I began to violently thrash about in an attempt to free myself, but it is such an obvious waste of time that I start to yell, “Would you PLEASE let me go IMMEDIATELY?” No sooner are the words uttered than the captor shoves a piece of cloth into my mouth and then quickly grabs another cloth, which he wraps around my face and head, securing the cloth ball in my mouth and effectively muffling my yells. Of course HE can hear me, but it is extremely doubtful that anyone else can, (not that it keeps me from trying to cry for help). But now that I am muffled and effectively incapable of resisting my captor in any way, he stands up and begins to pull on the opposite ends of the ropes that are looped through the hooks.
He pulls the ropes taught, and then with more effort he continues pulling on the ropes, which start to lift my bound limbs upwards. He strains to pull harder, and suddenly the ropes lift me off the ground just enough so that I begin to rock back and forth. Of course I am still struggling, which merely means that I keep rocking back and forth. He keeps pulling on the ends of the rope, and as I am lifted higher and closer to the hooks up above, the ropes slowly spread my legs further apart as well. When I am three or four feet off the ground my captor pulls the loose ends wrap each rope securely around a pole on the side of the room, stabilizing me in mid-air.
While my captor catches his breath I try to keep my senses about me, but it is of no use. I am bound and helpless, and I have been bound and disabled in a particularly diabolical manner. I am now hanging upside down from the ceiling, with ropes tied to my ankles that are keeping my legs spread apart. All I am wearing is a tight little Speedo, which I suddenly realize is almost worse than wearing nothing. The nylon is practically translucent and it seems to draw attention to the bulge that is barely contained underneath the tight sheerness of the Speedo. All I can do is emit muffled cries and wiggle helplessly, suspended in the air.
My captor walks back around in front of me, and once again he proceeds to assault my underside with his fingernails. “My, how wonderful it is to see a handsome man helpless and defenseless like this. I think I’m glad you insisted upon wearing this little Speedo – it gives me something to focus upon, if you get my drift.” It’s obvious he is enjoying the look of terror in my eyes and my smothered protestations. He laughs and says “I’m not sure it was such a good idea for you to come over to a complete stranger’s house and let him tie you up, was it? Just think about it, you voluntarily let me tie you up, you voluntarily let me tie you up while wearing nothing but this Speedo, and what’s most amusing of all, you willingly let me tie you up in this absolutely delicious position. What COULD you have been thinking, letting someone who you don’t even know tie you up like this?”
Everything he said was true. And the real perversity of the position was that it insured my bulge remained in the limelight, inescapably and continually in the line of fire.
When my captor reached into a closet, grabbed a bag and pulled out a flogging whip I began to frantically scream through the gag and thrash around wildly. But my cries for help were smothered, and I could do nothing more than tug my entwined limbs, which merely caused my torso to rock back and forth, which in turn kept swinging the vulnerable bulge into the spotlight.
The captor now takes his index finger and begins to draw concentric circles, each next one larger than the last, right on the underside of my balls – in the most sensitive area that he could possibly find – in the obvious form of a target. He didn’t even need to tell me what was being implied.
Finally, he stood back and took a swing at that imagined target with his whip, which stung me through the strip of nylon between the legs. Then my captor continued to tickle me and started to describe, in graphic detail, all of the painful, sadistic things he was capable of doing to me. He talked about the whip – about using it and aiming for the imaginary target he had just drawn, but how he’d “probably miss a lot and cover those beautifully smooth, muscular white legs with welts.” He talked about how his father used to whip him with a belt, and how he would love to use a belt on a helpless, handsome, athletic man in a Speedo.
Then he suddenly smiled a malicious grin and said, “My goodness, a Speedo doesn’t look quite right when it’s dry – it needs to be wet to look just right. I’ve got water right over there, in that kettle. I was heating it to make some tea! But maybe it hasn’t gotten too hot yet.” As I shook my head and pleadingly uttered muffled “no, no…” He went over and picked up a kettle, and walked back over, leaned the kettle forward and slowly dribbled some stinging hot water onto that bulge, through the Speedo, just above that seam. Although the water wasn’t scalding it was still stinging-hot and stung my balls, dampening the Speedo. I writhed violently, more out of fear than actual pain, although the Speedo was actually steaming after the water was poured.
He set the kettle down and resumed his dialog, talking about how seeing me tied up reminded him of going to a rodeo and that he thought that he should “brand me” like a bull. Then he feigned disappointment and said that he couldn’t brand me because he didn’t own a branding iron, but my sense of vulnerability was utterly complete. The wet Speedo was now clinging to my balls, which were even more sensitive after being stung by the hot water.
Suddenly both sets of his fingernails were tickling me wildly, all around my balls as if they were galloping, scrambling around the front of the Speedo and between my legs and tickling my dick and my crack, but always back to the focal point, the sensitive underside of that bulge. And in spite of my terror and fear, my sense helplessness was also very arousing, and my extreme vulnerability and powerlessness were probably as sexually electrifying to me as to my captor. The slicing of his fingernails was sending shock waves to my brain, and I suddenly felt an explosion of semen shoot from me and seep through the front of the Speedo. He laughed and said, “I guess you’re enjoying this more than you might have imagined? Maybe I should invite over a few of my more disciplinary friends…”
And the evening seemed destined to continue.