Sometimes it's all about doing unto others and having them do it back unto you. This story appeared in Issue 56 [Jan/Feb 1997]. [Note: These photos, some of which were printed with this story, do not illustrate it exactly, but seem to me to recall the spirit and activities described.]
ICE TRIP ON BLACK LEATHER DAY
CHARLOTTE, NC.—I’ve been worth diddly all day. I had a busy time yesterday, meeting a new friend and sharing a common interest: bondage. For two weeks I’d talked to Jimmy about our likes and dislikes, our fantasies. What we worked out was that we’d meet and then go to another friend of mine’s house. I busily set to planning as much as I could, and I reshaped a few ideas based on calls from Jimmy. Saturday afternoon finally came and found me driving up next to Jimmy’s car. I wasn’t much off in my imaginings about him. His description was thorough and dead on. Jimmy was 6', 180 pounds, green eyes—I have a soft spot for green eyes—and auburn hair and beard, close to my size and age. Time to get things rolling.
I asked Jimmy to toss his two cases of toys and gear into the back seat of my car, he got into the front. Jimmy sat there, expectantly staring at me as I pulled my bag of goodies open and produced my favorite bondage mitts. “Would you like to be restrained for the ride over?”
Jimmy held out his hands and spat a quick “Yes!”
I knew Jimmy would enjoy having his hands secured behind his back for the twenty minute drive from his mention of having kidnap fantasies. I reassured him he was safe as I reached across him and buckled his seatbelt and felt his heart pounding. We talked about past experiences and what we looked for in a scene, very relaxed and yet sensual. When we arrived at Lane’s house I released Jimmy and we went inside to talk and to get better acquainted. Lane, like myself, was astounded at the sheer amount of gear that Jimmy had with him. These cases of his were the huge all-purpose sports bags, and each weighed a ton.
We held introductions and sat in the living room, drinking soft drinks and examining Jimmy’s collection. Jimmy and I had ordered our stuff from the same catalogue, but jeez! I think he had something from every page! Jimmy, by the way, is the guy who was in your issue #32, the photo spread by James Bond. I kidded him about his celebrity as we popped his favorite tape into the VCR. It gave us some interesting ideas. Transporting the gear to the bedroom was a chore, but we gave Jimmy the option of going first. We stripped while Lane motioned for me to pick out some items to use. I’ll simplify things by leaving out who belonged to what and get to the good stuff now.
Jimmy stood at attention while I buckled the shoulder to wrist restraint on him. I followed up with a high-fronted posture collar to further keep him at attention. A chewy rubber gag and a leather blindfold completed his upper body bondage. Lane helped me place Jimmy center on the bed. Before Jimmy could get his bearings, we placed thigh to ankle restraints on him: instant hog-tie. We spent the next thirty minutes just stroking our captive’s body, rubbing his tits And cock and balls. Time for the real fun to start. Jimmy was treated to his first ever body massage with ice cubes. He grunted and moaned very nicely. Lane worked his balls while I contented myself with the tits, alternating between sucking, twisting and applying tit clamps. We worked to get Jimmy on his back and held him that way so that Lane could drop lotion on our new friend’s cock, stroking his hardon. Jimmy lasted for as long as he could but was just too excited. He blew within thirty minutes. Now I figured he could have held off longer than that, but Lane rarely lasts that long. Personally, I could go on for an hour.
We wiped Jimmy down with warm wash cloths and took a long time to release him. We wanted him to have plenty of time to catch his breath, you see. Yeah, Lane’s turn came next. This is a turn-on for me because there’s something intriguing about restraining a large guy like Lane. While Jimmy went to the bathroom to wash his face, I strapped Lane into a heavy neck-to-wrist restraint. A rubber wedge gag and wrap-around blindfold helped inspire me. Jimmy came back just in time for me to hand him some ankle restraints. Lane lay flat on the bed, legs tied to the far corners of his beloved brass bed. We snapped a parachute on Lane’s big balls—and I mean BIG—and tied it off to the foot rail of the bed. The cord to the parachute was tight and tugging on it made Lane grunt and try to sit up. Ropes were tied through the front ring on his neck restraint and tied back to the bed’s head railing to keep him flat. Tit clamps went on and we left Lane alone for a few minutes because Jimmy wanted to go to the kitchen to see where the ice was.
