June 3, 2000
To My Diary
I wrote a few days ago about how my aunt and Derek tied me up in a straitjacket and kept me bound and gagged at the start of summer vacation so that I couldn’t attend any drinking end-of-the-school-year-graduation parties.
I stayed with my aunt and Derek for a while, looking a bit for a job near the college, and waiting for my grades. On Thursday, Derek got up early in the morning, and had to go to a meeting which kept him away all day. I had some friends over, and we swam in the pool and had a good time. They left before dinner.
At dinner Derek said that he wasn’t feeling well, and that after eating, he would go directly to bed. My aunt said she was really tired, but that she would watch television for a while in the den. I finished up the dishes, my chore, and joined my aunt in the den. Before I could sit, she said, “Bee-bee, go to your room and strip down to your jockey briefs – no, better yet, your jockstrap – and come back and I’ll tie you up for a while.. The tie-up will be something simple, because I’m bushed.”
I hurried to undress and got back quickly My aunt had me put out my hands in front of me, and she tied them with one piece of rope – firmly with the rope going around side to side, and then cinching it between my wrists to secure the rope tightly.
“That’s not much of a tie,” I said. I can undo it with my teeth.
“Well,” said my aunt, “if you get free from this, you can tie me up any time any way you want for as long as you want. How about that?”
“It’s a deal,” I said.
My aunt smiled, and put the red ball-gag into my mouth, bucking the strap firmly behind my head. I showed her how I could reach up with my hands and get to the buckle without much trouble even though it was behind my head. She laughed.
My aunt took me to the corner of the room where she had Derek’s exercise equipment – a treadmill and some weights. She had me sit on the floor and put my bound arms on either side of my knees and pushed them down toward my ankles. Then she took the metal bar that usually held weights and slipped it over my bent elbows and under my knees. I now realized that with the bar there, I could not reach my face with my hands. She put a small weight on each side of the bar and slipped them until they touched my arms, one on each side.
Then she used the little lock-weight to fasten the small weights in place – keeping me from slipping the bar out and freeing myself. It was simple, but I knew I was well bound and would probably not be able to escape.
My aunt then lay back on her recliner chair, and returned to her program. It was about seven o’clock and she was watching Jeopardy.
I was in one far corner of the room, unable to move around much, but I could see my aunt and the television set. After a while, I realized that she had gone to sleep, laying there with her mouth open, snoring softly. So I would have to wait until she woke up to be freed or moved or anything. The tie-up wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was OK. The gag kept me from making much noise, and I didn’t know if she would even hear me over the sound from the television set.
I sat there for over three hours, waiting – not able to do much else. I have found that I like being tied up for long periods at a time, so it wasn’t any problem. She slept though all of the programs, and into the news. Then the news ended and a movie started, and still my aunt was asleep, stirring a little from time to time giving me hope that she would wake up, but she didn’t.
Finally, at just before Midnight (I had been bound for five hours by then), she groggily got up, rubbed her eyes, looked at the clock, slowly moved toward the television set rather unsteadily, turned it off, and looked over at me.
She came over and released one side of the bar the held me, pulled out the bar and helped me stand, arms still tied in front. She took me to the bathroom.
Then we returned to the den where she had me sit again, put the bar back and fastened it.
I thought, she won’t leave me this way all night. But she did, returning to the chair with a blanket where she went back to sleep. It was Derek who found me early the next day – really stiff, sore, and badly needing the bathroom. He removed the weights and the bar, and untied my hands. I removed the gag – my mouth was really sore. I headed for the bathroom pronto while he woke up my sleeping aunt.
At breakfast my aunt apologized for leaving me so long. We laughed about it, and I said that I had enjoyed it very much, which was true. They decided I was either crazy, a good sport, or that I really did love being tied up and gagged. My aunt said that there would be no more time for bondage before I had to return home – which I had to do as I hadn’t found a job near the college – and she hoped I would have a nice summer. I thanked her and Derek again for being understanding, for helping me with my new hobby. I wondered when or if he and my aunt would tie me up again. Should it happen, I’ll write about it but it may be a while.
