Article – ‘#chained’ and how it came about (my first time in real bondage) – the conclusion

I have now been tying, chaining and restraining myself in various ways since my early teens…possibly longer.

All of my early encounters with self bondage were facilitated by the use of whatever I could find in my parents’ house…belts, ties, audio visual cables, old bits of rope…basically, anything I could find which could be used as some sort of improvised restraint.  I started to build up a plastic bag of bondage ‘equipment’ which I kept at the back of the cupboard space under my bed.vlcsnap-error107

And, as soon as I was guaranteed an empty house, I would tie myself up.

It didn’t take long before my self bondage became quite thorough. I would tie my ankles and my knees and thighs. I would wriggle my upper body into a green military belt which would pin my arms to my sides. I would gag and blindfold myself and I would cuff my wrists behind my back with an old pair of metal child’s handcuffs which I owned.

Even though I used child’s cuffs, I soon discovered that if I linked the cuffs directly through each other (which made the chain between them redundant) and then put them around my wrists, my arms would be locked together quite effectively in a manner which was difficult to escape from quickly.

I soon discovered that, if I knelt whilst I was putting on my restraints, behind my back I could connect my cuffed wrists to my tied ankles with a very short length of rope. When I then fell onto my side (or even better, my front) my body would attempt to straighten and I would be pulled into a really tight hogtie.vlcsnap-2011-12-03-09h15m39s45

Of course, I didn’t know that it was called a hogtie…but remember, this was before the days when I could access photos on the internet. It seems that the idea of a hogtie is built into those of us who have thoughts of bondage and restraints.

The other commonality with almost all of my early bondage (and also now) was crotch ropes and shorts. For me, it was essential to be wearing a tight pair of silky P.E. or football/rugby shorts when I was tied up…and there would need to be crotch ropes pulled tightly between my buttocks and either side of my crotch.

I’ll come onto my interest in shorts another time…but the shorts were, and still are, an essential item to making my bondage enjoyable. And I really did enjoy all my sessions where I was able to restrain myself in various different and interesting ways. I’ve enjoyed self bondage for all of my adult life…and I’ve enjoyed sharing the outcomes of my self bondage experiences with anyone on the internet interested enough to find and watch my videos.

And so, in my current situation, where I’m already properly chained up hand and foot, ballgagged and hooded, wearing shiny sports gear with slightly too small black Umbro football shorts, at the hands of my captor (someone who I had never met before in my life) with no hope of freeing myself, I’m wondering why I’m not enjoying myself more.

I was seated in a bondage chair. My wrists had been manacled behind me and behind the back rest, my legs had been pulled wide apart and my ankles has been chained to the front legs of the chair…and my upper body had just been pinned to the back rest with a four metre long length of chain.bb10

My captor had decided that he wouldn’t put all the restraints on me at the start of the session. He was going to slowly escalate my chain bondage over the period of my captivity. However, my body had already decided that it wasn’t happy with the un-natural position it was being kept in…and my brain was coming to the same conclusion.

A steel collar was locked around my neck. It was my steel collar. I had bought it only a few weeks before. I’d worn it several times at home. I loved the feel and the weight of the cold steel when locked around my neck…and it was a tight fit…almost flush to the circumference of my neck. I had asked for it to be used as part of my ‘captivity’. Continue reading

Article – ‘#chained’ and how it came about (my first time in real bondage) – Part 2

‘I had never been tied or chained by anyone in my life’.

That’s what I said in the first part of this article. Thinking about it, that’s not, strictly speaking, true.

I used to be a Boy Scout…and everyone knows what happens there. A ‘rite of passage’ at scout camp was being staked out…spreadeagled on the ground like an X with wrists and ankles tied to large wooden tent pegs which had been hammered into the ground. I had been staked out.

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I also used to play tie up games with my best mate through our mid to late teenage years. I used to enjoy being tied up but I also used to enjoy tying him up. See attached photo…identity of my mate obscured for obvious reasons…

But I had never been in a situation where I had put myself in the hands of someone who I had never met in my life and allowed him to cuff me hand and foot and chain me to a wall…and as I lay on my belly in my shiny black football kit, hooded and ballgagged,  with my captor pulling my wrists and ankles up into a hogtie position, I was seriously wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.