He told me that being so immobile was a trip in itself and then to be rubbed down with ice from head to toe was one of the wildest sensations he’d ever had. Now he decided that he would share what he’d just learned with Lane. So we did.
Back in the bedroom, we paused in the doorway to watch Lane struggle in his bonds. Indeed it was a very nice view. We walked back to the bed, sat on either side of the newest victim. I asked if Lane was okay and he grunted affirmative. I should state here that I make it a point to check a bound person’s hands and feet to see if they’ve grown cold. To ask them if they can breathe, to see if they’re handling the scene okay…Safety is a big concern for me. Once I knew Lane was doing fine, I nodded for Jimmy to start applying ice. He began at the legs and worked up. I started at the face and ears and worked down. We met at Lane’s groin. An ice cube was held to Lane’s balls and one held up against his asshole. As is custom, we kept the ice attack up until the ice melted. Lane was shuddering by this point, part from excitement, part from the cool water puddled on his body. I kept kissing Lane’s gag from time to time and could feel the gag move in response.
Jimmy had never been in a top position before and was awkward about what to do unless asked to do something. I had him take turns working Lane’s tits and stroking his cock. I figured out the second time I ever got together with Lane how to exactly jack off Lane for maximum response. Starting at the base with a large glob of lotion, I pulled up slowly, milking. You have to stop just at the top of the shaft, at the base of the crown, then twist your hand slowly, before drawing the closed hand over the head. Lane pushed so hard with his feet against the mattress I thought he’d pull his balls free from the parachute, but darn it, he just couldn’t get loose from anything. He put up with me doing this for a good long while, so I stopped and traded with Jimmy. I rested for a bit, kissing Lane’s face and ears, his chin and gag. He loves kissing. Gagging him of course greatly reduces his ability to do this. I’m going out of my way to torment Lane hoping that he takes the cue to get even when it’s my turn later.
At this point, suffice it to say that when I removed Lane’s tit clamps and chewed I got a face full of chest. He reared up so hard I thought he’d gotten free. No, he didn’t get free, but he certainly got off! I never saw him cum like that before. And of course we kept stroking and nibbling, much to Lane’s protests. Most guys can’t stand to have more cock work after cumming; Lane is like that except he can’t stand to be touched at all, anywhere. Lane started sobbing and gasping for breath, a definite signal to stop. I took the washcloths he’d used to clean up Jimmy with, washed them out and applied them liberally to the bound body. Unfortunately for Lane, I couldn’t figure out the faucet and had to use cold water. This did nothing to help Lane relax. To make up for this torturous set, I let my big friend loose and massaged him tenderly. Lane smiled and started breathing normally again. We broke for five minutes before working me over.
They even gave me the options of what toys I wanted used on me. I dove through the pile and picked out an assortment of goodies. I had been anxious to try the soft leather hood with lacing up both sides and a built-in small, locking collar. This cut off my sight, part of my hearing and partially silenced me. I was told to remain standing. Lane and Jimmy placed my trusty bondage mitts on and locked them behind my back. Lane reached his arms around my shoulders to hold me still, working my tits, while Jimmy knelt down and placed leather bands on my upper thighs and then a set on my ankles. I knew it was the thigh-ankle restraint I had used on Jimmy earlier. Apparently he liked it enough to return the favor. I wasn’t placed on the bed yet, but instead had the high, rigid posture collar strapped on over the thin hood’s collar. This forced my mouth to remain completely closed.
It was good that I couldn’t speak. Jimmy worked a ball stretcher on my sack and tugged it tight. Lane wanted to see weights added now, so that’s what he got. I don’t know how heavy these were, but I could have taken more, a lot more. They took turns tugging my balls and pulling my tits and chest in circles to make the weights swing. That was really nice. You realize my tormentors aren’t going to let me have “nice.” A leather cord was wrapped tightly around the base of my dick, the ends stretched up to the rings on the posture collar. Normally I would be able to bend my neck forward to ease the tension, but found this impossible to do with this collar. Instead I had to crunch my stomach, sort of bend at the abdomen. Lane forced me to straighten up, back to attention. This pulled my cock up while they took turns pulling down on the ball weights. Both guys went for my tits, hard and the way I enjoy it. This set the weights swinging even more.
