The following story is an exaggerated version of several truths. I hope that it will entertain, plus prhaps enlighten 'straight' guys like me who may be desperately seeking a partner to do what was done to me.

RESPONSE

I have submitted bondage stories to several sites. Some were fiction; some true, dealing with my lifelong frustrations in finding dedicated bondage partners, which would be either a woman who enjoyed being tied up or a woman or man dedicated to tying me up. I had managed to have some short term affairs with women, including a couple of visits to prostitutes, which were a bit expensive. I had also, in desperation, been to a male "massage therapist" who tied me up naked in a chair while I instructed him, following which he applied some mild teasing and then masturbated me. Because I had to instruct him, it was just a little better than self-bondage.

Following the posted account of my visit to the male therapist, I hoped for some response to my story, but none came . . .for several months. But then, quite unexpectedly, I received the following email:

"Hello Strand, I enjoyed your story about being tied up by the male massage therapist. I must say thatI empathized with him instead of you, because I love to tie guys up. Hope you write more. Rick"

My response to his response: "Thanks for the note, Rick. I enjoyed the writing and posting, but even more the realization that someone out there - you - got something from it. The experience and the writing of it were a little weird for me as I am basically straight but did it just to be able to get tied up like when I was a kid playing cowboys and Indians and such. Thanks again, and write anytime, Strand"

And so my correspondence with Rick began. From Rick back to me: "So, you are straight, hmm. I confess that I am gay. And like to tie up guys; preferably big, strong, powerful guys instead of younger, slender, meek guys that most of us seem to prefer. Like with you, this began in childhood games. Rick"

Back to Rick: "Guess I am your kind of guy: 6', 190lb, 41yrs, fairly heavily muscled, financially secure, control over my subordinates (but not my desire to be subordinated in my 'other' life) Strand"

Again from Rick, though I expected our correspondence to be ended by him at any time: "I am one of those slender, younger guys that I do not prefer: a bit Tom Cruise-like at 5'8", 150lb, 32yrs. So, Strand, you have age, height and weight on me. But, apparently, I have the experience. A good match, if I do say so. Where do you live? Too far away probably. Tricky Rick"

"'Tricky' huh? Interesting. Maryland suburbs of D.C. You? Thinking what I'm thinking? Strand"

"Gettysburg, PA area. Not far at all. If you dare try for what you have been. And, yes, very tricky, but pretty harmless. Strand, I think we should either end this or you should put yourself at risk with . . .Tricky Rick."

"So, Rick, forcing me to make a choice, huh? Pretty harmless, huh? You seem to be taking control now. Some change from you first 'fan' letter to me. Assuming I am willing to put myself at 'risk' with you, what is the next step?"

So now the real dueling and collaboration began. He wrote: "You visit me at my small farm outside of Gettysburg for a chat, and maybe . . . . Or, if you really feel too much at risk, we can meet in a more public place for mutual evaluation. Tell me which and when. Rick."

I felt safe in that I could meet him alone and then decide. After all, I had the size advantage on him. . .at least until I allowed myself to be tied up. Even then, my experience was that I would be able to escape; I've always been good at that . . .too darn good. So, I wrote: "Your farm." I suggested a Saturday mid-morning; just so I could make the hour-long drive easily. Also: : "Now we might see just how 'tricky' you are. One thing I have to mention: you are gay and I am sort of straight. I know I might be put at 'risk.' But are you willing to use . . .protection . . .if things go that way? Not suggesting that they should, of course. Strand" I felt quite foolish for making such a hint. Would this encourage Rick to 'go that way'? Or would he be somehow insulted and end this interesting exchange?

Back from Rick: "My farm and your time good for me. And, yes, the few times I get to be actively sexual, I ALWAYS use protection for both. Not that things necessarily will, but, who knows? We may just chat and split. Or . . . . .?" And he added directions from Route 15 to his farm where he lived while he taught at Gettysburg College.

I had been seeking a skilled and enthusiastic person to tie me up inescapably for a very long time. While I expected that this might be the very opportunity I had sought, I was, nevertheless, very nervous and apprehensive as I followed the directions to Rick's farm. He had given me his phone number in case I got lost, and once or twice I considered calling and opting out of our rendezvous. But I drove on, and turned into the fairly long drive which led to a converted to modern but traditional appearing farmhouse, a bank barn and a few other outbuildings. It being July, the day was becoming very warm, so I was wearing the denim cutoffs, tee and New Balance running shoes, without socks, that Rick had suggested; in a tone that made it more like a demand. The costume was ok for getting out and pumping gas, but also made me feel a little vulnerable as I stopped my car and got out; maybe because I was not wearing underwear, again per his 'suggestion/demand'.