June 8, 2000
To My Diary
My college career hadn’t exactly ended. I signed up for some graduate classes the next year, so I would be back. Meanwhile, I packed, more or less, and set to return home for the summer.
Then on Friday, just after lunch, my aunt said, “We have an agreement, I can tie you up any time I want, wherever I want, any way I want, dressed any way I want. Right?”
“Right,” I said. I was excited then because I guessed that I was going to get tied up again one more time before heading for home.
“Put on your jock,” my aunt said, “and meet me by the swimming pool.”
When I got there, my aunt fastened a piece of rope to each if my wrists and ankles. Then she took me to the shed where she tied me up before. Inside, she raised one arm, and took the rope and tied it to the an eye-bolt up on the wall so that my hand was outstretched and reaching up at an angle away from my body. She did the same to the other arm. Then she had me spread my legs as wide as I could, and fastened rope to my leg and then straight out to an eye bolt in the wall. She did the same with the other leg. I was now fully stretched out spread-eagle standing in the shed. Finally, my aunt produced the red ball gag and ordered me to open my mouth, and in went the large ball, and she fastened the straps securely around my head.
My aunt stood back and looked at me and smiled. Derek arrived with my aunt’s camera, and as she always does, she took pictures of me.
Then Derek closed the shed and they went away. But I knew that he was close to the shed. He sat on a chair just next to the shed where he could hear any sound I might make. He even looked in on me once.
I stood there for a very long time. I tried a couple of times to make noise to get Derek or aunt’s attention, and Derek looked in to see if I was okay, and he smiled and shut the door again. I was getting tired stretched out that way, but there was little I could do about it.
After what seemed like forever, I heard voices. It was my father and step-mother!! I was really shocked because they weren’t supposed to be there.
I was supposed to be driving home to see them. They were talking to my aunt, and then to Derek as they approached the shed. I was afraid wondering what was going to happen. Why had they driven the 90 plus minutes to join us?
Joking, my aunt said, “I know you’re wondering where Sam is. Well, he often hangs out in here. Let’s look.”
Suddenly the shed door opened, and there stood my aunt, Derek and my parents!!!!! They just stood there looking at me. And I stood there, spread out naked except for my jock, looking back at them and not able to say anything – and I don’t know what I would have said if I could have said anything.
After a very long pause, my father started to laugh. He didn’t seem too upset at all. And my father said, “Well, I knew you don’t seem to have any problems with Sam when he was here, and now I know how you do it.”
My step-mother looked concerned, but she didn’t say much of anything. I knew, however, that she didn’t really approve and was shocked!
As I hung there and watched, Derek and aunt talked about the times that they had tied me up, and that I really seemed to enjoy the experiences. My aunt then produced the picture album with all of the shots she has taken of me in bondage. With each picture there was a copy of the diary entry that I wrote about it. My step-mother and father sat at the table next to the now open shed and slowly leafed through the book, looking at each picture. My step-mother sat with her hand to her mouth, a sign she was at least surprised if not horrified.
“He’s so modest he won’t even let me see him wearing that supporter thing,” my step-mother said pointing to me in my jock, “but he lets me wash it when it’s dirty. Now I can see what it looks like on him. Not much to it is there? Why even bother?” She managed a feeble laugh.
Then they got to the picture of me and Derek bound and gagged together.
“I see you got into the act too Derek,” said my father.
“Just that once,” said Derek. “And I still owe your son for what he did to me that time.”
“Well,” said my father, “I wish I had known that he liked this sort of thing a long time ago. There have been a number of occasions when he was growing up when I would like to have had him tied up. How long has he been there today?”
“Since a little after three,” said Derek.
“Should we take him down?” asked my step-mother. “I’m sure he’s ready to be untied.”
I shook my head, yes, and made noises into the gag.
“We just ignore him when he fusses,” said Derek. “We have an agreement. We can tie him up any time we wish, anywhere we wish, dressed any way we wish, for as long as we wish. He can fuss, but he stays bound and gagged as long as we want him that way. We never do anything that might hurt him. When he can talk I’m sure he’ll tell you that he’s having the time of his life.”
