the toys but wanted to start with my newest.
The next thing I knew I was dressed out in the same configuration you see in the picture.
He was gone all night and into the next morning. I could type, surf, sleep, manage the bathroom necessities (almost all anyway).
When he got home he tied a rope to the vertical chain just back of my knees, ran it up my back, under the strap for the gag then over the top hinge in the door. When he pulled it tight (at 6 ft. 4 inches and 245 lbs. he had no trouble with yanking it solid.
The result was I was one with the door jam in the inside of my bedroom; I couldn't move my head, my feet were yanked together and the shackles now rode as high on my legs as they could go; finally, my hands were pulled flat against my thighs. I couldn't even wiggle my supplemental appendage as the wrist chain crossed over it into no man's land.
After about 18 hrs in that device, I felt I had earned its pending retirement, but that was a view not equally entertained by my associate who I believe, was enjoying all this way too much.
When he said he was going out with another of his buddies and didn't know when he would be back, I might have lost it; but that would manifest in only feeble grunts and a narrow but rapid ass wiggle against the inside corner of the door.
He faked me out. He elaborately took a nap for about 3 hrs and then opened my door. Freeing me?
No way. Of course not. He was having too much fun.
Then he gave me an option to chose between two definitely unappreciated choices, in my opinion.
That quickly brings us to the present:
I'm still glued to the inside edge of the bedroom door, my legs and back are beginning to revolt from standing for over 3 hrs. with no movement. All I've eaten in the last 24 hrs was a couple of crackers. My jaw is beginning to ache from the plug and the worst part: A part of my body is showing a definite like for the situation and I'm very glad those shorts are a heavy material.
What credibility do my moans have if he sees that? Damn, my fingers can't even reach a "rescue". (Insert a few pitiful moans for effect).
Sizing me up as he reclined on his elbow on the bed:
"Have you made a decision yet? (He was grinning, grinning would you believe, at my predicament --- had he seen "the staff of life" or was he just his sarcastic loving self taking full advantage of a situation he seldom got?). Later on I though I saw some humor in all this somewhere as well but admittedly, I'm still thinking about that even today.
"NO, wait! I just realized you haven't eaten for quite a while." (I wish he was around now when I need to drop about 60 lbs.). Ok, we'll make a little game of it. (Oh God, NO! I thought). I'm going to make you a good sandwich and cut it into 4 squares. i will take the gag out and feed you, but if you say even one word it will be a long time before you eat again. Do you understand? Nod your head as much as you can (giggle)."
I did - as emphatically as I could. "OK, I be right back ... uh I knew I was forgetting something" (Oh Shit - not again - here it comes).
He grabbed the roll of duct tape (I won't even comment of what I was thinking then in deference to tender minds that might read this --- no, not you of course, the other guy)
He tore off 2 pieces about 5"' long each. ("Now what?) and placed each about an inch above each eyebrow running them down gently but firmly plunging me into the abysmal dark of Tartarus.
He left and I heard him rattling around the kitchen.
Finally he is back and I hear him shuffling around a bit - then,"I'm going to remove the gag. Do you remember the rules on talking?" I nodded what I could. Out came the gag. I've chewed on rare beef before, but none that had as much a personality as that damn thing.
"Here is a straw and some milk." I think I straight on emptied the glass.
Then "Are you ready for the 4 parts of the sandwich?"
(why all 4 at once? One at a time would taste better).
"The best course is probable get them all in at once and then eat your way through them'
I knew I could handle 3 and I guess I'll just give it a go at all 4.
One: OK stuff it in the left cheek. Two: Right Cheek Three: The back roof of the mouth, Four, plenty of room up front. Now to eat whatever it is. PEANUT BUTTER AND BREAD?
"Umpf, nighpt aawk (made perfect sense to me: "what the hell is this?")
Then he did it. While i was totally unable to talk at all since my mouth was cemented in place by all those little peanuts that sacrificed their lives just to shut me up!!!
He slips the isolation hood over my head. Before he closes it up completely - I still can't talk, scream or even cuss - the hood is keeping me from trying to spit out any of this goop,) he says he's going over to Jimmy's but don't wait up for him (If I could have moved I would have kicked him, I'm sure).
With all that peanut butter I couldn't even scream.
Naturally he cinched it up but then i heard about 3 separate clicks. Damn, locked on tight.
But then, he removed the rope that held me so well to the door.
Hooray, I was finally free! I could move my arms. I could move my back. I could bend my legs. I could even fix that fabric pinch that had been forming in my shorts.
And then he left.
Now, after stumbling over to the edge of the bed and sitting down, I began to think what to do with my new found freedom.
Eat? not through that pencil width hole in front of my mouth.
Drink? even a straw was too big and to free pour meant wearing most of it. I could wait.
TV? Even If I could find the remote (knowing him I would bet another peanut butter sandwich that it was on top of the refer with the keys), I couldn't see it and with the padding over the ears, doubted I could even hear that much of it.
I began following the straps on my head. Consistently they were all tight with a cute little lock on each. I began to dream how absurd it was for a big guy like me to be controlled by this little toy - this tiny lock!
"Quit thinking of it. Do something else!" Ya, like play a game of chess perhaps, or go for a drive? Jerk!
Then I thought of opening the front door and knocking on a neighbor's door for help. I'd just scare the crap out of them and being unable to talk or see would seal the deal as well as their front door.
OK, get up and take a well deserved piss.
I arose from the bed and remembered the route to the bathroom. Ouch! Damn! I forgot about the desk chair. Hmm, the doorway, tile underfoot. The toilet is to the right but not s far as the shower. Walking much more carefully I "discovered" the lip of the shower stall. Turn Left. shuffle, shuffle, clink. The chains hit the toilet bowl. I positioned my feet as close as the chains would allow and realized that without site or hearing, there was just as good a chance i would be redecorating the wall, especially since an important part of me still wanted to play.
Pull it out, push it down as you bend over. fire! Hope for the best, Flush and get out of there - don't forget the desk chair.
I zipped my pants up and made it back to the bed.
I think I'll just lay here for a bit to think of what to do next.
Oh the back! Boy that is getting comfortable. He'll be back soon (right! Optimist) Damn little "toy" locks, lockz, lockzzz,lozzz, lzzzz, zzzzzzz
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Comfortable?
I expect that will be put right soon.
I expect that will be put right soon.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Mmmpff....
No comments from anyone?
Someone turn on the lights ???
Anyone out there ???
HLpfmmff....
No comments from anyone?
Someone turn on the lights ???
Anyone out there ???
HLpfmmff....
Chapter 3: Words Are Cheap but…
As I lay there with the four-way shackle system and the sensory deprivation hood, I'm sure I fell asleep. I was awakened however with this feeling that ants were beginning to crawl all over my chest and of course the only way I could begin to brush them off was to pull my legs up into a fetal position so I could get my hands up high enough to be of some effect. I did this about two or three times and then heard this explosion like the room was collapsing around me. I sat up real fast try to figure out what was when I heard the click of the three locks and felt the straps being loosened.