Rick came to meet me, dressed much as I was, but with long jeans instead of shorts, plus socks. I was immediately disarmed by his pleasant greeting and his stature, which was much slighter than mine. I knew that I could still leave if I chose. But, instead, Rick said, "Want to look around my farm, Strand, before we go in and have our chat?" So we did. He showed me the barn, which was straw filled above the empty stables, then the other building, after which he took me on a ride in his Gator to look over the fields and apple orchard, which was managed by a local farmer instead of himself.

Then Rick ushered me into his home through the kitchen. "Please take off your shoes, Strand, and leave them here, by the door. Helps keep the house clean." I did, becoming barefoot, while he still had on socks, making me feel less clothed and more vulnerable.

"Nice farm and home, Rick." Our chat began thus innocently enough. After a while, it led to the games we had played in our childhood; his much later than mine. And I told him how I usually was tricked into winning and tying up my playmates, as I wanted to be tied up myself, which happened just often enough to keep my interest. And he told me quite the opposite: how he was sometimes almost bullied into being tied up by the bigger boys; even stripped and playfully 'tortured' once. Which he did not forget until one summer when only one boy was home to play with, and who let Rick tie him up. Rick had become fascinated by how the other boy grew an erection more and more as Rick tied him more and more.

"That was the beginning," Rick said. "I had a pretty good stretch there when I got to tie up a lot of guys, until a couple of years ago when I moved here from the city. Then I seemed to sorta lose contact. And, yes, there was a lot of sex with my prisoners."

"Frustrating, isn't it; to learn to like something like that and then not have it, and have to be careful about bringing it up with anyone you know? Frankly, I know some women who might like to play, but I don't dare risk it and mention it. Afraid they might think I was some kind of pervert for WANTING to be tied up by them. Guess I am, actually."

"No, not really. Lots of people like it; just hard to make contact."

Then we began to get to the subject; Rick asked if I was willing to have him tie me up. He said that he would really like to, but it was up to me. I had reason to hesitate, being alone on the farm with him and not having had the presence of mind to leave a clue at home as to where I had gone. But, after the barren years, I really wanted it, despite the obvious risks. So, not wishing to upset my host by hesitating too long, I said, "Sure, if you really want to."

"Good," he said."Let's go down into my rec room. You have any preference, or shall I just do something I have in mind for you?"

I had already had enough of tentative partners over the years; women and men who did not know what to do without prompting. So, I said as much, adding , "So, if you don't mind, I'd like you to take charge and do what you want as long as I get to leave undamaged." I guess I sort of chuckled to lighten my remarks.

Rick laughed too; I guess to also lighten the mood and give me confidence; adding, "Oh, you'll be alright in the end. Might seem a little frightening at first as you lose control." Then we were in his basement rec room, which appeared quite normal in that there were no obvious bondage fixtures. I liked that. More recreationally amateurish. "I use this room sometimes for parties, so can't have a rack and so forth. But we'll make do ok. Over here," as he beckoned me to around supporting post or pillar, maybe about six inches in diameter. "Oh, yeah; almost forgot; I have to strip you first. Ok?"

Even though I had been naked before with a man while tied up, I still felt intimidated at the thought of being alone and nude in front of Rick. It was not at all like in a gym shower room or another 'natural' situation. But I had asked Rick to take charge of the scene and didn't want to risk losing it, so I said, "Go ahead; do what you have to."

Stripping me didn't take him long because I was really wearing very little after having already removed my shoes. "Damn, Strand, you are some stud. This is gonna be fun. Back against the post now."

I knew I was well muscled and had a large set of genitals which I noticed him glance at and grin. Then, my back against the post, Rick drew my arms back around it, crossing my wrists, even though it was a stretch around the post. This is it, I thought as I began to feel Rick wind the slender rope tightly around my wrists; first, horizontal, then vertical, finally the cinch and knot. I knew right away that this guy had me; he was no stranger to tying guys up; had the skill and the enthusiasm. "Now, Big Guy," he said; "I guess I've got you now, for all your advantage in height, weight, muscles. Your ass is mine. Having fun yet?"

This was new territory for me; being lashed up nude by an almost stranger who really was into what I had been looking for. I knew that he was not finished with me as he pushed me down onto my knees so that my feet were back on the floor behind the post, my bare soles exposed. I even wondered if I had made a serious mistake . . . until he said, "By the way, now that I've got you anyway and there is no point in lying to you, let me reassure you that you are definitely safe. But - think about it - I do have to do things to you to make you know you are really helpless. Things you probably would not put up with if you were not tied up."

I answered, "I guess that's the risk I took. Thanks for the reassurance though. Damn, Rick, you are good at this." Subserviently on my knees, I felt him behind me, tying my ankles together behind the post, making it impossible for me to rise. I have always had a fetish for women's bound bare feet, but now felt humiliatingly in a similar pose. Then I could not stifle a grunt as Rick used another rope to tie my forearms and upper arms as far back beside the post as he could tug them, which drew me back against it firmly from head to ass.

