January 10 , 2001
To My Diary
My sixth day began with all of us eating breakfast together, un-bound and no gag.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” said Mrs. Peterson. “It must have been an ordeal.”
“I’m surprised,” I said, “But it wasn’t so bad, I lied. I almost enjoyed it – I really lied. I discovered that if you sit perfectly still you don’t realize that you’re tied up. Only when you squirm or try to move or talk are you aware of how you are bound and gagged.”
“That sort of surprises me,” said Mrs. Peterson, “But I’ve heard rumors that some of the men are disobedient on purpose so that they can get into the cage.
If you like it, we’ll do it for you at home. We’ve got a dungeon and our own cage, haven’t we, Rick?”
Mr. Peterson agreed with a big smile. But I decided I wanted nothing to do with the cage treatment again, or being in anyone’s dungeon. I began to wonder how much I wanted to be with the Petersons.
“Now,” said Mrs. Peterson, “all of the women are going shopping on the retreat’s bus. Before we leave, we are to take our slaves to the lodge hall and leave them tethered to the wall. We’ll be back mid-afternoon. Tonight is the contest.”
“What contest?” asked Julie.
“We have a contest each year. Who can bring her slave in the most interesting or unusual bondage. And I confess, I’m at a loss what to do this year.”
“Sam,” Julie asked, “What’s the most unusual way you’ve been tied up?”
I thought for a minute. “Well, I think it was when my aunt and uncle made me a transparent mummy.”
“I don’t understand,” said Mrs. Peterson.
“Well, they bound me in plastic wrap and clear scotch tape – that kind of tape the post office uses for packages. I was nude, and fully visible, but quiet well bound and gagged. It was a blast.”
“Not a bad idea,” said Mrs. Peterson. We could do it to both of you, then tie you back to back and take you as the Siamese-transparent mummies. While we’re shopping in town we can buy the plastic wrap and tape. Sam, can you show us how it was done?”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Was it inescapable? The bondage must be inescapable.”
I tried, but I couldn’t get free.”
“Well, let’s hope so. Now, we need to hurry and get you slaves to the lodge so we can catch the bus.”
Julie and her mother dressed for the trip into town while Mr. Peterson and I cleaned up. Then they told us to go to the bathroom and then dress in our jockstraps and when we were ready, Julie and her mother bound our hands at the wrist in front of us. We got into the car, and drove to the lodge. There the women and their slaves were gathering, some of the slaves were already hanging from hooks in the wall of the main room. Soon Mr. Peterson and I, gagged, wrists bound, legs bound at ankles and knees, hung next to each other along the wall, our hands stretched up over our heads. Before long around twenty-seven men lined the wall, all similarly dressed (if you can call being in just a jockstrap being dressed), bound, gagged. The bus pulled into the drive in front of the lodge, and the women left, leaving us to wait for their return.
I was glad when I saw the bus pull into the drive at about two in the afternoon. Julie came and released me, and I went to the bathroom (as did all the other men so there was a line – unusual for there to be a line in the men’s room), and then we had lunch. The women had eaten while in town shopping.
After lunch I put on my gag, thong, and slave chains, and worked around the pool fetching drinks, giving massages and rubbing on sun tan lotion. I served Julie at dinner, then ate.
After dinner, Mrs. Peterson took us into a side room, and said we needed to prepare for the contest. We would have to do it at the lodge because once bound as mummies, it would be difficult or impossible to transport Rick and me. She took off my gag and had me show her how to make Mr. Peterson into a transparent mummy.
We started with him naked, put on one strip of plastic wrap draping it down from his stomach, through his crotch, up the back as a wedgie, and then wrapped one strip of plastic tape around his body to hold it in place. We taped his hands to his side with wraps of tape over his fingers binding them to his legs at the side, then around his whole body just above his wrists, then near his elbows. We taped his legs together at the ankles, above and below his knees. We put his ball gag in his mouth, and put tape over his mouth. Next we wrapped him completely in the plastic wrap that Mrs. Peterson and Julie had bought. Over that, we put more wraps of plastic tape to secure the plastic wrap in place and further bind Mr. Peterson. A plastic bag over his head with a small hole for his nose, and more wraps of plastic tape around his forehead, under his chin and up over his head, and around his mouth finished the job. He was snug in the plastic, fully transparent, but securely bound and gagged.
Mrs. Peterson and Julie next turned to me, and I stripped out of my thong getting ready.
“Can’t we take that off of him?” Julie asked. She was pointing to the chastity device.
“I don’t think we should,” Mrs. Peterson said. “I promised his parents and his aunt that it would stay on unless there was an emergency.”
“This is an emergency,” said Julie. “The mummies must look alike, and Sam looks different with that thing locked on him.”
