Legal Slave

I've received a few stories from readers but am still waiting for replies to questions I've asked about them, so instead of leaving all of you who aren't tied up with nothing to do with your hands, I've reached into my grabbag of B&G stories and pulled one out that I think you'll enjoy. Remember, while I say, and believe, that bondage is the same as it's always been and therefore no bondage story can ever seem old, or get stale, the new world in which that bondage takes place has changed considerably, especially over the last two decades. I'm saying this particularly for young readers who can't imagine a world where computers were big, clunky things that you couldn't carry around with you. The writer of this story was obliged to go to his boss's house to work on his boss's large computer when he wrote me back in 1996, whereas nowadays, unless his boss had come up with a better excuse to get him to his house on weekends, he might have been able to do the boss's work at his own place, on his own laptop or ipad or smart phone, thereby missing an invaluable opportunity to become not only a better lawyer but a happy slave.

 

This story was published in Issue 56 [Jan/Feb 1997] and was titled:

 

DIGNIFIED ATTORNEY TEACHES ASS KISSING FUCK LAWYERBOY A LESSON AS BOUND YOUTH LOOKS ON

 

CHICAGO, IL. I have a million bondage fantasies, but one of them actually got fulfilled last summer.

 

When I was a law clerk at a large firm on the east coast, one of the partners asked me to do some legal research at night and on weekends, at the law school and his home computer. I was happy for the extra bucks, but it turned into a lot more. Rawley was Mister-Three-Piece, button-down attorney at the office, but at home he’d parade around with nothing on except shorts, with a tee shirt if he felt like dressing up. He knew how to show off his body, and he had to know I was interested. He encouraged me to dress casual at his place after I showed up in my “dress to impress” suit the first time, and thereafter I didn’t wear much either. Rawley is in his late 40’s or early 50’s, handsome, in great shape, with a thick moustache and thick graying hair. I imagined how it would feel if he tied me up for sex.

 

Rawley and I got closer, became friends, got drunk one night and ended up in bed, fucking each other like weasels in heat. I was the fuckee, he the fucker, and he made me call him Sir while I was begging for more. The first two times, there was no bondage involved, but things started jumping on the third time. I was at Rawley’s place, working at his computer. It was hot, and I had taken off my shirt. Rawley put one hand on my bare shoulder, and put the other one over my mouth, not painfully hard but tight enough to gag me completely. The hand stayed clamped across my mouth while Rawley said he was going to tie me up and make me his legal slave, at least that’s what he called it. I nodded my head in consent.

 

Scared and excited, I stripped naked, and Rawley pushed me over the desk. He crossed my wrists behind me, one over the other, and tied my hands with black leather cord. A few minutes later, I was kneeling between his legs, licking his hairy balls and sucking cock. When he was good and stiff, Rawley rewarded me with a gag stuffed inside my mouth and another piece of cloth tied around my horny head. He snapped a leather cockring tight around my dick, and tied my ankles with leather cord. This was only the second time anyone had tied me up, and I thrashed around on the floor, bound to please, while Rawley pulled on his dick until he shot his cum on my chest.

 

Rawley fashioned me into a professional office slave, so to speak. I had to do his bidding all day long, even at the expense of other assignments. Most of the other attorneys thought Rawley was just mentoring me through the finer points of the legal world. They didn’t know about the times I came in at dawn to get my other work done so I could serve Rawley when the business day began. They didn’t know about the lunch hours or breaks I spent handcuffed in the men’s room or bound and gagged curled under Rawley’s desk, with the gag off long enough to suck Rawley’s dick. He was into the Mr. Benson fantasy, minus the bottomless bank account. He was the Master, I was his boy, and I started to spend most nights at his place in some kind of restraint.