What the explosion was as well as the ants, turned out to be my smart-ass roommate who first had a revelation on what to do with the bird feather now that the bird longer had need of it. It turned out the explosion was nothing more than him striking both of the ear sections of the helmet was his open palms simultaneously. After looking at the clock, it appeared he was only gone about an hour and a half although with the helmet on it was impossible to tell. In some respect, it felt like days.
"Did you have fun and a good rest?" I just grumbled a "yeah, sure!"
"Well, before you make your decision, let's try and get some breakfast in you. Come on out to the kitchen and sit on the stool.
As it turned out, the coffee was made and poured the toast was hot and the butter with jam was to kill for. He was then cooking up fresh bacon and eggs so I figured the worst was over and he was going be letting me out. "That's a lovely breakfast, thanks for going to the trouble to make it. Can we take these things off now?"
"Actually, you're doing so well in them, we should probably leave them on at least through breakfast. Remember you're trying to get your money's worth out of these toys and I certainly wouldn't want to short change you." (What the hell does that mean? This has all the signs of me getting out but that's not the way he's apparently playing the game at the moment.")
So he cooked up a lovely breakfast and after 18 hours and only a couple of crackers, was most appreciated. We chatted about several things but every time the conversation got close to the utilization of the toys, including the irons I have been trapped in for over 18 hours, he would change the subject. (What is this guy thinking? Why won't he let me pin him down to answer?)
You need to go to the bathroom?
Yes as a matter of fact now that you mention it.
Okay go ahead while I clean up the kitchen.
I clinked my way down the hall to the bathroom where I was gladly reminded of the phrase "blessed relief." Once I got finished with that aspect, I stood over the sink and tried to splash water in my face but it was difficult to reach the faucets of the water stream and then as I looked in the mirror realized my face looked like a road map of the Seattle downtown business district - the helmet definitely left an impression. I figured I better go out and join him before he thinks of something more diabolical on his own.
By the time I got there he was finishing the breakfast dishes and putting the foods away. I thanked him again for his kindness and I remarked how much fun we've been having the last couple of days and now it's time to change it.
[align]He looked at me with a very phony puzzled look on his face. [/align]
"Oh you're not getting out, so get that idea out of your head:
it ain't happening!"
So how do you feel about option two: being locked up at seven o'clock each night and let out in the morning so you can go to work?
(Crap he is still serious!). I suppose I could live with that if I had to, but I'd rather not. At least I'd be sure of getting plenty of rest!)
Okay he says, now we have to do is to think of something for the remainder of this weekend.
"Like what did you have in mind?" Lets go back to your bedroom and I'll show you what I had in mind for about two hours or so.
(As if I had a choice) a couple of hours? Since I was such a lovely breakfast, sure, why not?
Getting back to the bed, I noticed he had a chain running from the side of one headboard to the other side.
Now you have to remember that my hands were chained in front of me and then dropped approximately 48 inches to the shackles connecting my ankles.
Lay down there. I did and he wove the chain underneath my left armpit across my chest and down through my right where he then locked it securely to the near corner.
Try and sit up!
Not a chance. With my head pressed into the headboard there wasn't much of a chance of moving anywhere.
That looks pretty good but it's missing something: I know what it is as he bends down at the foot of the bed and pulls up short chains from either corner with snap clips on them has no trouble at all pulling them taught and snapping under the links on the shackles closest to the feet.
I don't know about this, I can't even scratch my nose if I needed to.
"Well maybe I can help that to" (Goody, here it comes)
And make sure your Walkman was fully charged and it looks like it has almost a weeks worth of tunes on it (it did). We'll put these earbuds in your ears. They can help you pass the time faster.
What are you talking about? We're only going to do this for an hour or two?
Yeah, that's right, but you should experience what it would be like if it went longer. Don't you think?
"I suppose so"
With that he put the earbuds firmly into each year saying don't worry I'll start it in just a couple minutes. He then reaches down next to the bed and gets that damned helm. Despite my protests and unable to move, and after the command to open wide the sticks a sock in my mouth and firmly straps the helm on. He returns to it one more time and I swear he tightened every one of the straps again. Then, click, click, click as the locks resumed their former position. He reaches down and switches on the Walkman the dynamic strains of Ride of the Valkyrie.
I'm still reasonably certain this is only going to take a couple hours and he's just been pulling my leg, but as he pulls down my shorts to my knees, at which point my highly amplified "What the Suckfsuck Are You Doing?!" Came out so intelligible that even I couldn't understand it, when I feel the base of my shaft is wrapping some tape. And I feel it inserted in a plastic tube of some sort to which it is taped in place.
I can't speak. I can't hear. I can't see. My movement is so limited it's almost safe to say I can't even feel. I can somewhat judge the time by the music playing in my head so I was there totally immobile for a number of hours when I heard the gag being unlocked and the sock being removed. I was delighted I was figuring he was going to be letting me out. No such luck. He lightly dropped a little water in the hole to let me know what his intentions were since I couldn't hear, so now I realized that I'm going to get a drink after all. Sure enough, on a slow pour, but it wasn't water, it was a ice cold beer. At first I was surprised and then delighted as it slaked my thirst very nicely. I'm sure I finished the bottle, but then here it comes again. I kept drinking, just to keep from being flooded out. I finished the second one and I think I even felt the bubbles in my stomach. Again it starts coming. I had no choice but to finish the third bottle. At this point I figured he was then going through the whole bloody case, but the next thing to enter my mouth was the sock again. Once again it's strapped up and locked.
Lovely guy, he knew exactly what he was doing. Beer is something we rent, never buy. I tried to hold it pending release. I had no idea what parts of me were actually attached and what would happen if my bladder decided to try to rule the world. Finally, after an eternity, I could hold back the biblical flood no longer. I was sure I was to be sitting in a very soggy and soon to be stinky mattress. I'm sure you can imagine my relief when at this point only did I discover that what I was taped into was in fact a male urinal designed for this purpose.
Quite sometime later I felt the tape was being ripped off of my Dick. Watch the hairs! Not so fast! (Of course all he heard was stifled muffles) he then unclips the leg clips as well as the chain across my chest then he paused the Walkman and as he grabbed my biceps and rolled me into a vertical position I felt him unlocking the helm as well.
Off it came and out fell that damned sock.
It was Sunday morning. If I was supposed to keep to the original schedule I would've been locked up for another 24 hours like that
. Imagine my surprise when he began to undo the shackles and then undo the handcuffs as well. I was so relieved I didn't know what to say.
I really didn't have to worry about that too much as before I could get up he flipped me over and I found my hands were now behind my back in a pair of hinged handcuffs.
I looked down with a very puzzled look and he simply looked at me and grinned saying "you need to get your money's worth out of those too don't you?" Join me in the kitchen after you pull your shorts up.