“You mean you have a key for the lock?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Peterson. “Like I said, it’s in case of an emergency. But I suppose just for this, we can take if off of you.”
Mrs. Peterson produced a key, took off the lock, and I slowly removed the chastity device and gave it to Mrs. Peterson who put it away.
Then Julie and her mother bound me in clear plastic just like we had done to Mr. Peterson. The two of us stood next to each other, tightly bound, able to see a distorted image through the plastic, almost unable to move and not able to talk other than to grunt and moan. Then with more plastic they wrapped us so that we were bound together.
“They’re really great,” said Julie looking at us. “We’re sure to win.”
“We’ll see,” said Mrs. Peterson. “Now to get them to the judging area.”
Mrs. Peterson went out and came back with two slaves, dressed in their jocks and slave chains. She had them pick up me and Mr. Peterson and carry us out to the main room.
Other women were finishing up on their slaves, and around the room I saw a collection of men bound up in different ways. Some sat in unusual positions in chairs. One hung in a knit bag, hog-tied in it as it swung from a hook. One slave was dressed as a baby, bound and gagged with a pacifier. One man was in what looked like an ancient Roman slave outfit, and another was dressed like a muscle man at a competition – both were tied to posts.
After about an hour, the judges came around, and finally they delivered their decision. A man in a skin-tight latex body suit won. The suit was so specific to his body that you could see every part of him clearly – his penis and testicles stuck out away from his body. But his hands were welded to his sides, his legs were welded together, and the head part of the suit had only small holes for his nose. He must have been gagged under the latex. There was no apparent seam which would allow him into and out of the suit. Mr. Peterson and I took second place.
The women walked around looking at the bound slaves, chatting, and discussing techniques. I heard some women saying things like, “I’m going to do that to Harry when we get home,” and so on.
When it was over, Mrs. Peterson came to us with a knife and slowly cut the plastic around our legs, leaving our upper bodies still bound. We walked out to the car and got in, and she drove us to our cabin. Inside, we sat and watched television for a while. Julie said she was tired, and she led me into the bedroom where she cut away all of the plastic, and we slowly took off the tape that was next to my skin. When I was un-done, she had me go to the bathroom, and then she had me lay down on the bed on my back. With rope, she tied my arms and legs so that I was spread-eagled on the bed. Into my mouth went my ball-gag. Then she put a blindfold on me. I wondered what she was doing. I heard her moving around the room, and after a short time, she crawled into the bed next to me.
Slowly Julie began to caress and feel my body. I squirmed, but she had pulled me tight, so I had only limited movement. She kissed me, nibbled my nipples, then moved her mouth down my stomach. I immediately got an erection, and realized that they had not put back the chastity device.
Julie’s hand began to fondle my balls, then my erect penis. It was heavenly.
She kept this up for quite a while, playing with me, rubbing me, while I lay there and moaned with pleasure. Then I felt something strange – she was putting something on my erection – I figured it was a condom. When it was in place, she slowly moved on top of me, lowered herself down onto me taking me inside her. I couldn’t believe it. We began to move together, slowly, deliberately, with her kissing my face around the gag. Finally first me, then she, shuddered as we climaxed. It was the most wonderful thing I had ever felt, and I continued to move inside her even as I finally felt my erection begin to subside. After a while Julie moved off of me, and lay beside me.
Eventually she removed the condom, and then came back to bed where she fell asleep next to me, holding me, kissing me and cooing happily. I wondered if Mrs. Peterson remembered that she had left me free of the chastity device.
Maybe there would be trouble the next day. Anyway, for once I had liked being tied up again. Julie can do that to me any time I thought to myself!
January 10 , 2001
To My Diary
The seventh day at the retreat began as usual with all of us eating breakfast, talking about this and that. Mr. Peterson and I were both in our jocks.
Sitting there I realized that for almost a week I had not worn clothes – only my jock, a thong, or a speedo. And I had been tied up one way or another a great deal of the time. Some of the time it was really great, but I thought there was way too much bondage for me, and I would be happy when the retreat was over.
Mrs. Peterson said that the morning would be a regular day with Mr. Peterson and me working at the swimming pool. But after lunch there would be a general membership meeting. The slaves would be bound to chairs in the back where they would watch as slaves were not allowed to participate. And that’s what happened.
