[This story originally appeared in Issue 7 (November/December 1988), our first issue devoted to hazing and initiations. BW]
My first real brush with bondage occurred when I was 19, and a sophomore in school, It was the end of my team's spring season, and I had just been elected captain for next year (in something of an upset). Normally, the team didn't haze its players very hard; initiations consisted of drinking a bit of beer, being thrown in the shower, or being "flesh-piled" "gang-tackled." However, as an uppity sophomore (and a captain!), I received some special treatment.
On the fateful night, I was lying peacefully asleep in my dorm room when the door burst open and three of my teammates leapt on me, rope in hand. The struggle was brief and one-sided, and I quickly found my wrists tied tightly behind me with my arms crossed, and with rope bound tightly around my bare ankles and above my knees. At some point I yelled for help to my roommate (who appeared to be sleeping through all this, although he later admitted to me that he just didn't want to get involved). This brought one of my captors' hands across my mouth. "Better gag him," someone said. I felt a sock being stuffed in my mouth, and another sock was tied around my neck, painfully tight, to keep it in place. I was blindfolded with one of my own bandanas. I was sleeping naked, as usual, so they rolled me up in one of my blankets and dragged me out to a car (my car, in fact). I was thrown into the back seat, and off we went.
During the ride I tried struggling with my bonds, and particularly with the wretched gag, but to no avail. I did manage to scrape my blindfold off, but it was immediately tied back on (much tighter, of course). My companions tried to cheer me up by hinting at all the dire things in store for me as the car twisted and turned through the narrow streets of campus. When we stopped, they carried me into a building and down some steps. They laid me down on a rug, which smelled of stale beer. The rope around my ankles was fastened to a post, so that my legs and ass were lifted off the ground and I was lying on my back and shoulders. "Don't go away," they said. I didn't.
It seemed like I lay there for a long time, but it was probably only a few minutes before I heard people coming back. The rope holding my ankles up was released, and quickly fastened to something else. Rather, I should say someone else, since I was being tied face-to-face with another bound person. We were bound together with rope at our ankles, at our waists, and under and around our arms. I couldn't tell who the other person was, except that he was shorter than I was and had some shorts on. He was clearly gagged and blindfolded as well.
At this point we were told that this was a test of our ability to work together as captain and co-captain, and that we had 15 minutes to free ourselves or we would each get 20 whacks with the paddle. The paddle was demonstrated once on each of us, as incentive, I suppose. At least I knew who my involuntary buddy was; it was my co-captain, Dave. Well, we provided 15 minutes of entertainment for our audience (most of the team), and we managed to rub our blindfolds and our gags off of each other's faces, but there was no chance of untying the knots. We rolled around a lot and worked up a good sweat, but that was about it.
Once time was called, our captors jumped on us and competed to see who could swat our asses the hardest with the ping-pong paddles. We each got 30 strokes (they were getting pretty drunk, and could hardly count).
At this point I started getting a hard-on while lying beneath Dave. I could feel every muscle in his body twitch when he was hit. It was an amazing sensation—I don't think I've ever felt closer to anyone in my life. For what it's worth, Dave had a hard-on too, and he was as straight as they come. After it was all over, I thought about talking to him about it, but I never had the nerve. I tried setting up a similar initiation for our successors, but it never worked out. And that was my initiation to my team, and to an interest in bondage.
Hey, Bob.
I wrote this story on the train home from an NYBC meeting in the fall of 1988. It contains healthy portions of truthiness.
Guess the sport and I'll send a picture :>
- Adric
Posted by: Adric | July 29, 2008 at 05:12 PM
Just saw your comment. Could the sport have been Ultimate Frisbie?
Posted by: Bob Wingate | May 14, 2009 at 01:30 PM