This great story appeared in Issue 63 of B&G [Mar/Apr 1998]. The model was a beautiful kid, Tony Cielino, recently out of the Navy himself.
“You know how to follow orders, don’t you, sailor boy…?”
LAS VEGAS, NV. While I was in the Navy and stationed at Whidbey Island N.A.S., a fellow lieutenant buddy and I pooled our bucks and got a great place off the base. It was nice and private, and it let me keep my stash of gay mags and letters in a nice and private place. My housemate, Eric, was straight but cool about things. We lived in a two-story house that had been converted into two separate apartments with separate entrances. Eric and I had the first floor and the cellar, while two guys upstairs had the second-story and the attic. It’s the guys who lived upstairs that I wanted to write you about.
Les and Matt, the guys upstairs, were friendly enough but they kept to themselves, which was fine. They were also nice to look at, which was also fine because they would show off their warts sunbathing in the back yard on warm days. I’d watch the show from my bedroom window, and while I tried to be discreet I know they caught me a few times. Occasionally the mail would get mixed up which was no big deal. We’d just drop it into the other mailbox or bring it to them.
By mistake, a letter came to our place addressed to Les. I recognized the return address as a mail order place specializing in magazines and 8 mm films featuring gay guys bound and gagged. I’d seen the address in an ad in a well-worn Advocate, and I remembered it because I’d wanted to write but didn’t dare. I resisted the temptation to open it and take a peek, but it wasn’t easy. Instead, I screwed up the courage to deliver it in person and talk to Les and Matt about what we seemed to share in common.
I knocked on their door and Les answered, stripped to the waist and barefoot. After some small talk, and after I put my eyeballs back in the sockets and closed my mouth, I handed him the letter. He blushed a little when he saw the return address, but I let him know that he didn’t have to and that I’d wanted to write to “those guys” myself. He smiled and said I could borrow it when he was through. We’d just told each other that we were gay, and it was like asking about the weather. I guess I needed someone to dish with, and we stood on the stoop and got to know each other better. I left him with the letter and ran downstairs, excited but unsure about what to do next.
They made that decision for me, inviting me upstairs for a beer one day while Eric was in Seattle. One beer led to another and another, and I saw that Les and Matt were pretty upfront about their relationship once they knew I was okay about things. I found myself drifting up to see them whenever Eric wasn’t around. Gradually, we broached the subject of bondage, and I admitted I was curious. Les showed me some of the “toys” he had, things like handcuffs, gags, leather shackles and the like. I started getting turned on just seeing them, handling them.
Les winked and opened a drawer and pulled out some photos of Matt bound and gagged in various ways. He took the handcuffs and dangled them before my eyes, and I felt like a man starving. He locked a cuff around one wrist, and asked if I wanted to have some fun. “Sure!” I said.
As soon as I said that I regretted my eagerness, but it was too late to turn back. My arms went behind my back as my hands were cuffed together. Matt came in from the other room to watch the show, as Les encouraged me to “get into it” and enjoy being helpless and under someone else’s control. It was just a few minutes spent twisting and grunting and trying to make like Houdini and get free, but it was enough. I loved the feeling of bondage and I knew I wanted more. So did Les and Matt.
This was the first time I’d experimented with bondage under Les and Matt’s control, and it wasn’t the last. From that simple beginning, we’d get together and explore our mutual bondage love. After the handcuffs, Les got me tied up with rope for the first time, which I loved a lot. Once I was called on the phone and told to come upstairs asap. When I got there, Les opened the door and led me into the bedroom, where Matt lay naked on the bed, hands bound and gagged.
Les asked me if I wanted to help tie Matt up. What a question! I got to work tying up Matt’s feet under Les’s direction. Once Matt’s ankles were bound together and Les tied a rope around Matt’s stiff dick, he pushed me on the bed next to Matt and had my wrists cuffed in a flash. I wasn’t stripped like Matt, but Les did take off my sandals before tying my feet together with tape. From our first encounter they learned that I was super ticklish, and Les had a thing for tickling and feet. So he tickles my bare feet until I’m nearly crying and rock hard, then he takes a length of duct tape and tapes my mouth shut, leaving Matt and me bound and gagged on the bed together, hardons raging.
