Several months ago, I sent a story to the Plaza which was soon posted. It was about a straight man - myself - who went to a gay man to get tied up. There were numerous responses to my story, some of which led to very pleasant correspondence. Now, to the core of this: I learned from this that there are a lot of straight men out there who are eager to be with other men for the purpose of enjoying bondage. And only that purpose. Most of these men desire to be tied up by other men who might be gay or even straight but like to tie up guys. Then there are those very guys who are straight but like to tie up other men. This was a revelation to me. I thought that I was quite alone in being straight but willing to submit to a man in order to get myself tied up. So, guys, if you like to be tied up, don't give up just because you have no female partner; explore the possibility of having a man tie you up. Yes, there is the danger that he might use you sexually. I was. And do not regret it, because it made my brief period of captivity all the more authentic. But be careful and investigate first. Now for the story, which will contain more than a little reality; but you can figure out for yourself just how much.

Best Friends?

"I need some more cubes for this. You want any, Strand?" Jake got up from the other end of the sofa to amble into my kitchen. We were watching a game on a Saturday afternoon, and drinking Scotch on the rocks, even though neither of us really drinks a lot or often.

"Sure, bring me some too."

Jake and I had been buds for a few years. Both not very successfully heterosexual. I didn't know much about his sex life, but did know it must not be much better than my own. Sure, I had dates, even a once-in-a-while relationship; but nothing lasting . . . maybe because of what I expected but also expected would be rejected. The last few months, my sex life had been mainly looking up pictures of bound women on the 'net, and experimenting in self-bondage. None of which I had ever told Jake about, though I had considered it off and on when a bit under the influence.

"What the hell is this, Strand?" Jake was holding a pint fiber juice container. And I immediately knew what he had found . . . the ice-locked key to my handcuffs. Reading this, you immediately know why the key is in the ice; but just in case you are new to this, it was the timed handcuff release device - put on the cuffs and I couldn't get free until the ice melted.

"Oh, shit," I said before thinking. What innocent explanation could I offer? Then, a bit under the influence of the liquor, I made the abrupt decision to tell the truth . . . or nearly so. "To tell the truth, Jake, I read some stuff on the 'net about something called self-bondage, had nothing else to do, and thought I might experiment a little.

"Yeah, I've heard about that. Something guys, and sometimes broads, do to themselves when they don't have a pal to tie them up, like when a kid and playing cowboys and Indians. Right?"

"Right, except when I was a kid, it was spies. And usually it was the older girl next door who tied me up."

"Lucky you. But, back to the present. I'm not sure it was a good idea for you to tell me about it. Now I can tell the other guys. They will get a good laugh."

"Hey, come on, Jake; I thought I could trust you." I hesitated, noticing the smirk on my friend's face. "Alright, what do you want for your silence?"

"Thought you would have guessed by now, Strand. Let me tie you up, it'll be our secret. I used to like tying guys up, especially bigger guys like you, who could beat the shit out of me if they wanted."

"You serious; you want to tie me up? Now? And do what then?"

"Yeah, I'm serious. And, yeah, now. And do whatever I feel like once I have you tied up good and tight. But, don't worry; I might want to tie you up again sometime, so I won't do too much damage. Haw!"

"Well, might as well try it. Might be an interesting experiment."

"Yeah, an experiment. So, get out your stuff and get rid of some clothes."

By a half hour later, Jake had cajoled me into stripping to just Jockeys, had put the cuffs on behind my back, returned the ice-locked key to the freezer, had put me on my knees and tied my ankles to my thighs so I could not rise, had very tightly cleave-gagged me, and blindfolded me. Honestly, I was both thrilled by really being tied up by another person with no promised session length; and was deeply humiliated by having another man do it to me. But that was only the beginning.

In another half hour - or so I only could estimate - Jake had cut off my Jockeys and tied a noose around my balls - or so it felt, and tied the other end of the noose rope to a weight between my legs so that it was even less possible to rise. And was laughingly masturbating me. But this was still the beginning.

Sometime after Jake made me explode, he laughed and reminded me of another time under the influence almost a year before. "Remember a year ago when we were cruising and had some drinks at that bar in D.C.? We were both pretty horny. And you said you wished I was a woman. And I asked you if you would give me a blow-job if I wore a condom? And you respectfully declined? Remember?"

Yes, I remembered. I'd been tempted, but suspected that I'd forever then be called the 'cocksucker' by him in front of our friends. Not that Jake and I shared much of our one-on-one chats with friends. Of course, what tempted me was that he would then be obligated to return the favor. But I also suspected he might not, once his own needs were satisfied.

"Remember?" Jake demanded my response. And, fearful somewhat of what he could do to me while I was tied up, gagged, nude, totally helpless; and not wanting to piss him off under the circumstances, I nodded my head that I remembered.

I knew then that Jake finally could force me to do what he had asked for a year before. That realization made me terribly aware of just how I had no control over what might happen between us there in my own home. And that very awareness of the reality of my bondage gave me a sensation I had long and unsuccessfully sought while experimenting with self-bondage and visiting web sites. I was in the midst of an adventure controlled by another. I could be raped just like one of those damsels - well, not 'just' like - I had viewed in one or two videos. I was still blindfolded, and wondered what expression was on the face of my captor friend. I was still gagged and knew that I could say nothing to talk him out of anything he might decide to do to me.

Three or so hours later - not sure, because I was still blindfolded - Jake had forced me to perform what he had once asked for. Twice!

By then, he had carefully and without allowing a second of freedom, retied me face down and spreadeagled on my bed. Once again, I was very tightly gagged. For what he did next to me, he did not have to use my mouth, so "why leave it free to bitch?" So, he did what he did to me from above. Again, twice.

"So, how do you like the pictures of yourself, Strand?" It was a week later, and Jake had made prints from the digital card in his camera. Of course, blindfolded, I had not known he was taking pictures of me in my adventure. "While you were tied down, I found your old girlfriend, Carla's, address in your desk. Suppose she would like a print? Or your boss? Or your neighbors? Tell you what, instead, why don't I come over tomorrow night and we play again. This time, I'll give you a couple hours alone to try to escape. If you do, you get to delete from my camera and tear up the pictures. If you don't, you will let me tie you up again whenever I like for a year.

I couldn't escape. The year was over last week. Already I miss the awfully tight rope around my wrists, the steel sometimes on them, the various gags Jake learned to use on me, the darkness behind the thick blindfolds, the sensations of absolute captivity, including the freedom of not having to decide anything at all. So, now what do I do?

Comments are invited to Strndnklr@aol.com. Interest may bring another story or two.

05.02.09