Unless you've tried it, take my word that it is not an overly easy procedure to pull even your shorts up with your hands firmly cuffed behind your back. Nonetheless, I made it and joined him out in the kitchen.
There he had already on the counter a lovely dinner even though the day was Sunday morning. Steak and eggs, a potato, and a lovely mixed drink for an appetizer.
(Beautiful I exclaimed but if you would take these handcuffs off I would enjoy it much more I'm sure).
Then he got that "I Am a God and You Are a Worm" Look on His Face and I Knew He Was Enjoying Every Suffering Minute.
One by One, nibble by nibble, he fed me the entire meal.
Why don't you go over to the couch, make yourself comfortable and watch TV.
I did just that, very thankful that he hadn't continued his initial idea.
Tomorrow begins his new program if you will and I'm just wondering how that is supposed to turn out?
True to his word though, when it became 11 O'clock he walked over and finally took off the hinged handcuffs.
"Good night, but don't forget, one minute past 7 and you are not cuffed and shackled, I get you for 2 days more"
I'll remember, I'll remember as I ambled off to bed a free man at last -- at least until 7 tomorrow night.
One problem kept haunting me though. He loved playing tricks on me and he was really getting off on this game. I wonder what he is up to???
As I lay there with the four-way shackle system and the sensory deprivation hood, I'm sure I fell asleep. I was awakened however with this feeling that ants were beginning to crawl all over my chest and of course the only way I could begin to brush them off was to pull my legs up into a fetal position so I could get my hands up high enough to be of some effect. I did this about two or three times and then heard this explosion like the room was collapsing around me. I sat up real fast try to figure out what was when I heard the click of the three locks and felt the straps being loosened.
What the explosion was as well as the ants, turned out to be my smart-ass roommate who first had a revelation on what to do with the bird feather now that the bird longer had need of it. It turned out the explosion was nothing more than him striking both of the ear sections of the helmet was his open palms simultaneously. After looking at the clock, it appeared he was only gone about an hour and a half although with the helmet on it was impossible to tell. In some respect, it felt like days.
"Did you have fun and a good rest?" I just grumbled a "yeah, sure!"
"Well, before you make your decision, let's try and get some breakfast in you. Come on out to the kitchen and sit on the stool.
As it turned out, the coffee was made and poured the toast was hot and the butter with jam was to kill for. He was then cooking up fresh bacon and eggs so I figured the worst was over and he was going be letting me out. "That's a lovely breakfast, thanks for going to the trouble to make it. Can we take these things off now?"
"Actually, you're doing so well in them, we should probably leave them on at least through breakfast. Remember you're trying to get your money's worth out of these toys and I certainly wouldn't want to short change you." (What the hell does that mean? This has all the signs of me getting out but that's not the way he's apparently playing the game at the moment.")
So he cooked up a lovely breakfast and after 18 hours and only a couple of crackers, was most appreciated. We chatted about several things but every time the conversation got close to the utilization of the toys, including the irons I have been trapped in for over 18 hours, he would change the subject. (What is this guy thinking? Why won't he let me pin him down to answer?)
You need to go to the bathroom?
Yes as a matter of fact now that you mention it.
Okay go ahead while I clean up the kitchen.
I clinked my way down the hall to the bathroom where I was gladly reminded of the phrase "blessed relief." Once I got finished with that aspect, I stood over the sink and tried to splash water in my face but it was difficult to reach the faucets of the water stream and then as I looked in the mirror realized my face looked like a road map of the Seattle downtown business district - the helmet definitely left an impression. I figured I better go out and join him before he thinks of something more diabolical on his own.
By the time I got there he was finishing the breakfast dishes and putting the foods away. I thanked him again for his kindness and I remarked how much fun we've been having the last couple of days and now it's time to change it.
[align]He looked at me with a very phony puzzled look on his face. [/align]
"Oh you're not getting out, so get that idea out of your head:
it ain't happening!"
So how do you feel about option two: being locked up at seven o'clock each night and let out in the morning so you can go to work?
(Crap he is still serious!). I suppose I could live with that if I had to, but I'd rather not. At least I'd be sure of getting plenty of rest!)
Okay he says, now we have to do is to think of something for the remainder of this weekend.
"Like what did you have in mind?" Lets go back to your bedroom and I'll show you what I had in mind for about two hours or so.
(As if I had a choice) a couple of hours? Since I was such a lovely breakfast, sure, why not?
Getting back to the bed, I noticed he had a chain running from the side of one headboard to the other side.
Now you have to remember that my hands were chained in front of me and then dropped approximately 48 inches to the shackles connecting my ankles.
Lay down there. I did and he wove the chain underneath my left armpit across my chest and down through my right where he then locked it securely to the near corner.
Try and sit up!
Not a chance. With my head pressed into the headboard there wasn't much of a chance of moving anywhere.
That looks pretty good but it's missing something: I know what it is as he bends down at the foot of the bed and pulls up short chains from either corner with snap clips on them has no trouble at all pulling them taught and snapping under the links on the shackles closest to the feet.
I don't know about this, I can't even scratch my nose if I needed to.
"Well maybe I can help that to" (Goody, here it comes)
And make sure your Walkman was fully charged and it looks like it has almost a weeks worth of tunes on it (it did). We'll put these earbuds in your ears. They can help you pass the time faster.
What are you talking about? We're only going to do this for an hour or two?
Yeah, that's right, but you should experience what it would be like if it went longer. Don't you think?
"I suppose so"
With that he put the earbuds firmly into each year saying don't worry I'll start it in just a couple minutes. He then reaches down next to the bed and gets that damned helm. Despite my protests and unable to move, and after the command to open wide the sticks a sock in my mouth and firmly straps the helm on. He returns to it one more time and I swear he tightened every one of the straps again. Then, click, click, click as the locks resumed their former position. He reaches down and switches on the Walkman the dynamic strains of Ride of the Valkyrie.
I'm still reasonably certain this is only going to take a couple hours and he's just been pulling my leg, but as he pulls down my shorts to my knees, at which point my highly amplified "What the Suckfsuck Are You Doing?!" Came out so intelligible that even I couldn't understand it, when I feel the base of my shaft is wrapping some tape. And I feel it inserted in a plastic tube of some sort to which it is taped in place.
I can't speak. I can't hear. I can't see. My movement is so limited it's almost safe to say I can't even feel. I can somewhat judge the time by the music playing in my head so I was there totally immobile for a number of hours when I heard the gag being unlocked and the sock being removed. I was delighted I was figuring he was going to be letting me out. No such luck. He lightly dropped a little water in the hole to let me know what his intentions were since I couldn't hear, so now I realized that I'm going to get a drink after all. Sure enough, on a slow pour, but it wasn't water, it was a ice cold beer. At first I was surprised and then delighted as it slaked my thirst very nicely. I'm sure I finished the bottle, but then here it comes again. I kept drinking, just to keep from being flooded out. I finished the second one and I think I even felt the bubbles in my stomach. Again it starts coming. I had no choice but to finish the third bottle. At this point I figured he was then going through the whole bloody case, but the next thing to enter my mouth was the sock again. Once again it's strapped up and locked.