But, of course, I hadn’t. There should never have been any doubt in my mind. There was, because this was my first time in this situation, but there shouldn’t have been.

My captor released me. And then he hugged me…gently, but firmly. And I nearly cried. I’m not sure why. It may have been the relief of being released. It may have been that the realisation that my trust had not been betrayed. It may have been because, generally, I’m not a huggy person and I’m not quite sure how to cope. Nevertheless, I nearly cried. But I didn’t.

I’ve made that whole situation sound like a bit of an ordeal. Perhaps it was. However, in terms of bondage and captivity…and discomfort…and ultimately, pain…a far greater ordeal was now to follow.

Continue reading

Article – ‘#chained’ and how it came about (my first time in real bondage)

I’ve never been in real bondage before. For the majority of my life, I’ve practised and enjoyed (and become quite accomplished at) self-bondage. However, I’ve always fantasised after the real thing. Here’s the true story (from my point of view) of how ‘The Prisoner’ finally became the genuine article…

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I lay face down on the cold, hard floor. I felt my right wrist grabbed firmly and a cuff locked in place around it. My other wrist was quickly pulled up behind me and cuffed in place. My wrists were now chained together and nestled in the small of my book.

I was taking a hell of a risk. If my judgment was bad, I was now heading into a tremendously dangerous situation. I had no back-up plan and no-one knew where I was.

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I couldn’t see my captor. A thick neoprene hood had been placed over my head. It had only two small nose holes and a larger mouth hole which was the perfect size for the large red ballgag which was now firmly strapped into my mouth.

My ankles were pulled up towards my wrists and cuffs were placed around them. My wrists and ankles were now cuffed and chained together. I was hogchained. The chain connecting my wrists and ankles was longish…but not so long as I could fully straighten my body out.

The cuffs gripped my wrists and ankles. It wasn’t painful…but I could feel the metal gently cutting into my flesh.

I lay on my front contemplating my situation. I listened for any sound around me…any sign that my captor was still present. Nothing.

Basically, if I had made a bad choice in being here…I was now totally screwed. And yet, I was tremendously aroused. I realised that if I didn’t do something soon, I would cum, there and then, into by shiny black Umbro football shorts.

I rolled over onto my left side. The desire to cum was still there but it eased as my genitals were released from their crushed location between my body and the hard floor.

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I began to explore the chains and cuffs behind my back. As I tugged on them, I quickly realised that I was also attached to a chain which was shackled to the wall. So any thoughts I had of possibly escaping by wriggling across the stone floor were firmly put to rest. I wasn’t going anywhere.

And yet, I had known all along that this exact set of restraints were going to be used on me. I had agreed it all online with my captor.

Continue reading

Interlude No. 3 – ‘Loan Repaid’

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Little did Shane know, his parents had leveraged his freedom to get a bank loan.  Under Black Rule Law a white minor was the PROPERTY of his parents and they had the right to sell him as such.  So, today, on the eve of his 18th birthday, the bank decided to call in the loan.

Shane had given himself  a hard session at the gym. He’d pushed himself till he hurt. He’d then taken his shirt off and stripped down to his running shorts ready for a few laps of the running track.

His shorts were black and tight. They showed off his tight bubble butt and there was a pleasing bulge round the front. He enjoyed wearing them. He enjoyed the admiring glances he’d get from girls (and boys) on the running track. He never wore anything under them. He enjoyed the feeling of the tight silky material clinging to his body. And he enjoyed the sensation of almost nakedness when he ran. It felt dangerous.

Shane stood in front of the mirror in the changing room and admired his tight, smooth, muscled body. He then found his way to the track and started to run.

Later, dripping with sweat, he worked his way back to the changing room. It was empty. What happened next was quick and terrifying.

He’d removed his running shoes and socks and was about to pull his shorts down and strip for a shower when he sensed movement behind him. Before he could react, a plastic bag was forced over his head. There was some sort of cloth in the bag which much have been soaked with chloroform. He’d struggled desperately, hands gripped his body and held him firm.