At the meeting the women conducted rather boring business, discussing dues, the next meeting, the newsletter, and so on. Then came a ritual where they inducted new members. Of course, according to the rules, each man was supposed to be committed to being a slave already. The ritual was more or less to publicly reaffirm the slavery vow. Two slaves and their mistresses were taken to the front. The slaves were unbound, gags removed, and naked, each in turn knelt and took a pledge. With their hands on the feet of their mistresses, they repeated, “I – then their name – renounce freedom and proclaim to all that I am now and forever the bondage slave of -her name. She owns my body, and I will obey any command. She may use me, bind me, direct me, restrain me, and order me in any way and I will not refuse. I ask for reflection time to consider my vow. I will reaffirm it and sign the contract and documents when the reflection is over.”
At that point, four slaves brought out four large crosses in the shape of big “X” designs. Mrs. Peterson whispered to me that they were called St. Johns’ Crosses. The two slaves were gagged, and then as they stood next to two of the crosses, many straps attached them to the cross – straps on their arms. legs, and around their bodies. They were really firmly fixed to the crosses and going nowhere.
“You will reflect for eight hours,” announced the club president. Boy!, I thought. those guys are crazy. No way would I want to be tied that way for two hours, let alone eight.
“Now,” continued the club president turning to all of us, “members have challenged two slaves to reaffirm their vows and publicly resign their contracts. Will Slave Peter J. come forward.”
A slave I had seen was unbound from his chair, and he and his mistress moved forward. The President said that some member had challenged this slave’s resolve, and so club rules required that the slave reaffirm his vows and resign his contracts with witnesses. That slave was put through the vows and attached to the third cross. Another fool, I thought. I hope he can last.
“Now,” said the President, “Will slave Sam come forward.”
I was really surprised no – shocked! And as Julie freed me from the chair and we moved forward, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Sam – I didn’t know this would happen. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. We’ll just have to leave the retreat.”
I couldn’t let that happen to Julie or her parents, so I took the vow, saying the words loudly so all could hear, kneeling with my hands on Julie’s feet.
Then they gagged me and bound me to the fourth cross. I was in as much misery as I had anticipated.
“You will reflect for eight hours,” announced the club president. “The meeting is adjourned.”
Julie and her mother sat and looked at me leaving Mr. Peterson the only slave still tied to his chair in the back. Finally they left, going out by the pool.
After dinner, all of the women and slaves returned to the meeting room. At nine thirty the eight hours were over. The two new slaves were freed, ungagged, and again knelt and repeated the vows. Then they signed forms which were slave agreements.
Next came slave Peter J. who repeated the vows and signed the forms. Finally they released me – a bit stiff and sore from the eight hours. I knelt before Julie, repeated the vows, signed all the papers. As the four of us stood before the group, they applauded. Then the four of us were gagged and had our hands bound. Our mistresses led us away. The Petersons and I left for our cabin.
“I’m surprised you signed the paper,” said Mrs. Peterson. “You realize it’s a legal contract and binding.”
“Mmmmmmm” I said nodding my head in the affirmative. I realized what I had done. I was now legally Julie’s slave – and she had my signature to prove it.
I wanted to smile, now that I was officially Julie’s slave, but the gag prevented them seeing that and prevented me from saying how awful it had been and how I didn’t want to do anything like that ever again.
Julie put me into my straitjacket, bound my legs, and Mrs. Peterson did the same with Mr. Peterson. We spent the rest of the evening watching television in the cabin. That night I slept in the jacket, hog-tied, gagged, and at least relatively comfortable. But no sex, and nobody had realized that I no longer had on the chastity device. Nevertheless, I was more than ready to go home.
January 10 , 2001
To My Diary
Day eight was New Year’s Eve Day. We were up early, and had breakfast, untied as usual and today naked. Julie watched me and her father fix their meals and wait on them at the table.
“Both of you need to get into your jocks, gags, and slave chains and walk down to the lodge. You’ll be put to work decorating for the dance tonight,” said Mrs. Peterson. “And when you come back this afternoon, be sure you bring a bag with your formal clothes. The dance is a formal event.”
I wondered what our formal clothes would be, but after Rick and I got to the lodge, we were kept too busy to think about it. We set tables, put up decorations, cleaned, washed the formal china and put them out, set up a buffet line, and so on. We took a break for lunch, replaced our gags, and were back to work.
About four in the afternoon it was done, and as we and the other slaves were leaving to walk back to our cabins, one of the workers handed each of us a paper bag. “This is your formal wear for tonight,” she said.
Mr. Peterson and I returned to our cabin where Julie took me into our bedroom and told me how she had spent the day – going shopping with her mother, then swimming by the pool. I sat and listened, unable to do much else with the gag still in my mouth.
Then we went into the living room, Mr. Peterson was naked, hog-tied and gagged laying on his side on the floor in front of the big easy chair. Mrs. Peterson was using him as a foot-stool as usual. Julie took off my jock and slave chains, then bound my wrists and hung me on a hook by the side of the room.
