I agree to play a game involving “a little bit of bondage” at the home of a guy I had met over the Internet, and since my host phrased his invitation by saying, “Let’s tie each other up,” it never even occurred to me to think that I should worry about anything. When I arrived he said that since he has done this before and is more familiar with bondage, I should go first – and I agree, thinking he means I will tie him up. But then he surprises me by suggesting that I get undressed. I respond that I would never let someone tie me up naked and I will let him tie me up only if I can wear clothing. I had mentioned earlier that I was going for a workout after we’ve done, so he suggests that I put on my workout clothes. I respond that I am actually going for a swim, and all I have in my bag is a swimsuit. He says “that will be fine,” and since I don’t want to offer too much resistance I agree to go first – in my swimsuit – and he leads me into a room in which I can change.
I change into a Speedo that, while my favorite workout suit, is made of sheer nylon and almost obscenely tight, which makes me suddenly very self-conscious. I leave my clothes in the other room, and then I follow him into what he calls his “play area.” I’m now feeling slightly funny about allowing some strange man tie me up while I am wearing nothing but a Speedo, but after we have tried several poses and he’s tied me up in several different ways I cease worrying. After a while I suggest that we switch roles, and he says, “Okay, just after one more quick position that I want you to try.”
He tells me to sit down in the middle of the room, which is empty of furniture (although it has some hooks on the walls and on the ceiling). Sitting upright on the floor, he tells me to pull my feet in towards my body, spread my legs and place my arms in between the parted knees. Then he tells me to reach my arms underneath my calves from the inside of my parted legs, and bending forward, to twist my hands around and grab the front of my ankles. At this point he binds my wrists to my ankles.
It isn’t clear how vulnerable I’ve suddenly become since I’m sitting on my butt, hunched over, and the only part of me that is exposed is my back. However, my captor grabs the backsides of my feet and slowly lifts my legs, gently rolling me onto my back. All of a sudden, the extent of my vulnerability becomes extremely apparent. In this position I cannot close my legs, because my shoulders are wedged in between my thighs, and there is only a thin strip of nylon in between my legs and the bulge is now front-row center and prominently situated.
I nervously laugh and say, “Well, you fooled me with this position – now why don’t we switch and let me tie you up?”
But my captor ignores my question, smiles, and with the tips of his fingers, begins to caress and tickle the exposed backsides of my legs. His fingers draw faint, invisible lines, and he obviously enjoys the feel of my smooth skin and the underside of my muscular legs, especially in such a strained position. The back of my legs are relatively hairless and powerfully sculpted, so their white smoothness presents a tempting target for mischief.
In a concerned voice I say “what are you doing?” but he doesn’t answer. I attempt to make light of the situation and try to sound teasing when I say, “Just remember, the tables are going to be turned in just a little bit…”
He continues to caress his way towards that increasingly obvious and dreaded target in the middle of my legs by sliding his fingers back and forth. When I again demand to know what he’s doing, he stops – and with the very tip of one of his fingernails, he suddenly and briefly grazes a zig zag on the bottom side of the bulge, right through the Speedo, right above its seam. His fingernails are long, which heightens their sharpness, and he says “oops, I’m so sorry.” But then he chuckles and says, “I guess you don’t really mind, seeing that you’re wearing the Speedo for protection. That’s why you insisted on wearing it, right?” The touch of his nails through the Speedo reacts like electricity on my balls, and the utter insignificance of my protection makes it clear that I am more vulnerable than I could have ever imagined.
Then he says “I don’t think there will be any switching places, if you know what I mean.”
I start tugging at the bindings, but of course my efforts are futile. Even as I protest, my captor very slowly broadens the assault with his fingernails, alternatively teasing the skin around the edges of the bulge and then tickling me through the Speedo. His fingers graze back and forth, following the crease of my butt and caressing the outline of my dick in the front, and it almost feels as if the Speedo is heightening the sensitivity of my body, pulled taught against the most tactile nerve endings that a human possesses.
Suddenly he stops, and while he moves away to grab something, I focus upon the hooks on the ceiling above. I am immediately overcome by a sickening sense of dread when I see that he has grabbed more rope and, reaching up, begins running two lengths through those hooks, which are placed about four feet apart on the ceiling above. Raising my voice, I begin to demand that he “release me, immediately!” Instead, he grabs one of my ankles and ties one of the ropes that he threaded through a hook around my already well-bound left ankle and wrist, and then he ties the other length of rope around my other limbs…
Part 2 Coming Soon!