“That sounds like a good agreement to me,” said my father.
“Are you sure he really likes it?” asked my step-mother. “It seems very strange.”
“We think so” said Derek, “but we think you should talk to him about it later.
We think it something you should discuss a lot. But if he really does like it, we think it’s something we should help him with rather than have him get into trouble with strangers or someone else.”
I stayed in the shed for a while longer. My aunt gave my father tips on how to tie me up, and I understood from things she said that my father was a little unhappy that he hadn’t know anything at all about this. He wasn’t bothered so much about my liking to be tied up, but that he hadn’t known about it. My step-mother was a little more upset, wondering why somebody would like being trussed up that way, and she looked a few times at the pictures just shaking her head. “Well,” said my father, “I think we can probably do this for him once in a while without any trouble at all.”
My folks were ready to leave because they wanted to get home before dark. They had come over to help me move back home. My father would drive back in their car with me, my mother would drive my car with my stuff, which my aunt and Derek helped my parents load.
Derek came in and released me, then took me to the bathroom. Then he tied my hands behind my back. He did not remove the gag at all. He then walked me out into the living room where my parents stood with their light summer jackets on. Derek and my aunt and my parents walked with me outside (I was embarrassed – what if someone saw us?), and to my parents’ car.
They put me in the back seat. My step-mother got into my car, my father was driving and I was laying in the back seat, now hog-tied securely. Derek handed my father some rope and a bag.
“Do let him go sometime in the next few days,” said Derek. My father laughed and said, “We’ll think about it. Maybe in a few days.” My aunt said good-bye to my parents. Then we drove away with me laying on the back seat and this time with no tinted windows to hide me from anyone outside. I don’t know if anyone saw me or not, but we made it home in just over an hour and a half without trouble.
On the way home, my father talked to me. “I’m not too surprised that you like being tied up,” he said softly. “I loved it when your mother was alive. She was quite the dominatrix – kept me tied up quite a bit. But Ruth doesn’t go in for it I’m afraid. You come by your love of bondage honestly, and I hope that some day you find a bride who knows how to give you what you need. Meanwhile, be careful that you don’t get yourself into something dangerous. Bondage can be fun, but it can also be deadly.”
I was shocked. My parents had played bondage games before my mother died. My father parked next to the house, my step-mother got out of my car and went inside. My father opened the back door, untied the hog-tie and helped me out of the car, and toward the back door, into the house, and to the living room where my father put me on the floor, retied my legs with the rope Derek had given him, and then refastened a strict hog tie, and sat down.
“We’re sorry that you wouldn’t tell us that you enjoyed being tied up,” my father said. “Kids shouldn’t keep secrets from their parents – even ones as strange as this. Derek and aunt were kind to help you with this new hobby of yours, and I’ll happily do it for you too. We’ll talk more about it later.
I lay there on the floor while my parents brought my things into the house and put them in my room. After a while my father said that he and my step-mother were going to bed, and he started untying me. I tried to indicate that I wanted to stay tied, but my father ignored that and removed the ropes and the gag.
“I wish you had left me tied up all night,” I said.
“Sorry,” said my father. “But we need to talk a lot about this in the morning.
Tonight I need a good night’s sleep, and I don’t want to be worrying about you perhaps choking or something.”
So we all went to bed.
In the morning my step mother asked me if I had liked being tied up, and I emphasized that I sure did.
“Well,” said my step-mother, “Your hobby does seem very very strange to say the least, but if it’s what you like, we would rather have you tied up here at home or with your aunt and Derek than with strangers or somewhere where you might get into trouble or worse. I do worry that there is danger and that we need to be careful with this.”
My father agreed, but he promised to tie me occasionally. Now I’m waiting to see what will happen next.