With a gentle push to topple me I went back on the bed. They rolled me over, face down, and joined my ankles to my thighs. I, too, had my fill of lotion and ice, but only after I had been cock and tit tortured by hanging the ball weights off the bed and jiggling them, working tit clamps and twisting them. God, I was in heaven! Lane and Jimmy discussed how I jacked people off and guessed at how I did it, then practiced on me. Close, but not exactly. I wasn’t complaining, though. When I came, I felt cum splash my shoulders, the mask, and the bed around my head. Usually I hit the wall, but the shoot went wild this time. They cleaned me off, tormenting me by rubbing my dick alternately with cool and warm washcloths until I was writhing. Then I agreed for them to leave me like that, trussed up between them. As Jimmy guessed, I love the bondage “after-glow” so many talk about.
Lane and Jimmy chatted while I struggled and rested between them. They decided to order a pizza and let me free. Lane got dressed for the delivery while Jimmy and I stayed nude in the bedroom. I got an idea concerning Jimmy. In moments I had him wearing his leather chastity shorts. It was difficult to get him in these as he was already sporting a hardon again, but I gave him little choice and he didn’t argue. I added the optional lock and sealed him in tight. Lane had left to get the door and some plates. He was shocked when I walked into the livingroom, arm over Jimmy’s shoulders, with poor Jimmy stuffed in his shorts, wrists cuffed to his thighs. I sat him on the couch and fed myself and Jimmy. Once I had been in a similar position of having to be fed while in bondage and loved it. Jimmy, by the size of his cock straining under its bondage, did too.
Lane stared at Jimmy, first in envy/humor, then in curiosity. Lane, remember, was fully clothed. He brightened with a look of realization and popped a tape into the VCR. I thought it might be another bondage tape—dinner entertainment to go with our supper slave. No, it was a Star Trek Next Generation episode tape. Lane made the statement, and I agreed that our trussed up dinner guest bore a great resemblance to a young Cmdr. W. Riker. “No. 1,” as we took to calling Jimmy, blushed and finished his pizza. We lounged while digesting, talking about the afternoon. The others know that I can get creative and figured I had more in store for us. Of course.
I loosened Jimmy’s wrist restraints from the locks on his thighs while Lane went on the bed. We used an inflatable gag and the posture collar Lane had been eyeing all day. We placed the open-palm, baggy leather mitts—Lane’s own and favorite toy—on the big guy. Lane requested not to be blindfolded because he wanted to see how I worked his cock and balls. I agreed to no blindfold.
Flat on his back, Lane enjoyed the sensations of us buckling some ankle cuffs on him, bending his knees, and then locking the ankles to the bondage mitts in an arms down at the sides position. Quietly I asked Jimmy to tie the collar down to the headrailings like before. Lane seemed to protest when he realized he couldn’t sit up a little to watch me stroking him later. I reminded him I agreed to no blindfold, not that he could watch. To balance things, I stated up front no ice would be used on him. He grunted in appreciation. However, I put the parachute back on his balls—and I still mean BIG balls—and ran a cord to the foot of the bed and chided him about the comments he’d made about tying cement blocks and such to my balls earlier. Jimmy contented himself by handing me weights to tie on the cord like he was assisting a doctor. All in all we used four and a half pounds, a lot for someone who’d never done that before. He admitted later that he liked it and could have handled more.
I smiled innocently to Jimmy and swiftly locked his wrists back at his sides and took him back to the living room. I went back to the bedroom where I gently worked Lane’s tits and drizzled cool lotion on his cock, working even more gently than before. Lane had protested earlier, saying that he didn’t know if he could get off again. I promised him he could. Making sure he could breathe, and was comfortable, I left him to enjoy his captivity, carrying an armload of toys for Jimmy.
Meanwhile, back in the living room… Jimmy smiled slightly when I came back. I stared at him for a few minutes, not saying anything, just admiring the view. The sofa was off white, while Jimmy’s hairy, dark complexion and leather shorts—bulging again—made a great contrast. Sitting next to him on the sofa, Jimmy and I talked about if he’d liked everything so far. He assured me he had and was ready for more. This was said while I’m buckling padded ankle restraints on him, ones matching the wrist cuffs holding his arms down. Next I added a black leather bondage collar. Yes, it was a black leather day. I slid close, draping my arm around my captive’s shoulders, rubbing his tits and talking. My own dick was rising again. Jimmy’s never softened, especially as I rubbed the leather trapped mass.