Mrs. Peterson said that we weren’t due to the dinner until around eight that evening. So while they lounged, read their books, or watched television, Mr.
Peterson lay on the floor and I hung by my wrists watching, actually hoping for it all to end.
At about seven-forty-five, Julie released me and took me into our bedroom.
There she untied my wrists, removed the gag, and had me clean up, shower, use the bathroom, and get ready. I shaved, washed, brushed my teeth, and then, naked, presented myself to her in the bedroom. She opened the bag and pulled out a small black silk-like thing and told me to put it on.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s a genital-glove,” she smiled. “It fits on you like a glove, so that’s what it’s called.
She was right. A tube fit over my penis, a little bag below it held my testicles. A band went around my waist holding it in place, a small strap went from the bottom of the bag up between my cheeks and attached to the strap in back, like a tiny thong. It was somewhat tight, and I had to wiggle myself around to get into the tube part.
Next came what Julie called a short straitjacket. It was black, nylon, and my arms fit into it. Like a usual straitjacket, it had straps and buckles and shortly my arms were wrapped around my body. But the jacket was short, it came down over my body only to just below my crossed arms. But long straps hung down in front. Julie took one of these and pulled it down between my legs on one side of my “genital-glove,” and up the back where she attached it to the back side of the short straitjacket. The other strap went on the other side.
Next came a little bow-tie that went around my neck, and from it in the front was a long lead, like a leash. Finally Julie put on my black leather gag and strapped it in place. Cuffs went on my ankles with a chain about two feet long linking them. I was ready for the New Year’s Dinner-Dance.
Julie slowly dressed in her formal – a beautiful skin-tight black body-suit that showed off all of her wonderful curves. Her hair was combed and silky with two black bows. I loved sitting there watching her get ready and just seeing her, my prick swelled filling and stretching the genital glove making me look obscene.
Finished, Julie led me out into the living room, using the leash to pull me along. There stood Mr. Peterson, bound exactly like I was in the short nylon straitjacket, bow tie, genital-glove and gag. Mrs. Peterson was wearing a stunning cat suit in black with the ends of her breasts exposed. Watching them I began to get hard again and once more my erect penis filled the tube and stood out from my body. Julie noticed and pointed it out to her mother.
“Good,” said Mrs. Peterson. “He’ll do well in the contest.”
I wondered what that was all about, but we were off to the lodge with Mrs.
Peterson driving. All of the slaves and mistresses were gathering. The men were all dressed the same as Mr. Peterson and me. The women displayed a wide variety of black formal erotic wear.
The men stood and watched while the women chatted, led them around from group to group. At around ten there was dinner. Some of the slaves were released to work the buffet line, and all gags were removed. As soon as the meal was over, dishes cleaned away, gags replaced, the club President stood and announced, “The erection contest will begin. Will the first five contestants come forward.”
Five women led their slaves to the front of the room. They stood with the slaves facing the group. “Begin,” said the President. Each woman approached her slave and they began playing with him – stroking his penis and testicles, rubbing him in erotic ways. Some more quickly than others, the men became erect. Only one man failed to get notably hard.
“Time,” said the President. The women stopped, and the men just stood there.
Two of the erections fell quickly. That left three. After about five minutes another dropped leaving two. They stayed hard for quite a while, then one faltered leaving one who was declared the winner.
“Time of fourteen minutes,” said the club President. The women politely applauded.
The process was repeated with another group of five. “We’re next,” said Julie.
I shook my head, – No, it would be too embarrassing. “You don’t have any choice,” she said. “You’re a slave, you’re tied up, and I’ll yank you up there whether you like it or not. Or do you want me to report you as disobedient?”
I didn’t want the disobedient treatment again, so when our turn came, up we went. I stood next to Mr. Peterson, and on the signal, Julie went to work running her sharp fingernails up and down my penis. It didn’t take much to get me hard, and I wanted to die but had no choice but to stand there with everyone watching. All five of us got erect in the time allowed. My erection was the second to fall, but Mr. Peterson held on for over twenty minutes and won – greeted by much applause.
The last two groups went through the contest. In the end, Mr. Peterson won having held his erection for the longest time. Mrs. Peterson was given a trophy – a very phallic looking golden statue while Mr. Peterson’s penis was covered with a gold-colored silktube that slid on over the black genital-glove. He seemed to wear it proudly.
The rest of the night we danced, the slaves remained bound the whole time. At midnight we celebrated, and around two we went back to our cabin, tired, but happy. Julie undressed while I watched, then she released me from everything, let me use the bathroom, then she tied my hands and no gag and we spent the night in bed together making love twice. I was in heaven, only lightly tied and sleeping with Julie. If only things stayed like this, I would love it.