Lovely guy, he knew exactly what he was doing. Beer is something we rent, never buy. I tried to hold it pending release. I had no idea what parts of me were actually attached and what would happen if my bladder decided to try to rule the world. Finally, after an eternity, I could hold back the biblical flood no longer. I was sure I was to be sitting in a very soggy and soon to be stinky mattress. I'm sure you can imagine my relief when at this point only did I discover that what I was taped into was in fact a male urinal designed for this purpose.
Quite sometime later I felt the tape was being ripped off of my Dick. Watch the hairs! Not so fast! (Of course all he heard was stifled muffles) he then unclips the leg clips as well as the chain across my chest then he paused the Walkman and as he grabbed my biceps and rolled me into a vertical position I felt him unlocking the helm as well.
Off it came and out fell that damned sock.
It was Sunday morning. If I was supposed to keep to the original schedule I would've been locked up for another 24 hours like that
. Imagine my surprise when he began to undo the shackles and then undo the handcuffs as well. I was so relieved I didn't know what to say.
I really didn't have to worry about that too much as before I could get up he flipped me over and I found my hands were now behind my back in a pair of hinged handcuffs.
I looked down with a very puzzled look and he simply looked at me and grinned saying "you need to get your money's worth out of those too don't you?" Join me in the kitchen after you pull your shorts up.
Unless you've tried it, take my word that it is not an overly easy procedure to pull even your shorts up with your hands firmly cuffed behind your back. Nonetheless, I made it and joined him out in the kitchen.
There he had already on the counter a lovely dinner even though the day was Sunday morning. Steak and eggs, a potato, and a lovely mixed drink for an appetizer.
(Beautiful I exclaimed but if you would take these handcuffs off I would enjoy it much more I'm sure).
Then he got that "I Am a God and You Are a Worm" Look on His Face and I Knew He Was Enjoying Every Suffering Minute.
One by One, nibble by nibble, he fed me the entire meal.
Why don't you go over to the couch, make yourself comfortable and watch TV.
I did just that, very thankful that he hadn't continued his initial idea.
Tomorrow begins his new program if you will and I'm just wondering how that is supposed to turn out?
True to his word though, when it became 11 O'clock he walked over and finally took off the hinged handcuffs.
"Good night, but don't forget, one minute past 7 and you are not cuffed and shackled, I get you for 2 days more"
I'll remember, I'll remember as I ambled off to bed a free man at last -- at least until 7 tomorrow night.
One problem kept haunting me though. He loved playing tricks on me and he was really getting off on this game. I wonder what he is up to???
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If you enjoy reading these adventures, please leave a comment --- just to keep my therapist happy
Oops...
Kept getting a dead end on the log in for a while and thought the site went down for good, so I was just locked away in some closet Fed bread and rum (thought I was going to say water? Hah! At least I am a HAPPY prisoner.....).
Guess I may have to get back at it now...
Thanks for the follow-up.....
Kept getting a dead end on the log in for a while and thought the site went down for good, so I was just locked away in some closet Fed bread and rum (thought I was going to say water? Hah! At least I am a HAPPY prisoner.....).
Guess I may have to get back at it now...
Thanks for the follow-up.....
I'm glad you've returned to us. Did you get caught out by the change of address?
If you think the site's down, you can always feel free to note me on DA.
If you think the site's down, you can always feel free to note me on DA.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
SO SORRY GUYS --- I thought the site was down and I had been packed away to Azkaban...
Without the pics (I'll try to get them added later on, for now, I'm sure your fertile imagination can fill in the gruesome details....). Enjoy chapter 4::::
Tony
Without the pics (I'll try to get them added later on, for now, I'm sure your fertile imagination can fill in the gruesome details....). Enjoy chapter 4::::
Tony
Last edited by tony2 6 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Chapter 4 talk is cheap but gags....
CHAPTER 4
The Week That Was:
Monday morning arrived and I fear to even open my eyes thinking that in light of the past several days this must be a dream. You see, like a hobbit, I like my comforts and so I was snuggled up nicely between a pair of satin sheets in this beautiful big bed and totally free for a change. Was that all a dream (and a bad one at that)? I could certainly hope so.
I eventually arose and patted my way into the bathroom to prepare for another week and certainly another day. Nice warm shower: quite lovely Since the shackles of the previous days wouldn't let me lift my legs high enough to get over the tub and into the shower proper. It's amazing how quickly you can despise having to take sponge baths with a washcloth and operate under the illusion that you're actually clean. I digress.
As a warm water cascaded over my chest and then my shoulders and then finally my scalp I felt like I had been born again: although this time it was in the tub of warm, soapy water. I think I stayed in there until we had just about exhausted the hot water supply after which I emerged something between a drowned rat and a shriveled prune. At least, I was an extremely contented rat.
I went back to the bedroom and proceeded to put my close on for the day as I muttered to myself, "clothing clothing everywhere and not a shackle in sight." I headed to the kitchen to throw together a quick breakfast which was usually coffee and a quick bowl of cereal. I was just about to leave when he came out of his bedroom and burst my bubble: he reminded me that I had better be in shorts, shackles and gagged no later than seven o'clock each night for this week. He also told me that he might not be here at that particular time but he had set up a camera with a date time imprint on the picture so there would be no mistakes. He even set this cute little tripod underneath the camera as he set it near the TV. Not thinking that that would be much for the problem since I got home about five, it was no big deal, except that once again, even without the gag, I'd be in those shackles and cuffs for another week now. Well, I guess I can't complain too loudly since I sort of agreed to it and now it was just a matter of upholding my word. At that point, although uncertain, I thought I heard this little voice whispering in my left ear, "Kings thrones and fortunes have been lost by those attempting to uphold their word."
I summarily dismissed that as either some indigestion or my mind was playing its usual tricks on me.
That day at work was uneventful and I returned home, about 5:15 PM. On the kitchen table, all by itself, was this note which read, "by seven o'clock or you are mine for an additional two days." As if I really needed him to tell me that again! What did he suppose I was thinking about all day at work?
Oh well, time for a bit of dinner, a good beer, and a little TV. I proceeded to so indulge myself although not necessarily in that order. At a quarter of seven, being one not to take any unnecessary risks, I stripped out of my clothes and into that military swimsuit. I then took the shackles and clamp them around my ankles and did the same with the handcuffs to my wrists.
Shit! I forgot the gag! Waddling as fast as I could back to the bedroom, I found it. And as I was waddling back, was attempting to put it on at the same time. If you look at the picture, you can see how stupid that idea really was. I could hardly bend over far enough and I was standing still to get my hands behind my head debacle the gag on much less when I was trying to walk rapidly at the same time. I reached the camera and looked at the clock: 6:55 PM. I finished studying at the gag and locking it as instructed (although I really didn't know about that part of the deal) and pushed the button and sent back within range. The camera flashed, seemed to grind a little bit and all was silent.