June 15, 2000
To My Diary
I’ve been writing up my tie-up adventures with my Aunt Helen and her partner, Derek. The last time I wrote, I explained how my aunt and Derek showed me to my parents while I was tied and gagged in the shed by their pool. My aunt explained to my folks how I liked being tied up and how she and Derek had been tying me up while I was staying with them during my senior year at college. I thought my parents would be upset if they knew I liked such a strange activity, and my step-mother was a little upset, but my father was more upset because I had shared this with my aunt and Derek and not with him. He revealed that when my real mother was alive, she was a dominant and that he spent many happy hours in bondage so he understood my enjoyment when tied up. He and I have had long conversations about bondage and what we like about it. My step-mother worried a bit that it was a very odd hobby.
That night my parents took me home still tied and gagged. Starting the next day Dad and I talked a lot about my liking to be tied up. My step-mother said that it was an odd and unusual desire, but probably didn’t hurt anything if we were careful but she was a little apprehensive about it all. My father said that he was still angry that I had told Derek and Aunt Helen and not him, and he said he would make up for lost time.
Over the next week, my father tied me up three times. Twice he tied me in our living room while watching television. I freed myself quickly. He was disappointed that I managed to escape so fast.. Once he had to work at home, so he tied my wrists together, put tape on my mouth, and pulled my arms up over my head to a hook in the ceiling of his work room. I hung there for about an hour and then he said that was enough and he let me go. My father didn’t know much about how to tie me up very well.
After the third try, I talked to my dad and said, “You’ve told me to be honest and so I will. You don’t tie me up very well.”
“Well, I like to be tied up so I can’t free myself. I like to be tied up really tight and secure. I like a gag that really works. I like to be tied for longer than you leave me – and not know when I’m going to be freed I like to be tied really strictly with little opportunity to move.”
“But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But you know as well as I do that it’s fun and it’s pleasurable. We don’t know why, but you and I both find being really tightly tied up enjoyable and thrilling. But I have to know that I can’t get loose, and can’t say anything.
I have to know that someone else is in charge – not paying attention to what I might want. I have to be able to struggle and pretend that I want to be untied. I like to squirm and grunt and groan and beg to be untied but get nowhere. That’s part of the excitement of the game.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. It was your mother who always tied me up, and I haven’t had much experience doing it to someone else. I’ll have to work on it.”
I said that Aunt Helen and Derek had no difficulty keeping me bound, and I told Dad that didn’t need to tie me up so often – that once in a while was better but that each time should be longer – much longer than just an hour or so. I said that my aunt had kept me bound for hours and that I loved it – often over night and longer. I could protest and complain and whine and struggle and they just ignored me. That made it really fun.
“Do you have any ideas?” he asked.
I suggested that my father look again at the pictures my aunt took of me tied up, and gave him some web sites to look at. I gave him one called Boyzbond (www.geocities.com/boyzbond/) which shows men really tightly tied up and gagged.
We talked for a very long time, and my father said that he would see what he could do. My father is a problem solver – it’s part of what he does in his work. He loves a challenge, and he is proud when he manages to find a way to do something that is difficult or seemingly impossible. Meanwhile, he got me a summer job with his company so that I would have an income. I would be doing assigned jobs with no specific hours required – just do the task and then be assigned the next one. The job was temporary as I would be going back to college in the fall for graduate work.
Wednesday the following week at breakfast dad said he would be working at home all day. He asked how I was doing on my current task, and I said that I had it almost completed, well ahead of schedule. He smiled and said that I should finish up eating, then meet him in his office. I went in wondering what he would do. He has a large heavy wood chair in there with a high back and rigid arms..
“Take off all of your clothes,” he said.
He brought out something that I didn’t recognize, and held it up against my lower stomach, and pushed it through between my legs.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a diaper,” he said flatly. “An adult diaper called Depends. This is the overnight adult super-absorbent kind.”
“Yep. It’s a diaper. Been a while since you’ve worn one.”
He fastened the diaper in place with tape strips – it fit firmly around my mid section and looked like a really bulky swim suit.
“Now, if you need to pee,” he said, “you can pee all you want.”