I felt a moment's flattery when Rick stood in front of me to survey his work so far, and said, "Damn, you look good, Strand. All those muscles, and that set of cock and balls. Getting a little hardon there too. Well, guess I better finish up, then do a couple of chores." "Finish up" meant a thick ball gag forced into my mouth. "Forced" not because I resisted, because I opened my mouth when he instructed me, but because it was large and went behind my teeth instead of being out where I could bite down on it and spit it out easily. Finally, he covered my eyes with a thick sleep mask which prevented not only sight but any light at all from reaching my vision. "Now, my friend, I have to put your car away in a shed so no one will think anyone is home and disturb us. And go through it and your wallet and learn just who you are. And, I'll bet it is not Strand Ankler, is it? Then we'll have a little talk."

Let me jump ahead and tell you right now that things eventually turned out alright for me after he learned my true identity and all about me; but right then, as he told me his plan, I cringed at the thought of having true self known. This would be the first time for this to happen while I was helpless to prevent it; previous captors had never done such a thing. So there I was, alone, naked, in a strange place, prisoner of a relative stranger,with no one knowing of my predicament, bound, gagged, blindfolded, my personal property about to be searched, my car to be driven without my permission. Yet, Rick had unnecessarily reassured me that all would end well. This reassurance was all that prevented me from yielding to terror at that moment; and falling into a peaceful limbo of a new, but long hoped for, pleasure. After, that is, instinctively but with futility,trying to find my way out of my captivity. As I knelt there I thought also of Rick's triumphant smile while he gazed down at me before applying my gag and blindfold. I sorta felt prized at last. No longer alone in my strange desire which was contrary to the almost universal desire for freedom. Strange to say, but my peace was so complete that I almost felt intruded upon when Rick returned after a half-hour or so.

When he did return, Rick said, "Well now, Mr. (no real name here although he had it) of (my real address) who works at (my employer) whose ex's name is (my former wife's name) and who banks at (my bank) and whose checking account has $7,856; which told me he had found my card and PIN.) I had a kind of sinking feeling. But then, he had reassured me earlier. Had he lied? "You should be more careful when you go on these outings, Strand." (back to my bondage game name) Now, my friend, let's just get this gag out so you can answer a few questions. Actually, quite a few. Actually, an inquisition or interrogation. Under torture of course."

And then my captivity became confused for me, though I do know that I was questioned for a long time about my real and closet lives. Rick learned as much about me as he wished. I was helpless on my knees which made me quite submissive to his questioning, but he also did torture me, though in no ways which would be permanently injurious. For instance, he applied clips to my nipples - a fairly standard practise from what I had read. He also whipped my bare soles and thighs. He slapped my face. But more than anything, he extracted my secrets from me through the intimidation of him being free, on his feet and clothed, while I was bound, kneeling and naked.

Seemingly satisfied with his knowledge of my history and fantasies, Rick proceeded to photograph me from several angles. I knew this because he told me; not because I could see, because I was still blindfolded. I later learned that he had also used a self-timer on his camera to include himself in a couple of photos . . . .when he finally orally used me. With a condom I knew, though I could not see.

It began when he announced that he was removing his clothes. Then I felt something warm against the side of my face. "Know what this is, Strand?" I said I did not. "It's my cock and balls. If you ask me to screw you in your mouth, I will put on a condom. If not, we will do it bare. Do you understand?" I said that I did; and having no choice because of the way I was bound, asked him to let me take him in my mouth. Which I opened when I felt him against my lips, knowing that to not do so promptly would surely cause undo punishment. Confession: it was not so bad, and even gave me a kind of feeling of power when he finally gasped and groaned during his orgasm. I'd been made a cocksucker.

Following my rape and a bit of cleanup, Rick again gagged me' this time with a bit type gag which made me feel like an animal. With it in my mouth, I could make sounds and even sort of speak, but it was so animal-like that I was humiliated by it and shortly gave up. Next, Rick untied my wrists and arms from the post and helped me to lie forward on my stomach. Even though my hands were free for a very short time, he retained control over me because of the way my legs were still tied around the post. As I felt Rick mount my upper thighs, I thought he was going to fuck me again . . .this time in my ass. But not quite yet.

What he did do was to tie my arms again, this time forearms together, wrist to elbow, across the small of my back, one above the other. Then, to prevent me from pulling them apart - though it was really too tight to do so, he pulled rope around my upper arms several times and cinched it. Then he untied my ankles from behind the post. This was all done quite gently, but firmly. Thus bound again, I was helped to stand, after which he removed my blindfold. Before moving on, Rick made a sliding loop in the end of a longish rope and put it around my sac, thus leashing me.