As I surveyed my immediate vicinity I realized that open bottle of beer was now going to have to wait until after 11 o'clock before it would reach its demise. I clicked my way back to a reclining position on the couch and watched television most of the rest of the night since I really couldn't do anything else. He came back about 10 PM. He checked me over and apparently approved of what he saw. He then went to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to get himself a midnight-ish snack.
Finally, when 11 o'clock rolled around he came over and unlock the gag removing it from my mouth. At that point I could no longer suffer the eight verbal screams and moans of my open beer bottles sitting in front of me pleading for attention so I picked it up and guzzled the remaining problem was that I still have that Royal Crown hairdressing on my left hand and of course it would not wash off besides, there's no way to get your hands together to work up a lather. Consequently four bath towels. Suffered the loss of their virginity to bid me welcome my forthcoming repast (dinner) with at least clean enough hands the silverware was not going to slip from them on a regular basis. He unlocked the zipper on the helm and extracted what felt like a size 47 sock although I suspect it was merely a 12 or 13 but it's amazing how those things feel like they're growing over time. Steak, potatoes, green beans, spinach, fine wine, and cheesecake for dessert followed by a cup of decaf coffee. At first it was a little awkward trying to navigate that through the leather of the helm, but my stomach easily won that war and in short time all that was left was empty plates, which he picked up, put in the dishwasher, and said why don't you go lie down on the couch and watch some television (shades by this time were pulled).
I think I made some remark about not being sure I was able to sleep in this new arrangement. He replied that after three or four days of that, it wouldn't bother me at all, in fact, it would seem like it grew on me (bastard! The only one that should be getting away with puns is me).
For some strange reason, my mind kept drawing the similarities between his cooking dinner and the expertise of Hannibal Lecter.
The week starts in two days. This has got to change! Besides, I mentally went through my collection of police and other bondage paraphernalia and realized that this could be a long winter indeed.in contents with a certain amount of self-satisfaction.
Next, it was off to bed. Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Crawl into bed. Pull the covers up as far as you can. By this stage of the game, I couldn't even sleep for a while in those things, waking up briefly at about four-hour intervals. What the heck I'm mumbled to myself, I only have four days of this left as I once again drifted back into the tender arms of Morpheus (the God of sleep).
Tuesday when my alarm went off, and went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splash some cold water on my face, shaved (have you ever considered how difficult it is to shave with a razor when your arms can rise no higher than your waist?). Nonetheless, I have waited for copious amounts of blood and managed not to even nick myself. I then wandered into his bedroom to jealously admire him totally sacked out and snoring (a state I myself would've loved to have been in). I nudged his arm a few times only because I couldn't reach far enough to nudge or clobber his shoulder as I expressed most politely I thought and inquiry related to the state and location of the keys. It looked as though I should have brought him a couple of toothpicks to help keep his eyelids open. Nevertheless, all he said was my desk drawer. To which I immediately returned and found the keys just as he said.
Once again, I'm out in free and another day begins.
To make a long story a bit shorter, this routine repeated itself until Saturday morning. At that point, he called me into his room by his computer where he downloaded the pictures from the camera. The strange thing was, the monitor was off although the computer was running. "
"Congratulations, you apparently have made it." "Now we did say that you had to be in the shackles, in the suit, and in the gag by seven o'clock each night or I would have you for an additional two nights for every time that you weren't so attired."
"Yeah, that's right, and I will have earned off the value of these shackles." "Well, let's see how you did:" oops, this one says 7:03 PM. Looks like you missed it by 3 min." I was speechless. I couldn't even form the word What? He went on to the next picture and it showed 7:05 PM. Next one showed 7:02 PM the next one 7:08 PM on the last one 7:01 PM. "Well, it looks like I've got you anyway I want you for the next two weeks! No, no, no, no that can't be right as the clock on the wall above it said I had at least 5 min. to go when I took the picture. "Let's go take a look at it."
We got to the front room as he strolled confidently over to the clock while I clanked and shuffled my way across the room. When I got there he turned on the television to the weather/channel selection station that also broadcast the date and time. All he said as he pointed to the TV was, "look."
I was cross between a state of horror and admiration for him being able to pull another one over on me. The dining room clock was actually 12 min. behind the actual time to which the camera, of course, was set. "Come on, I can't stay in these things for another two weeks. Not only have they probably paid for themselves, but I think that amounts to cruel and unusual punishment." Despite my eloquence and legal argumentation, I feared it was falling on deaf ears.
"You're probably right and we need to change you into something you still need to work off."(What the hell did he mean by that?! Whatever it was, for some reason I didn't think it was going to be in my best interests). He takes the cuffs off, then the shackles then the swimsuit. The hue and cry that I put up on that last one could've been enough on Halloween to perhaps wake the dead however it didn't seem to change his intentions one bit. We were on the first floor of this condominium Association and every time somebody walked past outside the window I found myself making a crash dive behind the couch so they wouldn't look in and see me. "What the hell was keeping him? Let's get on with this and get it over with. Although I knew I was fooling myself in that this one is liable for last two weeks and knowing him, perhaps longer. Finally he comes out in the back room carrying a set of shackles and handcuffs almost identical to the ones he had taken off the difference was there was a meter iron bar between one wrist and the other and one ankle and the other the vertical connections ran from the center of one bar to the center of the other they still only came up to about waist level, so once they were on, I was totally dependent on him for food and drink. I also thought to myself that it was definitely cruel and unusual punishment that the hard drink was situated on top of the refrigerator where the only chance I had of ever reaching was in Seattle would have another great earthquake.
He clamps on the cuffs and my arms are now spread about shoulder-width apart. He then stoops down to affix the ankles despite my protests that at least I should be able to put on a pair of shorts first. He just looked up from his busy work at my ankles and grinned. To this day I am reminded of a cross between Capt. Bligh and the Cheshire cat. He was indeed having fun and it appeared that nothing was going to keep him from his appointed rounds: that meant me.
Imagine my surprise (yeah sure) when he announced that since I had failed his test so badly, that he would have to spice it up a little bit.
"Turnaround and face the window." I did as I was told, keeping a sharp eye out for people strolling along the sidewalk when out of the papers activity brought in with him came one of our old leather helms. This had two eyes and a mouth open, but we had sowed a zipper in the mouth section and dangled a small chain from that zipper. Over my head it went along with my moans and groans, knowing perfectly well what it was. It laced up in back and I thought to myself, "is my had grown that much in just a few years?" Nonetheless pull it tight he did and then came the sound most of us in that situation dread. The click of that padlock at the nape of my neck. He rescinded the bag and grabbed something else that I didn't see and he asked me to turn around. This I did realize my choices now were extremely limited. I had no idea what he was up to as he pushed the top of my head back so I was looking at the ceiling and wondering what he could be up to now when he inserted a Cascades mountain hiking sock in my mouth and immediately zipped that zipper closed.
