My laptop's in the hospital again, having a brain transplant. While this is obviously a bad thing, and is having an unfortunate effect on regular blog postings, it's pushed me to go back through my thousands of emails. In the course of doing that, I came upon this great story, which came in a few months ago and obviously fell through the cracks.
BONDING WITH TONY
Recollections of first time bondage experiences bring back a memory I will share. It was the late 1960’s. I was a senior in high school. My father had died a couple of years earlier and I guess I was in search of an older man to be a father figure. A guy named Tony lived in the house next to ours. He had recently married a woman who had several young children from another marriage and I think they had one child of their own. Tony was a classic good looking guy: tall, blond hair, lean muscular build, great smile. He often did yard work with his shirt off. I remember my mother and other women commenting on what a show off he was. It was clear they liked what they saw.
One Saturday in the spring I was mowing the grass. Next door Tony, wearing no shirt, was working on his truck. When he saw me he smiled and told me to come over when I was finished and he would put me to work. I laughed and asked him if it wasn’t a little cool to be outside without a shirt. Tony replied that the sun felt great on his bare skin. A strong urge came over me to take Tony up on his offer to put me to work. Now I know I was sexually attracted to this strong, masculine guy. Then I just felt I wanted to be with him.
I finished up the grass in a hurry and jumped the fence to tell Tony I was ready to go to work. He must have sensed my hero worship, so he humored me. I handed Tony tools as he finished up on his truck. He slammed the hood and told me it was time to do some real work. Tony was fencing off a section of his big yard to make a pen for his dogs. This meant digging holes for the fence posts. I was in okay shape from school sports, but this was real back breaking work. When I started to sweat I shed my shirt. I had never gone shirtless in public before. I did this in imitation of Tony. I was still a pretty skinny kid, but taking my shirt off made me feel like a man.
Tony took a break to smoke a cigarette. While he watched me work, I jokingly said he was a real slave driver. Tony said hard work would put a little meat on my bones. He had me digging two holes for a gate. I dug the second hole in the wrong place, too far from the first, before Tony noticed what I was doing. This pissed him off. He told me when slaves don’t follow orders they get punished and said I had better go to the garage for a whooping.
I thought he was joking, but wanted to go along with the game whatever it was, so I put down my shovel and headed for the garage. Tony followed me inside and shut the door. The garage had a high roof to accommodate big trucks. While I stood wondering what was going to happen, Tony took two sections of rope and looped them over one of the ceiling beams. Watching him do this, I started to think he was serious about punishing me.
Tony stood by the hanging ropes and beckoned me over. He tied one of my wrists with the rope. Slaves get strung up for a whipping he said when he tied my second wrist and pulled both ropes tight so my arms were stretched over my head. I was a little afraid but mostly I was turned on by the idea that Tony was doing this to me so I offered no resistance. Tony next tied off my legs, pulling them apart and securing the ropes to posts supporting the garage roof. He said he had been real good at tying knots in Boy Scouts. I was pretty immobilized but not uncomfortable.
Once Tony had me tied up he lit a cigarette and smoked it down to the end. He asked me if my daddy had whooped me. I told him I had been spanked when I was young. Tony said I was a man now and men don’t get spanked. They take their punishment on their bare backs. By now he probably noticed I had an erection and was enjoying this game. I do not remember looking to see if he was hard.
Tony slipped off his belt, stood behind me, and told me I was going to get ten. He strapped me with the belt doubled over. It hurt, but not a lot. Since then I have taken real strappings and know Tony was holding back, making this more of a game than real punishment. I squirmed each time the belt hit my back, but with my arms and legs secured I couldn’t move much.
When Tony was finished he placed a chair in front of me, sat down, and smoked another cigarette. He looked at me while he smoked in silence. I am guessing he liked the sight of his victim strung up shirtless. When Tony finished his smoke he told me I took the strapping like a man. He said he was going to leave me to think about how I fucked up while he dug the hole in the right place.
Tony was gone for about an hour, but it felt longer. I pulled on the ropes and wondered when he would come back and free me. When he finally untied me he laughed and said I would probably think twice about offering to work for him again. I said no, I wanted to prove I could do a good job.
I helped Tony with jobs around his house several more times before he moved away. Each time I wanted to repeat what had happened in the garage, but I was afraid to tell him this and didn’t want to deliberately mess up so he would punish me. I wanted him to praise my work. Looking back it is hard to imagine this happened. There was nothing overtly sexual about it, but even 40 years ago tying up a kid and strapping him could have got Tony in trouble if I had complained. He must have enjoyed tying me up (there was a lot of rope in the garage) and known I was enjoying playing this game of the master punishing his slave too much to cause any trouble.
All the ingredients of this early experience with bondage took hold in my mind. I like to receive some form of corporal punishment when I am tied up. And I have never forgotten the sight of Tony sitting on that chair leisurely smoking a cigarette after he had strapped my back with his belt. If a guy is willing to smoke, especially a cigar, while he puts me in bondage and punishes me, I can’t ask for anything better.
Please email me about your own first time bondage experiences, or your most memorable ones. I never get tired of reading them, and apparently neither do most of you, either.
Comments