Clean-up time for a change. I’m going through old letters, some from readers who wrote me for publication in B&G, letters I may or may not have published, others from readers who’d been published and with whom I went on to have an extensive correspondence. I’m not sure if I ever published this part of one such reader’s letter, but I enjoyed it a lot on rereading and think you will, too.
HOGTIED BY SISTER’S BOYFRIEND
Yes, I did get my actual start in bondage at the early age of 5; however, I believe it goes back to earlier years than that. I remember having fantasies of being in bondage and tortured by men wearing black leather pants, knee high boots and flowing capes with blood red lining. Interestingly enough, in the later years, I developed a clandestine, macabre fascination, according to my parents, for the Nazis. I coveted pictures of those men; but when found by my parents, they were destroyed.
Yes. At the age of five, I was bound, helplessly hog-tied by a handsome local farm boy who was on leave from the U.S. Marines. I was being a typical little brother. He tried bribery which failed to hold my interest long enough to give him the necessary time with my sister. He threatened me repeatedly with being tied up. Finally he excused himself and returned a moment later with rope in his hands.
My sister joked about how I was about to get what I deserved. He dragged me across the room where he bound my wrists at my back, my legs together and my ankles up behind me and secured them to my hands. Gladly I submitted to him. He thought it would keep me from being under foot, commenting to my sister that this was the way he kept his baby brother when he became a pest. However, I had other plans. I rolled, twisted in the luxury of the bondage until I reached the necking pair. Little did they know my struggle was a put on. All my sister did was giggle. My sister's boyfriend kept me from reaching them by placing his boots on my ass. Whewl Even now, I can remember the electric charge that went running down his leg to touch my ass.
I don't remember how long I was held in bondage, used as a footstool, but I do remember my mother entering the room where my sister and I were held captivated by the Marine. My bondage was explained away as a cowboy and Indian game. Mother seemed satisfied and left the room. Sometime later, I was untied and went happily to bed.
Oh crap!
I think I remember something about a babysitter, rope and me being immobilized for a lengthy time, long enough for pleasure to become major pissed off. I think it was real anyway, I have a vivid imagination and I had already been bound in public at 8yo., in the scouting system no less.
It seems that by 9, I was the one doing the tying.
Posted by: Leo Devin | January 06, 2015 at 08:44 AM