Now mumbling intelligently is not my strong suit. However, he was certainly able to get the idea I was trying to get across as I proceeded to cast aspersions on his lineage as well as his postmortem destination. He then grabbed my head and pushed me back sitting on the couch. He then straddled my thighs with his knees thus preventing any movement of my hands at all as that metal bar pushed further and further into my naked groin. Placing each hand firmly on either side of my helmet and sticking his head so close all my eyes could behold were his eyes, he then said, "you're Fucked and you did it to yourself. This is your entire outfit for the next two weekends. By seven o'clock every evening throughout the week, this is how you will present yourself and for every deadline you miss, I have you for an additional three days. Remembering that your food and drink among other things totally depend on me during the weekends particularly, in your heart of hearts, you have no problem with that situation, do you?
What could I say or do in that situation? If I pushed it in any way, not only would I be welching on my bet or agreement but I was legitimately afraid of facing a three-day hard-core diet for the next three weekends. I certainly was in no position to challenge him so I took the coward's way out and agreed to the extent my head could still move. When he got off of me I remember looking longingly at that half bottle of beer still on the coffee table that I would likely not get to until 11:00 PM if at all.
"You can't sit in the living room all naked like that for everybody to see (duh, that's what I had been thinking all along---nice of him to finally catch it). The helmet, unfortunately, had a ring directly sown into the top of it. To this ring he attached a short rope. It was long enough to be a most persuasive leash, particularly when he pulled on it my head was pulled down to the level of my waste and my feet were waddling right frantically in an attempt not to fall over. Into the bathroom, we went. He went over to the sink and turn on the water so it was a slightly noisy dribble. He then backed me up to the door, flipping the rope leash over its top as he exited. He then said, "I hope you had a chance to go to the bathroom before all this started today. I won't be back for a few hours. Have fun!" He then pulled the rope as tight as he could and closed the door well I'm sure he put a nice big knot directly on the other side.
Now he knew, as well as I learned, that I could probably reach the inside doorknob with my right hand. I'm sure that is the reason he pulled me as far to the left as possible before closing the door. Try as I would, I couldn't get enough purchase on that had rope to maneuver close enough to the door handle to do any good.
Of course I didn't know whether he, in fact, did take off or whether he was still in the house or for that matter in a chair just the other side of the door. He was easily accomplished at doing any of the above. I leaned back in my prison and with no windows and the lights off the only thing that manifested itself was a constant dribble of water. After a while I was certain that dribble was speaking directly to my bladder and not to me. Yes! I had to go, but on the other hand I also had to hold it. Again I replayed the tape in my mind of my aspersions related to his parentage as well as his sexual practices and even added a few new ones to it, but that did little to distract my attention from my bladder.
I had to get out of there. I had to get that door open. I had to take a leak as I felt by this time, I was so full, that I could practically gargle in it. I had already determined I could not reach the door handle with my right arm so I did something that I suspect neither one of us expected. I rotated my left hand up in my right hand down thus narrowing a major horizontal obstacle and then I attempted to turn so I was facing the door. After a few tries, I was successful in that. My next goal was to push my arm bar as far towards the door handle as possible and then reach with my left hand around this golden orb which was the key to my freedom - - - at least for the moment.
I did it! I made it! I stretching as much as possible I was able to grab the door handle with my left hand. It was downhill all the way, I could feel it, almost as much as I could feel Vesuvius warming up in my bladder. There is however a product that is been on the market for quite a number of years called Royal Crown hairdressing. It is used by those of color to grease down their frilly locks. It is also used for extremely nasty practical jokes. These are the only two applications I have ever been able to discover this product. Would you like to take a guess at what was smeared all over the inside doorknob? Once that slippery stuff gets on you, it does not come off. Not only could I not twist the doorknob now I could not touch or pick up anything with my left hand without it's looking through my grasp. I have no idea how long I stood there, crushed of spirit and full of PISS.
Finally the door opened and there stood the Cheshire cat practically in hysterics , however since I was no longer a part of the door, I was able to quickly waddle the three steps over to the toilet and unleashed the might of Vesuvius therein. Well perhaps it wasn't that dramatic, but it certainly felt good. Then he said to me that dinner was ready and on the table, come when I'm ready. The only problem was that I still have that Royal Crown hairdressing on my left hand and of course it would not wash off besides, there's no way to get your hands together to work up a lather. Consequently four bath towels. Suffered the loss of their virginity to bid me welcome my forthcoming repast (dinner) with at least clean enough hands the silverware was not going to slip from them on a regular basis. He unlocked the zipper on the helm and extracted what felt like a size 47 sock although I suspect it was merely a 12 or 13 but it's amazing how those things feel like they're growing over time. Steak, potatoes, green beans, spinach, fine wine, and cheesecake for dessert followed by a cup of decaf coffee. At first it was a little awkward trying to navigate that through the leather of the helm, but my stomach easily won that war and in short time all that was left was empty plates, which he picked up, put in the dishwasher, and said why don't you go lie down on the couch and watch some television (shades by this time were pulled).
I think I made some remark about not being sure I was able to sleep in this new arrangement. He replied that after three or four days of that, it wouldn't bother me at all, in fact, it would seem like it grew on me (bastard! The only one that should be getting away with puns is me).
For some strange reason, my mind kept drawing the similarities between his cooking dinner and the expertise of Hannibal Lecter.
The week starts in two days. This has got to change! Besides, I mentally went through my collection of police and other bondage paraphernalia and realized that this could be a long winter indeed.
CHAPTER 4
The Week That Was:
Monday morning arrived and I fear to even open my eyes thinking that in light of the past several days this must be a dream. You see, like a hobbit, I like my comforts and so I was snuggled up nicely between a pair of satin sheets in this beautiful big bed and totally free for a change. Was that all a dream (and a bad one at that)? I could certainly hope so.
I eventually arose and patted my way into the bathroom to prepare for another week and certainly another day. Nice warm shower: quite lovely Since the shackles of the previous days wouldn't let me lift my legs high enough to get over the tub and into the shower proper. It's amazing how quickly you can despise having to take sponge baths with a washcloth and operate under the illusion that you're actually clean. I digress.
As a warm water cascaded over my chest and then my shoulders and then finally my scalp I felt like I had been born again: although this time it was in the tub of warm, soapy water. I think I stayed in there until we had just about exhausted the hot water supply after which I emerged something between a drowned rat and a shriveled prune. At least, I was an extremely contented rat.
I went back to the bedroom and proceeded to put my close on for the day as I muttered to myself, "clothing clothing everywhere and not a shackle in sight." I headed to the kitchen to throw together a quick breakfast which was usually coffee and a quick bowl of cereal. I was just about to leave when he came out of his bedroom and burst my bubble: he reminded me that I had better be in shorts, shackles and gagged no later than seven o'clock each night for this week. He also told me that he might not be here at that particular time but he had set up a camera with a date time imprint on the picture so there would be no mistakes. He even set this cute little tripod underneath the camera as he set it near the TV. Not thinking that that would be much for the problem since I got home about five, it was no big deal, except that once again, even without the gag, I'd be in those shackles and cuffs for another week now. Well, I guess I can't complain too loudly since I sort of agreed to it and now it was just a matter of upholding my word. At that point, although uncertain, I thought I heard this little voice whispering in my left ear, "Kings thrones and fortunes have been lost by those attempting to uphold their word."
