[This is a new story from a reader who's eager to make contact with possible bondage buddies, and pleaded with me to include his email address, which I do, at the end. I often respond well to pleading. BW]
I have submitted bondage stories to several sites. Some were fiction, some true, all dealing with my lifelong frustration in finding a dedicated bondage partner, either a woman who enjoyed being tied up or a woman or man dedicated to tying me up. I managed to have some short term affairs with women, including a couple of visits to prostitutes, which were a bit expensive. I also, in desperation, went a male "massage therapist" who tied me up naked in a chair while I instructed him, following which he did some mild teasing and then masturbated me. Because I had to instruct him, it was just a little better than self-bondage.
After my posted account of the visit to the male therapist, I hoped for some response, but none came…for several months. Then, quite unexpectedly, I received the following email:
“Hello Strand, I enjoyed your story. I must say that I empathized with the massage therapist more than with you, because I love tying guys up. Hope you write more. Rick"
My response to Rick’s response: "Thanks for the note. I enjoyed writing and posting my experience, but even more the realization that someone out there— you—got something from it. The experience and the writing of it were a little weird for me as I am basically straight but I did it just to be able to get tied up like when I was a kid playing cowboys and Indians and such. Thanks again, and write anytime."
And so my correspondence with Rick began. "So, you’re straight, hmm,” he wrote back. “I confess that I’m gay. And like to tie up guys; preferably big, strong, powerful guys instead of the younger, slender, meek guys that most of us seem to prefer. Like with you, this began in childhood games."
"Guess I’m your kind of guy,” I replied. “6', 190 lbs, 41 yrs, fairly heavily muscled, financially secure, control over my subordinates (but not my desire to be subordinated in my 'other' life).”
Rick emailed back: "I am one of those slender, younger guys that I do not prefer. A bit Tom Cruise-like at 5'8", 150 lb, 32 yrs. You have age, height and weight on me. But, apparently, I have the experience. A good match, if I do say so. Where do you live? Too far away probably. Tricky Rick."
"'Tricky' huh? Interesting. Maryland suburbs of D.C. You? Thinking what I'm thinking?”
"Gettysburg, PA area. Not far at all, if you dare try for what you’ve been looking for. And, yes, very tricky, but pretty harmless. Well, where do we stand, Strand? I think we should either end this or you should put yourself at risk with…Tricky Rick."
“Assuming I’m willing to put myself at 'risk', what’s the next step?"
"You visit me at my small farm outside of Gettysburg for a chat, and maybe… Or, if you really feel too much at risk, we can meet in a more public place for mutual evaluation.”
I felt safe enough to meet him alone and then decide. After all, I had the size advantage on him…at least until I allowed myself to be tied up. Even then, from my experience, I’d be able to escape; I've always been good at that…too good. So I wrote: "Your farm." I suggested a Saturday mid-morning, just so I could make the hour-long drive easily. Also: "Now we might see just how 'tricky' you are. One thing I have to mention: you’re gay and I’m sort of straight. I know I might be put at 'risk.' But are you willing to use…protection…if things go that way? Not suggesting that they should, of course." I felt a bit foolish for making such a hint. Would this encourage Rick to 'go that way'? Or would he be somehow insulted and end this interesting exchange?
Back from Rick: "My farm and your time good for me. And, yes, the few times I get to be actively sexual, I always use protection for both. Not that things necessarily will go that far, but, who knows? We may just chat and split. Or…?" And he added directions from Route 15 to his farm where he lived while he taught at Gettysburg College.
I had been seeking a skilled and enthusiastic person to tie me up inescapably for a very long time. While I expected that this might be the very opportunity I had sought, I was, nevertheless, very nervous as I followed the directions to Rick's farm. He had given me his phone number in case I got lost, and once or twice I considered calling and opting out of our rendezvous. But I drove on, and turned into the fairly long drive which led to a converted-to-modern but traditional-appearing farmhouse, a bank barn and a few other outbuildings. It being July, the day was becoming very warm, so I was wearing the denim cutoffs, tee and New Balance running shoes without socks that Rick had suggested in a tone that made it more like an order. The costume was ok for pumping gas, but also made me feel a little vulnerable as I stopped my car and got out, maybe because I wasn’t wearing underwear, again per his "suggestion/order".
Rick came to meet me, dressed much as I was, but with long jeans instead of shorts, plus socks under his shoes. I was immediately disarmed by his pleasant greeting and his stature, which was much slighter than mine. I knew that I could still leave if I chose.
Rick said, "Want to look around my farm before we go in and have our chat?" We did. He showed me the barn, which was straw filled above the empty stables, then the other building, after which he took me on a ride in his Gator to look over the fields and apple orchard, which was managed by a local farmer instead of himself.