I had not hooked the ankles together. After a quick kiss, I helped Jimmy up and into the spare bedroom. Then I hooked his ankles together and gagged him tightly. He moaned as I rubbed his feet and nibbled them. He didn’t even see me clip his favorite clamps on his tits. Time, I told him, to go check Lane. Lane, by the way, was more than fine. He squirmed and whimpered under my care. He did manage to wiggle enough that his parachute slipped off. Scared the piss out of me. I asked him repeatedly if he was okay. I lingered, rubbing his nuts, untangling the cord and weights on the floor so nobody would trip, massaging his shoulders. His lusty brown eyes told me he was more than fine. I kissed his forehead gently and left for Jimmy’s room.
Good as Jimmy looked on the sofa, he looked even better on the bed. I could have stood there looking for a long time, the expression on his face that just begged me to do something for/to him. I rubbed his body from top to bottom, unlocked his feet and helped him stand. I hugged him close. He melted into me. Life, I thought, while rubbing his leather covered ass, is good. As much fun as this was, I refuse to leave someone in bondage for long without being around. Safety again. Jimmy stared into my eyes and they grew really big while I took the tit clamps off. I gently rubbed the blood flow back. I wondered if Jimmy’s knees were going to hold him up. I told him to carefully listen. The gag would come out, but everything else stayed. He could work on any part of Lane with his mouth. He nodded and it was done.
A few minutes later as I stroked Lane’s throbbing dick and fingered his balls, watching Jimmy’s head moving from tit to tit, I thought I’m really lucky to have these guys here. This was going to be special, I determined, the best bondage-orgasms they had ever had, desiring to give them each a present of sorts. I left the cuffs on Jimmy’s wrists but unlocked them from his sides. Jimmy went for Lane’s groin and legs. I used my mouth and hands on everything above the waist, occasionally sucking Lane’s cock. While kissing him, I shook Lane’s shoulders and told him to breathe and stop holding air in like that before he passed out. He couldn’t stand it anymore and came. Too bad we didn’t notice. And I’m honest in this. Jimmy kept stroking and I kept kissing and chewing on ears and neck and tits. Lane, in pure pain/pleasure by now, thrashed about until I took the gag out. “I came, dammit!” was all he said in between panting.
Jimmy and I apologized, but too late. Lane said there were no hard feelings, but revenge of some sort was obligatory once he had us bound. Jimmy went next: off came the shorts, collar and wrist cuffs. On went thigh to wrist restraints, the double-sided lace-up hood I mentioned earlier, and a ball stretcher to go with the padded ankle cuffs I left on him. Lane did most of this, determined to get satisfaction out of this. He replaced the collar and used rope to tie the shoulders and collar to the bed frame. Jimmy’s feet were stretched to the lower bed corners as tight as feasible. Lane and I gave our friend a full front body massage, this time with lotion, skipping the cock and balls. I went back to eating Jimmy’s feet while Lane sucked cock—and an expert he is. Jimmy was writhing in seconds, bucking his hips for attention, which is what Lane attacked in extra earnest. I lubed up a couple of fingers and slowly worked them in and out of our captive’s ass. I got the prostate there a couple of times. On that last time Jimmy squealed and splattered the wall, my legs, his head… The squeals got louder behind the hood when Lane continued his ministrations. He rated it as his best orgasm and I would have to rate it one of the best I’d seen.
There wasn’t a break in the action. In a heartbeat of freeing Jimmy, I was wrapped from the shoulders down in latex strips, mummified fantasies came to life there and then. I had been wrapped in Saran Wrap once before, but this was so different it was another world. I was blindfolded, titty-clamped and gagged to finish the picture. Jimmy, determined not to be the only one to suffer at Lane’s hands and mouth, told the big galoot that he watched how I worked Lane’s cock and eagerly demonstrated. The two of them got my method down—after plenty of practice. My tits went numb under the clamps—yes!
They took turns torturing my cock until I begged for mercy, useless under the gag. I almost shot three times, thwarted every time by the rubbing and squeezing of my cock head. I thought I’d wet all over the bed. Some angel of mercy got them to stop and finally get me off—after an hour of this! Again I was left in bondage to deal with my “after-glow.” Yes, I really was lucky, this eleven hour day of bondage and new friends, even though I think I got the better present at the end. And I hope they keep on giving!
where do I report? Great story.
Posted by: Bondagebuddy2 | November 23, 2013 at 10:43 AM