I summarily dismissed that as either some indigestion or my mind was playing its usual tricks on me.
That day at work was uneventful and I returned home, about 5:15 PM. On the kitchen table, all by itself, was this note which read, "by seven o'clock or you are mine for an additional two days." As if I really needed him to tell me that again! What did he suppose I was thinking about all day at work?
Oh well, time for a bit of dinner, a good beer, and a little TV. I proceeded to so indulge myself although not necessarily in that order. At a quarter of seven, being one not to take any unnecessary risks, I stripped out of my clothes and into that military swimsuit. I then took the shackles and clamp them around my ankles and did the same with the handcuffs to my wrists.
Shit! I forgot the gag! Waddling as fast as I could back to the bedroom, I found it. And as I was waddling back, was attempting to put it on at the same time. If you look at the picture, you can see how stupid that idea really was. I could hardly bend over far enough and I was standing still to get my hands behind my head debacle the gag on much less when I was trying to walk rapidly at the same time. I reached the camera and looked at the clock: 6:55 PM. I finished studying at the gag and locking it as instructed (although I really didn't know about that part of the deal) and pushed the button and sent back within range. The camera flashed, seemed to grind a little bit and all was silent.
As I surveyed my immediate vicinity I realized that open bottle of beer was now going to have to wait until after 11 o'clock before it would reach its demise. I clicked my way back to a reclining position on the couch and watched television most of the rest of the night since I really couldn't do anything else. He came back about 10 PM. He checked me over and apparently approved of what he saw. He then went to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to get himself a midnight-ish snack.
Finally, when 11 o'clock rolled around he came over and unlock the gag removing it from my mouth. At that point I could no longer suffer the eight verbal screams and moans of my open beer bottles sitting in front of me pleading for attention so I picked it up and guzzled the remaining problem was that I still have that Royal Crown hairdressing on my left hand and of course it would not wash off besides, there's no way to get your hands together to work up a lather. Consequently four bath towels. Suffered the loss of their virginity to bid me welcome my forthcoming repast (dinner) with at least clean enough hands the silverware was not going to slip from them on a regular basis. He unlocked the zipper on the helm and extracted what felt like a size 47 sock although I suspect it was merely a 12 or 13 but it's amazing how those things feel like they're growing over time. Steak, potatoes, green beans, spinach, fine wine, and cheesecake for dessert followed by a cup of decaf coffee. At first it was a little awkward trying to navigate that through the leather of the helm, but my stomach easily won that war and in short time all that was left was empty plates, which he picked up, put in the dishwasher, and said why don't you go lie down on the couch and watch some television (shades by this time were pulled).
I think I made some remark about not being sure I was able to sleep in this new arrangement. He replied that after three or four days of that, it wouldn't bother me at all, in fact, it would seem like it grew on me (bastard! The only one that should be getting away with puns is me).
For some strange reason, my mind kept drawing the similarities between his cooking dinner and the expertise of Hannibal Lecter.
The week starts in two days. This has got to change! Besides, I mentally went through my collection of police and other bondage paraphernalia and realized that this could be a long winter indeed.in contents with a certain amount of self-satisfaction.
Next, it was off to bed. Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Crawl into bed. Pull the covers up as far as you can. By this stage of the game, I couldn't even sleep for a while in those things, waking up briefly at about four-hour intervals. What the heck I'm mumbled to myself, I only have four days of this left as I once again drifted back into the tender arms of Morpheus (the God of sleep).
Tuesday when my alarm went off, and went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, splash some cold water on my face, shaved (have you ever considered how difficult it is to shave with a razor when your arms can rise no higher than your waist?). Nonetheless, I have waited for copious amounts of blood and managed not to even nick myself. I then wandered into his bedroom to jealously admire him totally sacked out and snoring (a state I myself would've loved to have been in). I nudged his arm a few times only because I couldn't reach far enough to nudge or clobber his shoulder as I expressed most politely I thought and inquiry related to the state and location of the keys. It looked as though I should have brought him a couple of toothpicks to help keep his eyelids open. Nevertheless, all he said was my desk drawer. To which I immediately returned and found the keys just as he said.
Once again, I'm out in free and another day begins.
To make a long story a bit shorter, this routine repeated itself until Saturday morning. At that point, he called me into his room by his computer where he downloaded the pictures from the camera. The strange thing was, the monitor was off although the computer was running. "
"Congratulations, you apparently have made it." "Now we did say that you had to be in the shackles, in the suit, and in the gag by seven o'clock each night or I would have you for an additional two nights for every time that you weren't so attired."
"Yeah, that's right, and I will have earned off the value of these shackles." "Well, let's see how you did:" oops, this one says 7:03 PM. Looks like you missed it by 3 min." I was speechless. I couldn't even form the word What? He went on to the next picture and it showed 7:05 PM. Next one showed 7:02 PM the next one 7:08 PM on the last one 7:01 PM. "Well, it looks like I've got you anyway I want you for the next two weeks! No, no, no, no that can't be right as the clock on the wall above it said I had at least 5 min. to go when I took the picture. "Let's go take a look at it."
We got to the front room as he strolled confidently over to the clock while I clanked and shuffled my way across the room. When I got there he turned on the television to the weather/channel selection station that also broadcast the date and time. All he said as he pointed to the TV was, "look."
I was cross between a state of horror and admiration for him being able to pull another one over on me. The dining room clock was actually 12 min. behind the actual time to which the camera, of course, was set. "Come on, I can't stay in these things for another two weeks. Not only have they probably paid for themselves, but I think that amounts to cruel and unusual punishment." Despite my eloquence and legal argumentation, I feared it was falling on deaf ears.
"You're probably right and we need to change you into something you still need to work off."(What the hell did he mean by that?! Whatever it was, for some reason I didn't think it was going to be in my best interests). He takes the cuffs off, then the shackles then the swimsuit. The hue and cry that I put up on that last one could've been enough on Halloween to perhaps wake the dead however it didn't seem to change his intentions one bit. We were on the first floor of this condominium Association and every time somebody walked past outside the window I found myself making a crash dive behind the couch so they wouldn't look in and see me. "What the hell was keeping him? Let's get on with this and get it over with. Although I knew I was fooling myself in that this one is liable for last two weeks and knowing him, perhaps longer. Finally he comes out in the back room carrying a set of shackles and handcuffs almost identical to the ones he had taken off the difference was there was a meter iron bar between one wrist and the other and one ankle and the other the vertical connections ran from the center of one bar to the center of the other they still only came up to about waist level, so once they were on, I was totally dependent on him for food and drink. I also thought to myself that it was definitely cruel and unusual punishment that the hard drink was situated on top of the refrigerator where the only chance I had of ever reaching was in Seattle would have another great earthquake.