 

Rawley’s favorite bondage had me in his basement den, with my hands tied over my head and roped to a wooden beam. Rawley used a tape measure to figure the distance between my wrists and the ceiling. He had me tie some rope securely around the heavy beam, leaving just enough of the ropes hanging down for him to tie up my hands. In that stretched position, which felt great to a point, my heels lifted off the floor, forcing me to balance on my toes and the balls of my feet. Then I’d be gagged for the evening, a rag gag with a rope tied around my head or a leather strap with a plug that filled my mouth and buckled on the sides. I wasn’t fucked in that position, usually. Rawley said he liked to watch his boy struggle while he jacked off. But Rawley’s true kink was being watched while having sex, and that’s what I really wanted to write about.

                                            Photo by RVJ studios

 

This happened on the weekend after the 4th of July. After an hour or two of work. Rawley made me strip down to my briefs, and I was on my knees with his hands on my head, getting face fucked. My hands were tied and I was led to the basement and tied to the overhead beam, and gagged with the leather bit. Rawley tickled my feet while he roped them together. He felt me up for awhile, and I was in the usual helpless delight at the touch. Rawley massaged my tits and told me he had a surprised, then he snapped the elastic on my underwear and left me stretched and hanging for a few minutes. I could hear rustling and the sound of two voices upstairs, and I became embarrassed about someone else seeing me bound and gagged especially if it was someone from the office.

 

A few minutes later, Rawley came back downstairs, naked under a bathrobe, and he had a guest by the arm, and I remember this vividly. He was a couple years younger and maybe an inch shorter than me. He had a nice body, well tanned and defined, and too much mousse in his curly brown hair, and he moaned like a wild man when he first saw me. He didn’t have a shirt on, just a pair of faded jeans ripped at the knees, butt and crotch, and his hands were bound behind his back with the ends of the rope trailing on the floor behind him like a tail. He was gagged with some black cloth, which explained why he moaned instead of saying hello.

 

I’d never been in the presence of another bound man, and certainly not in those circumstances, and I went crazy at the sight of him, I have to admit. How long had he been upstairs, I thought. Rawley wasn’t gone long enough to leave the house and tie up a neighbor. Had he been tied and gagged and hidden away before I’d arrived? If so, he was in his third hour of bondage, but I never got a good answer to that one.

 

Rawley said this was Mitch, and Mitch was going to be our audience from now on. He said having somebody watching turned him on, particularly if the watcher was tied, too, and that Mitch needed a few lessons. Mitch continued his choruses of “MMMMMMMM!” “MMMMMMMM!!”, and I think he was more scared than me.

 

As Mitch walked by, his bound arm, all tension, brushed against my chest, and it was electric. We looked each other in the eye, as if some great understanding had been reached. We were both proud to be in bondage, we were both Rawley’s property for the immediate future, and we couldn’t escape this even if we were free to run.

 

Rawley took an old kitchen chair, with curved metal rungs and vinyl padding, and sat it down a few feet from where I hung from the beam. I watched, helpless and loving it, as Rawley struggled to get the increasingly sexy Mitch fastened in the chair with his bound arms over the back of the seat. Rawley took the ropes that hung from Mitch’s wrists, then bent his feet back and tied them together under the chair. The rope was so taut that it exaggerated the rips in Mitch’s jeans, revealing more of his tanned knees and thighs. The pull on his arms seemed to lift him up from the seat and made his handsome smooth chest jut forward a bit more. I wondered if Rawley had been tying Mitch up for a long time. You wonder a lot of things when you’re tied and practically naked in front of someone you hardly know.

 

Rawley slapped Mitch and told him to behave or else. Or else what? He ordered Mitch to keep an eye on him as he taught this “Ass kissing fuck lawyer boy” a lesson in behavior. Rawley got rid of his robe, slipped on a Trojan, and used a penknife to slice off my underwear. He wrapped his arms around me, a hand on my dick and one around my throat, as he prodded at my butt with his spit and his gloved dick. Mitch was screaming as he watched the forced seduction, hell, so was I. Rawley’s mouth licked and sucked my face and neck, his hands pinched my tits, his dick fucked, until my load of cum was on the floor, near my struggling toes and what was left of my BVDs. Rawley kept it up, and I think I could see a dark, round spot on Mitch’s crotch when I could keep my eyes in focus. I was straining to break free, but Mitch’s struggles in the chair were incredible. He was rocking back and forth and side to side, twisting and screaming like someone had built a fire under him!