“You’re going to tie me up in this diaper?” I asked.
“That’s the idea,” he smiled. “I hope I’ll get it right this time.”
He had me stand with my back to him and my hands up behind my back with my right palm at my left elbow and vice versa. He tied my wrists to the opposite arm, then reinforced the ties with duct tape, taping my hands firmly to my arms covering my fingers with two or three wraps. Then he took the tape and wrapped it around my body midway between my elbows and shoulders – three times around firmly.
“Let’s hope that holds you,” he smiled.
“I hope so,” I said wondering how far he would go. I began to hope I hadn’t pushed him into doing too much.
Next he picked up a leather gag that he said he had bought especially for me.
He put the plug of the gag into my mouth, and then buckled the straps tightly until my head was surrounded by the leather straps and my mouth sealed by the wide leather band across the front. Next he took a long ace bandage and wrapped it around my head covering the gag tightly, under my chin, leaving open only my nose and my eyes. He used long strips of duct tape to hold the ace bandage in place. So I was then gagged with the leather gag, the ace wrap and wraps of duct tape.
Next he had me sit in the chair. He wrapped rope around my body at my waist, and at chest level securing me to the chair. He reinforced these with wraps of duct tape.
Dad took my legs, one at a time, and bent my knees so that my heels almost touched my hip at the sides of the chair, and he tied them there to the side of the chair. My legs were now hair-pin shaped with my upper legs and legs below my knees almost parallel to each other. He tied my legs firmly. Next he took duct tape and wrapped it over my upper legs, around under the chair and under my lower legs and around back up over my upper legs and he went around three times.
The chair had a tall back which I was now firmly tied to with the tape and rope. It had side bars that went up and a center design with open space between. Dad took the duct tape and started over my mouth area, then around the design part of the chair and back around over my mouth three times. Then he aid the same at the level of my forehead. My head was now firmly fixed to the chair and I could hardly move my head at all. My arms were bound behind my back squeezed between my body and the chair. My legs were bound to the chair with rope and tape. It was by far the strictest tie-up I had ever had It was wonderful! And it was frightening – really frightening. Had we gone too far?
If it was too much, it was all my fault. I had asked for it! And we had not arranged for any way for me to indicate that it was too much.
Dad stood back and looked at me, and I began to wonder how long he would keep me this way. It was really strict.
After a while my step-mother came in to look. She said, “He seems to be tied up nicely this time. I hope he likes it. It still really bothers me to see him this way. I don’t know what you two see in this strange activity.”
“Oh, he’s just fine,” my dad laughed. “He’s having the time of his life.”
She left shaking her head and without another comment.
“Now,” said my dad looking at me, “get out of that. This is what you said you wanted, and it’s what you’ve got. You’re going to be there for a while – a long time, so enjoy.”
“Wow,” I thought. “This is really something”. It’s what I said I wanted, only suddenly I wasn’t so sure. It was so strict and tight that I couldn’t move much at all, and could hardly make any sound through all the wraps of the gag.
Yet it was great – a real sensation to struggle against the bonds.
I sat there and watched my father work. Minutes are hours and vice versa when you are tied up. All I knew was that I was really really tied up this time. I began to realize that it was one thing to talk in theory about how I wanted to be tied up and it was another thing to have it actually happen. I remembered the old slogan, “be careful what you wish for, you might get it.” Well, I had gotten it and gotten it but good. I could hardly squirm and the whole thing was fantastic but really restrictive.
All I could do was wait for something to happen. I tried making a little noise through the gag, but nothing much came out but grunting. I know Dad heard me but he ignored me.
Finally, after what seemed like forever my step-mother came in with her digital camera. She took three or four pictures. She said she was doing it for my Aunt Helen who had asked her to keep a record of me whenever I was in bondage.
“You are having a good time aren’t you,” she said smiling. “I guess I’m happy we can do what you like for a change – something you and your father can do together. It is odd that a boy would enjoy being tied up like that and I think it’s odd that his father would want to tie him up.”
Then she went away leaving me there bound, gagged in the room with my father.