‘Easy, boy, this won’t take long…’

A voice? He felt his hands being pulled behind his back and then…

Continue reading

Interlude No. 2 – ‘Auction’

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Brandon had been the final ‘slave’ in the college campus charity slave auction. He’d been game for a laugh right from the start. He’d really got into the spirit of things. He’d stripped down to a tight black speedo and had quite enjoyed standing on the stage in front of an admiring room with his wrists chained behind his back and a loose hood placed over his head.
His ‘auction’ lasted a little longer than expected and he ended up being sold for a considerably higher than expected sum of money.
However, he began to suspect things weren’t quite right when, at the end of his auction, he was quickly bundled out the the auction room, through a back door and into the rear of a waiting van. He definitely knew things had gone wrong when he was forced down onto his belly on the cold metal floor in the rear of the van. An extremely large metal collar was locked around his neck and that, in turn, was locked directly to the floor of the van. His hood was briefly removed, a large ballgag was shoved into his mouth and then a much tighter fitting leather hood was forced back over his head.
And now, after an uncomfortable journey which seemed to last several hours, he found himself locked in a bare white room. Incredibly heavy manacles and chains had been locked onto his ankles and wrists…but fortunately, his hood had been removed.
Brandon sat on the floor and contemplated his situation. He briefly considered banging on the door and yelling for help but deep down inside there was still some small part of him that considered this to be some elaborate practical joke…and the chains and shackles on his wrists were very heavy and it required some effort to lift them up. He waited.
Time passed. Brandon had no idea how long. He began to grow cold and the collar on his neck was heavy and dug into his shoulders.
What happened next was brief, unexpected and terrifying.
The door suddenly burst open. Three guys rushed in pushing a cage. The bars of the cage were black and thick. The edges of the cage must have been a metre long at best. It was small.
Two of the guys were white, one was black. They were all heavily muscled and each of them was naked apart from a pair of small skintight black PVC shorts. Each of them wore a tight black rubber hood with eye and mouth holes.
Brandon tried to back away from them along the floor. His heavy metal restraints slowed him right down. The guys rushed towards him, grabbed him and stood him up.
Brandon had a brief glimpse of a very large red ballgag but before he had chance to clamp his mouth shut he was thumped hard in his stomach. The ballgag was forced in his mouth. It was too big. It filled his mouth completely. Instantly, his jaw started to burn with the pain of being forced open too wide. A strap was pulled painfully tight and fastened round the back of his neck. Even without the strap, getting the hard rubber ball back out of his mouth from where it was firmly lodged behind his front teeth would have proved incredibly difficult. The strap made it impossible.
Ear pieces were then pushed firmly into Brandon’s ears and, finally, a skintight black rubber hood was pulled over his head.
Brandon panicked as he breathed in and no air came. Instead, the black rubber formed a tight vacuum against his face. He struggled desperately against the grip of the three guys but relief finally came when he felt a hand pull on the front of his hood and air suddenly began flowing in through two small nose holes which were now placed directly over his nostrils.
However, before he had time to grow accustomed to his new situation, he felt his whole body being lifted from the floor. He knew what was going to happen. He struggled wildly.
He was dropped roughly into the cage. He felt the bars beneath his feet. Hands pushed on his shoulders forcing him down into the tiny metal prison.
He was forced into a seated position which his knees up against his chest. He rested with his back against the bars of the cage.
His arms and wrists were forced between his legs and Brandon felt his shackled wrists being connected to his ankle chains.
His head was then pushed between his knees and Brandon heard a loud clang as the lid of the cage was closed above him. Brandon tried to lift his head up but it banged painfully against the bars above him.
And then the white noise started…incredibly loud and playing directly through the ear pieces into his head.
The bars of the cage dug into his flesh. His jaw was now seriously hurting because of the large rubber intruder in his mouth. Breathing was hard and each time he took in a breath, the rubber hood did its best to prevent some of the vital air reaching his lungs. The white noise was already giving him a headache. And the heavy shackles and chains dug into his wrists, ankles and shoulders and reminded him that, even without the cage, he was a prisoner…a play thing…an object.
Brandon felt movement and realised his cage was being pushed along the floor.
What the fuck was going to happen now?