I have a pretty good memory for practically every story we ever published, and every model I ever tied up. But every once in a while a face eludes me, or I come across some snippet in my files that I don't remember ever having seen, no less published. Here's one interesting piece that apparently was a long comment attached by a reader to one of our surveys. It's in my file for Issue 79 (November, 2000), which was soon after I'd stopped editing B&G myself, so for a short while wasn't being as attentive as I had been in the past to everything that came over the transom. I think it's kind of great.
I’ve always liked the look, feel and smell of leather (with the right inspiration, I could easily acquire a taste for it, too!), and I’ve entertained myself with bondage fantasies for years and years. The problem is, most of the time, I have difficulty finding playmates with whom to put plans into practice. I’m not opposed to spankings, etc., but real pain doesn’t do much in the name of romance. I can also do without the “Master & Servant” attitude. With B&G, I’ve finally found a forum wherein bondage is displayed as, well, cozy, friendly, and, dammit, fun. I usually feel very at ease, even safe, all bundled up, with my trap shut, and I’m not interested in people with delusions of omnipotence coming at me with pointy things to work out their control issues.
There’s a certain mixture of paradox and utility in my attraction to bondage. How can I explain the delicious feeling of frustration in wanting to do things with my hands and mouth, yet being unable to? Few people (in my area, it seems) understand that; they look at me funny. The utility is that my partner and I finish closer together: I have an unfortunate habit of getting all swept up in the pleasure of a blow job, it’s got to happen faster, and I end up taking the matter into my own hands. As you can imagine, this is a cause of considerable consternation in my partners, who generally are of the notion that they should finish what they start.
The solution? Well, there’s a little story…
Visiting a friend of mine in Oklahoma City, I found myself parking with him out by the lake. This, in itself, was a dream come true. In the course of things, he goes down on me — better and better. My fantasy had always been the reverse; I’d never dared imagine the ecstacy of the position I found myself in. So, there we were, climax imminent — and I decide to take the controls.
“What are you doing?” he says. “What do you think you’re doing? Am I doing something wrong?”
I told him, no, he was terrific, and I explained my problem.
“Ah!” he says, “We can fix that.” And, he fixed that: he had an older model car, the kind without the shoulder-strap seatbelt, the kind with the adjustable strap lap belts. He scoots me forward, says, “Lean up, and put your hands behind you,” loops the strap around my wrists in a mysterious configuration, buckles it, and tightens it down. My hands aren’t going anywhere. He goes back to work in my lap.
Remember that feeling of frustration I mentioned earlier? Well, amid my oohing and aahing, I was also griping and telling him how to do what he was doing perfectly well already —so, he stopped, leaned over to get to the backseat floorboard, produced a roll of duct tape, and gagged me with it, circling my mouth, and fixing my head very firmly to the headrest. Then, he went back to what he was doing, and took his sweet time, let me tell you.
In fact, he took it several times.
Speaking of tape, I’ve also noticed that cloth tape, the kind trainers use to wrap athletes’ knees/ankles/etc. tends to conform to one’s lips. I’ll never forget the first time I was gagged with it and my friend kissed me, right through it. It was very erotic, extremely sensual. I’m getting firm, just thinking about it.
I’m not sure when my first bondage experience was. It might have been 5th or 6th grade, possibly earlier. When I was maybe 6 or 7, there was an older boy who was teasing me, really giving me a rough time. I threatened to tell, if he didn’t stop, and the next thing I knew, he had my arms pinned, and a hand over my mouth, and he told me I wasn’t going anywhere until I promised I wouldn’t tell. It was like having my whole body, and mouth, hugged. It felt great.
Later, I was walking home from school with my friend Brent (this was in 5th or 6th grade), and we were talking about Houdini, who knows why. Anyhow, I ended up making the challenge (not entirely in childish innocence, ho ho) that I could get out of anything he could put me in. No one is home when we arrive — ah! Well, what to use? He finally settled on scotch tape. I smirked because I’d tried this on myself before, and found it no challenge at all. So — I sit in a chair in the dining room, and he goes to work, taping my wrists, knees and ankles. I start squirming, and he goes a step further than we had discussed — he tapes my mouth, heavily. Then, the little creep looks at his watch, says, “I gotta get home, see you at school tomorrow,” and splits!
Splits, that is, after it is quite clear that I can’t get loose, or get any of the nasty names I’m trying to call him past the layer of tape on my face. Five minutes after he’s gone, I hear the car pull up in the driveway! Fortunately, he hadn’t actually tied me to the chair, so I was able to hop to my bedroom, finish my escape, and avoid any troublesome questions from the folks. But it was close!
It was about this time that I discovered how to turn an ordinary, button-up denim jacket into a straitjacket, but that’s another story. Actually, I have a few stories about that. If you’d like to hear them, I would be happy to oblige you in the future. I also have a number of tawdry tales from my high school years, when I was manager/asst. trainer for the football team, and yes, that’s how I know about the cloth tape I mentioned earlier.
In closing, thanks, again, for this wonderful magazine. It is inescapably appealing!
I wonder if he ever did send in a story about turning his denim jacket into a straitjacket or if somewhere in my files lurk some tawdry tales from his high school years that we never published. I hope so, and will make a point of posting them if I find them.
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