Then Rick ushered me into his home through the kitchen. "Please take off your shoes, and leave them here, by the door. Helps keep the house clean." I did, becoming barefoot, while he still had on socks, making me feel less clothed and more vulnerable.
Our chat began thus innocently enough with me complimenting him on his home. After a while we found ourselves talking about the games we had played in childhood, his having taken place much more recently than mine. I told him how most often I was tricked into winning and tying up my playmates, while I really wanted to be tied up myself, though this happened often enough to keep me interested in playing the games. And Rick told me quite the opposite: how he was sometimes almost bullied into being tied up by the bigger boys, even stripped and playfully 'tortured' once. Which he did not forget until one summer when only one boy was home to play with, and let Rick tie him up. Rick had become fascinated by how the other boy grew an erection as Rick tied him.
"That was the beginning," Rick said. "I had a pretty good stretch there when I got to tie up a lot of guys, until a couple of years ago when I moved here from the city. Then I seemed to sorta lose contact. And, yes, there was a lot of sex with my ‘prisoners.’"
"Frustrating, isn't it; to learn to like something like that and then not have it, and have to be careful about bringing it up with anyone you know? Frankly, I know some women who might like to play, but I don't dare bring it up. Afraid they might think I’m some kind of pervert for wanting to be tied up by them. Guess I am, actually."
"Not really. Lots of people like it; just hard to make contact."
Rick asked if I would let him tie me up. He said that he’d really like to do it, but it was up to me. I had reason to hesitate, being alone on the farm with him and not having had the presence of mind to leave a clue at home as to where I had gone. But, after the barren years, I really wanted it, despite the obvious risks. So I didn’t hesitate too long. I said, "Sure, if you really want to."
"Good," he said. "Let's go down to my rec room. You have any preference, or shall I just do something I have in mind for you?"
I had already had enough of tentative partners over the years, women and men who didn't know what to do without prompting.
“If you don't mind, I'd like you to take charge and do what you want as long as I get to leave undamaged." I chuckled to lighten my remarks.
Oh, you'll be alright in the end,” Rick said, chuckling too, to lighten the mood and put me at ease, as he led the way to his basement rec room. “Might seem a little frightening at first as you lose control."
The rec room appeared “normal” enough, which is to say there were no obvious bondage fixtures in it. I liked that. More recreationally amateurish. "I use this room sometimes for parties, so can't have a rack and so forth. But we'll make do ok. Why don’t you take off your clothes and come over here." He beckoned me to a round supporting post, about six inches in diameter.
Even though I had been naked before with a man while tied up, I still felt intimidated at the thought of being alone and nude in front of Rick. It was not at all like being in a gym shower room or another 'natural' situation. But I had asked Rick to take charge of the scene and didn't want to risk ruining it before it began, so I stripped down, which didn’t take long, considering all I was wearing was a tee shirt and cutoffs.
Rick liked what he saw. I was well muscled and had a large set of genitals. He grinned. "This is gonna be fun,” he said. “Ok, stand with your back against the post."
He pulled my arms back behind the post and crossed my wrists one over the other. This is it, I thought, as he wound the slender rope tightly around them, first, horizontal, then vertical, finally the cinch and knot. I knew right away that this guy was no stranger to tying guys up; he had the skill and the enthusiasm.
"Now, big guy," he said. "I guess I've got you now, for all your advantage in height, weight and muscles. Your ass is mine. Having fun yet?"
This was new territory for me, being lashed up nude by an almost-stranger. He guided me down onto my knees so that my feet were on the floor behind the post, my bare soles exposed. I began to wonder if I’d made a serious mistake…until he said, "By the way, now that I've got you anyway and there’s no point in lying to you, let me reassure you that you are definitely safe. But—think about it—I do have to do things to you to make you know you’re really helpless. Things you probably wouldn’t put up with if you weren’t tied up."
He could probably see the relief in my eyes. "I guess that's the risk I took,” I said. “Thanks for the reassurance though. Damn, Rick, you’re good. I won’t get out of this easily." Now he was behind me, tying my ankles together behind the post, making it impossible for me to rise. I’ve always had a fetish for women's bound bare feet; it was funny to find myself humiliatingly in a similar pose.
Rick used another rope to tie my forearms and upper arms as close to the post as he could tug them, which drew me back against it firmly from head to ass.
I couldn’t help feeling flattered when Rick stood in front of me to survey his work, and said, "Damn, you look good. All those muscles, and that set of cock and balls. Getting a little hardon there, too. Well, guess I better finish up, then do a couple of chores."
"Finish up" meant forcing a thick ball gag into my mouth. "Forcing" it not because I resisted, since I opened my mouth when he instructed me to, but because it was large and he pushed it behind my teeth instead of stopping between them in such a way that I might spit it out.