For perhaps a half hour, I was then toyed with and photographed. Sometime during this period, he led me to a full length mirror and made me look at myself. Some sight, bound, bitted like an animal, leashed, naked, and him - now nude himself - handling me. He even made some pictures again from in back so that my behind and arm bondage was visible as well as the front of me and my genital bondage in the mirror. By then Rick was getting quite a variety of pictures of me . . .which I knew could be used as blackmail if he so chose. Not to spoil this account, I will now say that he never did blackmail me, but I did not know then that he wouldn't.

It had been about an hour since Rick had orally fucked me, and his sexual recovery must be why he did the next things. Using the leash around my sac, he led me to a long coffee table. He forced/helped me to lie face down on it with my head sort of dangling over one end, vulnerable to another forced blowjob. Then he spread my legs and tied my ankles to the separate end legs. Next, he tied a rope around one leg, just above the knee, reached under the table and tugged before tying the other end around the other knee. So, I was opened at my ass.

Rick was a wonderful combination of relentless but gentle captor. As I lay spread open, he began to carefully massage and lubricate me, first on the insides of my buttocks, then gently worked into the insides of me as far as his finger would go. "You know what's coming, don't you, Strand? But not for a while yet. I have a friend on the West Coast who I've been emailing with, and he also knows about your writing. Now I am going to send him a couple of pictures and tell him how I have you, and let him tell me what to do to you next. But I guess we both suspect what that will be."

And so I had to lie there, spread and lubed, and helplessly wait while Rick used his computer nearby to chat with his friend about me, and send pictures of me. "Hey, Strand, know what Bob says I should do? He thinks you should be plugged and done in your mouth again before I screw your ass. I kind of owe him, so guess that has to be the program." And that is what he did. Then, while plugged, Rick took the next instruction from his West Coast friend, Bob. After signing off - what would be temporarily - Rick said, "Bob says I should do you without a condom. I don't think that would be quite fair, do you?" I shook my head for no. "So, tell you what; I'll take out your gag and slap you around some with my cock. If you make any fuss at all, I'll do what Bob said. And, like before, if you ask me to make you take me in your mouth, I'll use a condom. Got that?"

Rick did exactly as he threatened, and more. He lowered himself gently onto my head and dangled his balls in my face. He swung his penis in slaps against my face. After he made me kiss the side of his shaft, I finally begged him to let me give him a blowjob. Which he did after putting on the condom.

After giving Rick his blowjob, Rick must have sensed how I was beginning to feel about myself - a cocksucker, homosexual. But he said to me, in a very chummy way, "Strand, a guy who changes a sparkplug in his car is not a mechanic. A guy who jogs a couple of miles in the morning before going to work is not really a 'runner.' So, just because of what you are doing, you are not a cocksucking homosexual. You're just someone who had to do it a few times, but that does not say who you ARE. So, enjoy your bondage and don't worry about the other. I'm mainly doing it to you so you will feel really bound and helpless and I will feel in control over a big guy who could beat the shit out of me if he was free."

And so the remainder of the day, the night, and most of Sunday went. I was given a very few periods of relative freedom . . .in handcuffs only . . . so that I could eat a bit, drink a bit, go to the toilet, then it would be back into extreme bondage. Rick tied me in a further variety of ways, including hoisting me with my hands above my head in his barn. He forced sex on me at least a half dozen times. He left me alone some, to ponder my next abuse; sometimes while he chatted with his friend, Bob.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon, my captor informed me that he was about to free me to go home. He advised me that if, once I was free, I gave him any trouble (after all, I am strong enough to - as he put it - beat the shit out of him) he or Bob would send out the pictures to the appropriate places. By then I was ungagged and said that I knew they had me, and there would be no trouble at all.

So, I was finally free. Rick said, before I left, "You've been a great sport, Strand. I'd like you to come back if you feel like it after you've . . . .recovered." He could tell by then that I was pleased by what he had put me through, so added, "And don't worry about the pictures; I'll keep your secrets safe."

I said, "You've been a great captor, Rick. It's what I've always wanted; well, maybe a little more. Only one problem, really."

"What's that, my friend?"

"You never let me, well . . . ."

"Have an orgasm? Nope. You were a captive for my pleasure. I know you'll go home, think about it, and probably jerk off all night."

And that's about what I did. And still do quite frequently.

I never saw Rick again. Shortly after our adventure, he sold his farm, quit his tenure at the college, and moved to the West Coast. So, my dear reader, here I am again, almost burning up with the need to get myself tied up; and no one to do the deed for me. Oh well, maybe there will be another "Response."

The End

Comments, "Response" to Strndnklr@aol.com

26.02.08