He clamps on the cuffs and my arms are now spread about shoulder-width apart. He then stoops down to affix the ankles despite my protests that at least I should be able to put on a pair of shorts first. He just looked up from his busy work at my ankles and grinned. To this day I am reminded of a cross between Capt. Bligh and the Cheshire cat. He was indeed having fun and it appeared that nothing was going to keep him from his appointed rounds: that meant me.
Imagine my surprise (yeah sure) when he announced that since I had failed his test so badly, that he would have to spice it up a little bit.
"Turnaround and face the window." I did as I was told, keeping a sharp eye out for people strolling along the sidewalk when out of the papers activity brought in with him came one of our old leather helms. This had two eyes and a mouth open, but we had sowed a zipper in the mouth section and dangled a small chain from that zipper. Over my head it went along with my moans and groans, knowing perfectly well what it was. It laced up in back and I thought to myself, "is my had grown that much in just a few years?" Nonetheless pull it tight he did and then came the sound most of us in that situation dread. The click of that padlock at the nape of my neck. He rescinded the bag and grabbed something else that I didn't see and he asked me to turn around. This I did realize my choices now were extremely limited. I had no idea what he was up to as he pushed the top of my head back so I was looking at the ceiling and wondering what he could be up to now when he inserted a Cascades mountain hiking sock in my mouth and immediately zipped that zipper closed.
Now mumbling intelligently is not my strong suit. However, he was certainly able to get the idea I was trying to get across as I proceeded to cast aspersions on his lineage as well as his postmortem destination. He then grabbed my head and pushed me back sitting on the couch. He then straddled my thighs with his knees thus preventing any movement of my hands at all as that metal bar pushed further and further into my naked groin. Placing each hand firmly on either side of my helmet and sticking his head so close all my eyes could behold were his eyes, he then said, "you're Fucked and you did it to yourself. This is your entire outfit for the next two weekends. By seven o'clock every evening throughout the week, this is how you will present yourself and for every deadline you miss, I have you for an additional three days. Remembering that your food and drink among other things totally depend on me during the weekends particularly, in your heart of hearts, you have no problem with that situation, do you?
What could I say or do in that situation? If I pushed it in any way, not only would I be welching on my bet or agreement but I was legitimately afraid of facing a three-day hard-core diet for the next three weekends. I certainly was in no position to challenge him so I took the coward's way out and agreed to the extent my head could still move. When he got off of me I remember looking longingly at that half bottle of beer still on the coffee table that I would likely not get to until 11:00 PM if at all.
"You can't sit in the living room all naked like that for everybody to see (duh, that's what I had been thinking all along---nice of him to finally catch it). The helmet, unfortunately, had a ring directly sown into the top of it. To this ring he attached a short rope. It was long enough to be a most persuasive leash, particularly when he pulled on it my head was pulled down to the level of my waste and my feet were waddling right frantically in an attempt not to fall over. Into the bathroom, we went. He went over to the sink and turn on the water so it was a slightly noisy dribble. He then backed me up to the door, flipping the rope leash over its top as he exited. He then said, "I hope you had a chance to go to the bathroom before all this started today. I won't be back for a few hours. Have fun!" He then pulled the rope as tight as he could and closed the door well I'm sure he put a nice big knot directly on the other side.
Now he knew, as well as I learned, that I could probably reach the inside doorknob with my right hand. I'm sure that is the reason he pulled me as far to the left as possible before closing the door. Try as I would, I couldn't get enough purchase on that had rope to maneuver close enough to the door handle to do any good.
Of course I didn't know whether he, in fact, did take off or whether he was still in the house or for that matter in a chair just the other side of the door. He was easily accomplished at doing any of the above. I leaned back in my prison and with no windows and the lights off the only thing that manifested itself was a constant dribble of water. After a while I was certain that dribble was speaking directly to my bladder and not to me. Yes! I had to go, but on the other hand I also had to hold it. Again I replayed the tape in my mind of my aspersions related to his parentage as well as his sexual practices and even added a few new ones to it, but that did little to distract my attention from my bladder.
I had to get out of there. I had to get that door open. I had to take a leak as I felt by this time, I was so full, that I could practically gargle in it. I had already determined I could not reach the door handle with my right arm so I did something that I suspect neither one of us expected. I rotated my left hand up in my right hand down thus narrowing a major horizontal obstacle and then I attempted to turn so I was facing the door. After a few tries, I was successful in that. My next goal was to push my arm bar as far towards the door handle as possible and then reach with my left hand around this golden orb which was the key to my freedom - - - at least for the moment.
I did it! I made it! I stretching as much as possible I was able to grab the door handle with my left hand. It was downhill all the way, I could feel it, almost as much as I could feel Vesuvius warming up in my bladder. There is however a product that is been on the market for quite a number of years called Royal Crown hairdressing. It is used by those of color to grease down their frilly locks. It is also used for extremely nasty practical jokes. These are the only two applications I have ever been able to discover this product. Would you like to take a guess at what was smeared all over the inside doorknob? Once that slippery stuff gets on you, it does not come off. Not only could I not twist the doorknob now I could not touch or pick up anything with my left hand without it's looking through my grasp. I have no idea how long I stood there, crushed of spirit and full of PISS.
Finally the door opened and there stood the Cheshire cat practically in hysterics , however since I was no longer a part of the door, I was able to quickly waddle the three steps over to the toilet and unleashed the might of Vesuvius therein. Well perhaps it wasn't that dramatic, but it certainly felt good. Then he said to me that dinner was ready and on the table, come when I'm ready. The only problem was that I still have that Royal Crown hairdressing on my left hand and of course it would not wash off besides, there's no way to get your hands together to work up a lather. Consequently four bath towels. Suffered the loss of their virginity to bid me welcome my forthcoming repast (dinner) with at least clean enough hands the silverware was not going to slip from them on a regular basis. He unlocked the zipper on the helm and extracted what felt like a size 47 sock although I suspect it was merely a 12 or 13 but it's amazing how those things feel like they're growing over time. Steak, potatoes, green beans, spinach, fine wine, and cheesecake for dessert followed by a cup of decaf coffee. At first it was a little awkward trying to navigate that through the leather of the helm, but my stomach easily won that war and in short time all that was left was empty plates, which he picked up, put in the dishwasher, and said why don't you go lie down on the couch and watch some television (shades by this time were pulled).
I think I made some remark about not being sure I was able to sleep in this new arrangement. He replied that after three or four days of that, it wouldn't bother me at all, in fact, it would seem like it grew on me (bastard! The only one that should be getting away with puns is me).
For some strange reason, my mind kept drawing the similarities between his cooking dinner and the expertise of Hannibal Lecter.
The week starts in two days. This has got to change! Besides, I mentally went through my collection of police and other bondage paraphernalia and realized that this could be a long winter indeed.