 

Rawley pulled his dick from my butt, snapped off the rubber and fisted his dick, watching as his “boys” writhed and saying, “Yeah, oh yeah, SHIT yeah!” again and again, until he came with a groan that would have turned on the dead.

 

Rawley put his hands on Mitch’s shoulders and bent to kiss the top of his head, while telling him what good slaves we were. I was exhausted, and my arms were dead tired. Rawley untied me from the beam and undid the ropes around my feet, but my hands were still bound and the leather gag stopped my thanks. I was ready to fall on my knees and fucking worship Rawley, but he took my arms and pushed me up the stairs, leaving Mitch tied and mumbling for more.

 

Rawley said he had to go out for awhile but he’d be back soon. Meanwhile, he said Mitch and I should spend the night getting to know each other since we’d be seeing a lot of each other. Face down and spreadeagled, my wrists and ankles were roped to the corners of the guest room bed. I was a prisoner again, and I bucked on the bed to no avail. Rawley fetched Mitch, who came in totally naked having lost his pants somewhere on the way upstairs. He was tied on top of me, his wrists to my wrists, his feet to my feet, with a well hung semi-stiff dick curled toward his navel and resting along the crack in my butt cheeks, trying to wriggle its way inside.

 

To paraphrase an old saying, Mitch wasn’t heavy, he was my bondage brother for the night. He moaned and whined a great deal, though, I would have told him to shut up and enjoy the sensations as much as I did, if I could have. he was also the sweatiest dude in town and the room wasn’t air conditioned, and soon my back was wringing wet with his perspiration. Rawley laughed and watched, jacking off and rubbing his hands on us and between us.

 

Mitch redoubled his efforts to break free when Rawley left the house. I have to admit, even I was concerned about Rawley having a traffic accident or getting mugged or somehow never coming back to untie us. But it was a thrilling feeling, this bondage with the possibility of no escape! But only a possibility, I prayed.

 

Mitch’s hot breathing into my hair and neck was really turning me on. He was scraping his face against my neck and the leather strap of my gag. The nuzzling felt good, but he was really trying to remove the cloth around his mouth. He worked at it for a few minutes and finally succeeded. A big glob of spit rolled down my neck and I heard him sigh, the first unmuffled sound I’d heard from Mitch.

 

“I got my gag, man, let me get yours,” he said, and started attacking the two straps and buckles around my head, but they were in too awkward a position, or his tongue and teeth were not talented enough to loosen the restraints from that angle. But he kept trying, and kept up a running conversation, things like, “Are you okay?” “I can’t reach it, turn your head.” He’ll come back and untie us, don’t worry.” “Jesus, I’m scared.” “He does this a lot.” “I want to fuck you, I’m so fucking horny.” “Where the fuck is he?” “The next time you’re tied up, I’m gonna fuck your pretty ass.” Small talk. Now I thought Mitch was eminently fuckable, so the idea had some appeal that I pursued in a later bondage session.

 

Mitch finally shut up, and started licking the back of my neck as we lay there for a couple of hours, tugging on our ropes, waiting for Rawley’s return. And when he came back, he just gagged Mitch again and left us there for another hour!

 

That’s how I spent my summer vacation, teacher. Most of the times when Rawley had me, Mitch was watching, nude or almost nude, with his hands and feet tied or chained and a gag in his mouth. I came to enjoy Mitch watching me get fucked, and now having an audience for sex, captive or otherwise, is one of my fondest turn ons. Does anyone else out there feel the same way? 

 

Well, readers, I'd love to hear your answers to that question, and any experiences you had where that happened. Write me.