Finally, Rick covered my eyes with a thick sleep mask which effectively shut out all light.
"Now, my friend, I have to put your car away so no one will think someone is home and disturb us. While I’m at it, I’ll go through it and your wallet and learn just who you are. I’ll bet your name’s not really Strand Ankler, is it? You’re not talking, so I guess you don’t want to take me up on that bet."
Let me jump ahead and say right now that things turned out alright for me after Rick learned lots about me; but right then, as he told me his plan, I was scared. I was helpless to prevent anything Rick wanted to do; previous captors had never done anything like this. I was, alone, naked, in a strange place, prisoner of a relative stranger, with no one knowing of my predicament, bound, gagged, blindfolded, my personal property about to be searched, my car to be driven without my permission. It was fortunate that Rick had reassured me that all would end wel, since his reassurance was all that prevented me from yielding to terror.
For a while I did try to untie myself, with no success at all. Then, secure in the knowledge of my total helplessness, I let myself fall into a peaceful limbo, experience a new, but long hoped-for, pleasure. I remembered Rick's triumphant smile as he gazed down at me before applying my gag and blindfold. So I wasn’t all alone with my strange desires. Not only that, but I felt myself kind of prized, at last. My peace was so complete that I almost felt intruded upon when Rick returned after a half-hour or so.
When he did return, Rick said, "Well now, Mr. (no real name here although he had it) of (my real address) who works at (my employer) whose ex's name is (my former wife's name) and who banks at (my bank) and whose checking account has $7,856 (which told me he had found my card and PIN.) I had a sinking feeling. But he had reassured me earlier. Had he lied? "You should be more careful when you go on these outings, Strand. (back to my bondage game name) Now, my friend, let's just get this gag out so you can answer a few questions. Actually, quite a few. Actually, an inquisition or interrogation. Under torture of course."
From this point it’s difficult to order the progress of my experience. Rick questioned me for a long time about my real and closet lives and learned quite a bit about me. I was helpless on my knees, which made me submissive to his questioning, besides which he “tortured” me, though in no permanently injurious ways. For instance, he applied clips to my nipples—a fairly standard practise from what I’d read. He also whipped my bare soles and thighs. He slapped my face. But more than anything, he extracted my secrets from me through the intimidation of him being free, on his feet and clothed, while I was bound, kneeling and naked.
Seemingly satisfied with his knowledge of my history and fantasies, Rick proceeded to photograph me from several angles, something I only learned later, since I was still blindfolded when he did this. I also learned that he used a self-timer on his camera to include himself in a couple of photos…when he finally orally raped me. With a condom I knew, from the feel and the taste.
The oral rape began when Rick announced that he was removing his clothes. Then I felt something warm against the side of my face. "Know what this is?" he asked. I did not. "It's my cock and balls. If you ask me to screw you in your mouth, I will put on a condom. If not, we will do it bare. Do you understand?" I said that I did and, having no choice because of the way I was bound, I asked him to let me take him in my mouth. Which I opened when I felt him against my lips, knowing that to not do so promptly would surely be a cause for punishment. (Confession: it was not so bad, and even gave me a kind of feeling of power when he finally gasped and groaned during his orgasm.) I'd been made a cocksucker.
Following my rape and a bit of cleanup, Rick again gagged me, this time with a bit-type gag which made me feel like an animal. With it in my mouth, I could make sounds and even sort of speak, but it was so animal-like that I was humiliated by it and shortly gave up. Next, Rick untied my wrists and arms from the post and helped me to lie forward on my stomach. Even though my hands were free for a very short time, he retained control over me because of the way my legs were still tied around the post. As I felt Rick mount my upper thighs, I thought he was going to rape me again…this time in the ass. But if so, he wasn’t about to do it yet.
What he did do was tie my arms again, this time forearms together, wrist to elbow, across the small of my back, one above the other. Then, to prevent me from pulling them apart, though I was really too tightly bound for that, he pulled the rope around my upper arms several times and cinched it. When he was sure I could not get my hands free, he untied my ankles from behind the post and helped me to stand, after which he removed my blindfold. As I stood there uncertainly, Rick made a sliding loop in the end of a longish rope and put it around my ball-sac, thus leashing me.
For perhaps a half hour, he toyed with me and took pictures. At some point during this period, he led me to a full length mirror and made me look at myself. Some sight, bound, bitted like an animal, leashed, naked, and him—now nude himself—handling me. He even took some pictures standing behind me with me facing the mirror so that my backside and arm bondage were also visible. By now Rick had a variety of pictures of me, which I knew he could blackmail me with, if he chose. Not to spoil this account, I will say that he never did blackmail me, but I didn’t know then that he wouldn't.