Again, a long time passed. I wasn’t too uncomfortable, but I was getting a little cramped.
After a while Aunt Helen walked into the room. She and Derek had driven over to visit us for the day.
“You see,” said dad, “I’ve talked to him and this is his fantasy. He’s bound about as tight as I can think to tie him, gagged, and he’s going to be there for quite a while. I haven’t decided how long yet, but a very long time for sure!”
“Whew,” whistled Aunt Helen. “That’s really a job. I doubt anyone could get out of that, even Houdini.”
“That was the idea,” said dad. “He specifically asked for strict inescapable bondage, tight gag, full restriction. And that’s what he’s got.”
“Mmmmmm Mmmmmmm Mmmmmmm,” I groaned into the gag.
“He’s saying, ‘I like this,'” said my aunt. “I’ve learned to understand what he says when he’s gagged.”
“I’ll bet he does,” said dad. “It’s his dream come true. Since he likes this, I intend to do it for him a lot.”
“What’s he wearing?”
“Depends,” said my father.
“A diaper?” said my aunt.
“Yes,” said dad. “So he can stay there for a long time.”
“Nice touch, Ralph.”
“I didn’t think of it myself,” said my dad, “I read about somebody doing it on one of those bondage web pages that Sam likes.”
“How long did you say you will keep him there?”
“Well,” said dad, “That’s what we’ll determine now.”
What do you think?
“Well,” said my aunt, “when did you tie him up?”
“Around nine this morning.”
“Then keep him there until at least nine tomorrow morning.”
“Mmmmm” I grunted trying to say “No.” I thought that would be way too long.
“Yes,” translated my aunt. “He’s happy about that.”
I wasn’t happy – I worried that I couldn’t take such a long time in that chair.
“Mmmmmmm Mmmmmm Mmmmm,” I grunted into the gag trying to say “un-tie me.”
“This is great,” translated my aunt.
MmmmMMMMmmmmMMMMm Mmmmmm Mmmmmmm Mmmmmmm,” I groaned into the gag trying to sound out “PLEASE un-tie me.”
“I really like this,” translated my aunt. She looked up at me and smiled. “The next time I tie you up, it will be a lot stricter,” she added, “and for a lot longer.”
I was going crazy with frustration. What was wrong with them? Couldn’t they tell I wanted out? Twenty-four hours so strictly tied was way too long. Then I hit on an idea. “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmmmmmmmmmmm Mmmmmmmmmmm Mmmmmmmmm Mmm Mmm Mmm.” It was “SOS” in Morse code.
“What’s that?” my aunt asked.
“Morse code,” said my father. “He’s signaling distress.”
“He’s trying to trick us into untieng him,” my aunt laughed. “He’s clever but we have an agreement that we can keep him bound and gagged as long as we want – isn’t that right Sam?”
“Mmmmmmmm” I tried to say “No,” and shake my head but the duct tape held me firmly to the chair.
“See, he agrees,” said my aunt.
Now I was wild – grunting and groaning into the gag with everything I could give it. Ignoring me, my aunt and my father went on talking and laughing about how well I was bound and how I must be enjoying it. Then my aunt left and my father turned and went back to work at his desk. Eighteen more hours trussed up on that chair. It wasn’t my fantasy, it was becoming a nightmare.
My aunt came back what seemed like a long time later.
“How you doing, Beebee?” my aunt asked.
I moaned into the gag, sure I couldn’t last as long as they had planned. I looked at the two of them with the saddest eyes I could summon up.
“You’ve only been there seven hours,” my dad said. You’ve got seventeen hours to go. Is it as much fun as you thought?
“Mmmmmm!!!” I tried to shout “No!”
I was wild, grunting and moaning as much as that gag would allow.
“Do you think he’s in over his head?” said my aunt.
“Maybe,” laughed my dad. “Sam,” he said, “Do you want us to untie you? Grunt once for yes, twice for no.”
“I thought so. Sam, did you give us permission to tie you up whenever we want, however we want, for as long as we want? Right?”