It had been about an hour since Rick had orally raped me, and by now he had recovered sexually. Using the leash around my sac, he led me to a long coffee table. He forced/helped me to lie face down on it with my head sort of dangling over one end, vulnerable to another forced blowjob. Then he spread my legs and tied my ankles to the separate end legs. Finally, he tied a rope around one leg, just above the knee, reached under the table and tugged before tying the other end around the other knee, which effectively opened my ass.
Rick was a wonderful combination of relentless but gentle captor. As I lay spread open, he began to carefully massage and lubricate me, first on the insides of my buttocks, then gently all the way inside me as far as his finger would go. "You know what's coming, don't you? But not just yet. I have a friend on the West Coast I've been emailing with, and he knows about you and your writing. Now I’m going to send him a couple of pictures, tell him how I have you tied, and let him tell me what to do to you next. I guess we both suspect what that will be."
I lay there, spread and lubed, and helplessly waited while Rick used his computer nearby to chat with his friend about me, and send pictures. "Hey, Strand, know what Bob says I should do? He thinks you should be plugged and done in your mouth again before I screw your ass. I kind of owe him, so guess that’s the program.”
Once I was plugged, Rick took the next instruction from his West Coast friend Bob. "Bob says I should do you without a condom,” Rick said. “I don't think that would be quite fair, do you?" I shook my head no. "Tell you what: I'll take out your gag and slap you around some with my cock. If you make any fuss at all, I'll do what Bob said. Otherwise, like before, if you ask me to make you take me in your mouth, I'll use a condom. Got that?"
Rick lowered himself gently onto my head and dangled his balls in my face. He swung his penis in slaps against my face. After he made me kiss the side of his shaft, I finally begged him to let me give him a blowjob. Which he did after putting on a condom.
All in all, Rick was pretty incredible. He must have sensed how I was beginning to feel about myself: a cocksucker, butt-plugged, about to be fucked, homosexual. Now he said to me, in a very chummy way, "Strand, a guy who changes a sparkplug in his car is not a mechanic. A guy who jogs a couple of miles in the morning before going to work is not really a ‘runner’. You’re not a cocksucking homosexual. Enjoy your bondage and don't worry about the rest. I'm mainly doing this to you so you’ll feel really bound and helpless and I’ll feel in total control over a big guy who could beat the shit out of me if he was free.”
And that’s how the remainder of the day, the night, and most of Sunday went. I was given a very few periods of relative freedom…in handcuffs only…so that I could eat a bit, drink a bit, go to the toilet. Then it was back into extreme bondage. Rick tied me in a variety of ways, including hoisting me with my hands above my head in his barn. He forced sex on me at least a half dozen times. He left me alone some to ponder what he was going to do to me next, sometimes while he chatted with his friend Bob.
Finally, on Sunday afternoon, my captor informed me that he was about to free me to go home. He advised me that if, once free, I gave him any trouble (after all, I am strong enough to—as he put it—beat the shit out of him) he or Bob would send my pictures to the appropriate places. By then I was ungagged. I told him I knew what they had on me, and there would be no trouble at all.
I was finally free.
"You've been a great sport,” Rick said, as I was leaving. “I'd like you to come back if you feel like it, after you've…recovered." He could tell by then that I was pleased by what he’d put me through. "And don't worry about the pictures,” he added. “I'll keep your secrets safe."
"You've been a great captor, Rick,” I said. “It's what I've always wanted, well, maybe a little more. Only one problem, really."
"What's that, my friend?"
"You never let me, well . . . ."
"Have an orgasm? Nope. You were a captive for my pleasure. I know you'll go home, think about it, and probably jerk off all night."
I did. And still do quite frequently.
I never saw Rick again. Shortly after our adventure, he sold his farm, quit his tenure at the college, and moved to the West Coast. So here I am again almost burning up with the need to get myself tied up; and no one to do the deed for me. Oh well, maybe this story will get me another response.
Strndnklr@aol.com
Well said.
Posted by: Melba | October 22, 2008 at 07:54 PM
:( If only there were more men like you in the world making blogs like this. Rick is one lucky guy. I don't have any experience or real knowledge of how to tie up a straight muscular guy but I do know I'd love to tease his cock, suck it, and edge him all the while he can't do anything but take it like a man >:). There's just something about a non-consenting straight and muscular guy in bondage that just adds to the control pleasure.
Excellent read though! Your story is one of the few that I've found on the internet about straight guys getting tied up by a gay guy and used.
Posted by: Zhenoc Elenra | April 25, 2009 at 02:36 AM
Opps, I forgot to include my blog. Not sure if you can see my e-mail but I just thought I'd include my blog just in case. :)
Posted by: Zhenoc Elenra | April 25, 2009 at 04:55 AM