“Do you keep your bargains?”
“Then I guess you just have to stay there.”
That was the last straw. I tried to shout, beg, anything. I was okay then, but not another seventeen hours!!!. I really worried that my father meant it as he usually did what he said he was going to do. I needed to get them to untie me any way I could. At least take the gag off.
“There’s a lesson here, BeeBee,” said my aunt. “Be careful who you let tie you up. Don’t talk yourself into something you can’t talk your way out of.”
“Yes,” said dad. “I know from what I’ve seen that you really enjoy bondage and that you’ll want it a lot – maybe through the rest of your life. It would be easy when you’re in college or away to run into someone who might tie you up and then hurt you – possibly very badly. Never let anyone tie you up who you don’t know very well and trust.”
“That’s for sure,” said my aunt. “And don’t tell someone you want to be bound for hours or days when you really don’t. You might find yourself really in big trouble for a long time and badly hurt.”
“Now,” said dad, “you think that over and after a while we’ll negotiate on the remaining time.”
With that, despite my gagged pleas, they turned to each other and went on with a conversation about family things. I had truly done it to myself – gotten myself tied up more than I could have imagined – something that I could not get myself out of no matter what until they decided to free me. At least it sounded like they might not keep me bound so tightly for the entire time.
Finally they untied my legs, and it was heavenly straightening them out. They freed me from the chair, and removed the tape over the gag and the ace bandage but not the leather gag itself. I stood and on wobbly legs, walked around dad’s office.
“Did you use the diaper?” dad asked.
So he unfastened it and put on a new one. I wondered why I needed another diaper if they were going to free me.
As my aunt untied my arms and let me stretch them and exercise them as they were sore and stiff. Then my father brought up my straitjacket – the one my aunt had gotten for me.
“Put out your arms,” he instructed. I did, and he pulled on the jacket, fastened the buckles and straps, and soon I stood, still gagged, with my arms fastened to my sides in the jacket, the crotch straps pulled down around the diaper. They took me out to the kitchen where they sat me on a chair.
“You must finish the 24 hours,” dad said, “but in a more comfortable way – not quite so strictly bound. In a while Ruth will come with something to eat and drink. I’ll come too, and remove the gag. Remember, say nothing or the gag goes back and stays. Clear?”
Ruth showed up shortly, first took a picture of me in my new bondage, and then dad removed the gag and she gave me something to drink and fed me a sandwich.
Then dad replaced the gag, and they took me to the living room and laid me on the floor with my ankles tied It was heaven to have my legs able to bend and to move and my head not so tightly bound. I could stand that, I thought, for a long time.
My aunt and Derek left to drive home. Dad removed the gag and Ruth gave me more to eat and drink. And they changed the diaper again, fixing me up for the night, dad said.
They put me into my bedroom, had me lay on my back on the bed, and tied my legs to the corners of the bed so that I was spread-eagled from the waist down. Another piece of rope fastened on the head-harness-gag and tied my head to the top of the bed. And I stayed that way all night.
In the morning dad took me to the kitchen and tied me to a chair, removed the gag and Ruth fed me breakfast. Then the gag went back. My mouth was getting really sore from the gag, but I didn’t dare say anything. Dad said there wasn’t much longer until the time was up, so he didn’t change the diaper again. They left me tied to the kitchen chair as my step-mom worked cooking and cleaning. You would have thought she had a young man tied and gagged in her kitchen all the time and that it was a normal thing.
That afternoon, long after the twenty-four hours were up, dad came in and untied me entirely.
We’ve had a couple of long talks about it, and looking back it was a wild crazy experience. With it behind me, I said to dad that I almost wished he had left me in the chair longer – the entire time maybe. Despite my distress, it was great. Looking back, I was sorry he had relented and freed me despite my protests. He said he would think it over. He would oblige me with bondage, but not punishment except maybe for a few minutes to teach me a lesson. He hoped I had learned an important lesson sitting in that chair. I said that I had.
Now I wait for the next time, and dad has promised me that there will be a next time and in the not too distant future.