I don’t want to bore you but there were many other occasions like that one, usually when Eric was out. While some of my fantasies featured Eric in a starring role, telling him about my deep and abiding lust for bondage may have been too much for even him, I think. Of course he nearly found out. Once Les and Matt came downstairs into our place and brought some rope, and they had me bound spreadeagle on the bed for a while. They made me strip down to my underwear and spread my limbs to all four corners of my bed, and tied loops of rope around my wrists and ankles, which were tied to parts of the bed frame. They gagged me with some duct tape and started jerking me off through my underwear.
I loved the feeling of being stretched that tight, barely able to move or speak as they pumped my dick until I had an old fashioned roaring hardon. But they barely got me untied before Eric came home. I managed to jump into a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, but my dick was leaking pre-cum and was still stiff! Eric didn’t notice, and Les and Matt made up some story about coming by to drop off some mail on their way out and about. Whatever, Eric believed it. Les and Matt stayed to chat for a few minutes and then left with the plastic bag containing the rope and tape, and me still horny at the thought of what they’d done to me! I had to head for the head to jerk off my hardon and catch my breath.
For my birthday, I got a surprise. There was a card marked “Diego” in the mailbox when I got home that day. It wasn’t addressed so I figured some local friend had dropped off a birthday card. It was a birthday card like none I’d ever seen. I grew up in a conservative part of Texas, after all. The card, which I’ll never throw away, had a black and white photo of a naked hunk tied to some sort of rack, wrists and ankles tied and spread, and with a single lit birthday candle stuck into his shaft of a hard dick with the greeting “Happy Birthday! Now make a wish and blow out the candle!” and a note from Les and Matt to call them when I came in.
I called, and they invited me upstairs for a beer and a little surprise! They didn’t have to invite me twice, and soon I was knocking on their door, anxious for whatever they had planned for me. I could deny them nothing. Matt pulled me inside and gave me a hot French kiss. He unbuttoned my shirt and told me to get comfortable and offered me a brew. Les kissed me even longer and deeper than Matt had done, and I felt his hands move down my back and butt and around to fondle my groin. Matt came behind me and held my arms while Les started rubbing my chest and neck, pushing the sides of my shirt away to expose more of my chest. He continued nuzzling me, forcing another kiss out of me. I couldn’t fight the feeling and pressed my tongue against his. Behind me, Matt had worked my shirt out of my pants and was feeling up my bare back and sides, and then I felt the rings of steel encircle my wrists, and I was cuffed and at their mercy again. A very good Good Neighbor Policy. Matt leaned over my shoulder and kissed Les while the two of them stroked my upper body.
They led me to the couch and stretched me out on it, on my side. My shoes were removed and my ankles were locked in some leather shackles connected by a silver chain. My mouth was gagged with a leather strap that had a dick-shaped plug that went in my mouth and buckled behind my head. While they were tying and gagging me, they told me what a horny pig I was, with my dick hard as a rock as they restrained and abused me.
“You know you want this, Diego,” Les said. “We’ve seen you watching us in the backyard, birthday boy,” he laughed. “I’ll bet you’re whacking your dick every night thinking about it.”
It wasn’t every night, but he was close. Matt sat on the couch by my shackled ankles, rubbing the bottom of my socks and making me moan like crazy into the dick gag. He took one of my nipples between his fingers and squeezed hard. I yelped a loud “MMMMPH!” which seemed to turn them on and me, too. As tight as I was restrained, they made it tighter by attaching some sort of chain to the handcuffs and attaching the other end to the ankle shackles, curling me into a ball. Watching me wiggling and struggling on the couch, Les and Matt pushed me deeper into the cushions and told me to relax while they got my “surprise” ready.
I’d seen calves hogtied at the rodeo while I was growing up, but this was a first for me. One or both of the guys would come back into the room and watch me writhing around on the couch for a few minutes, stroking or pinching various parts of me in the process.
Les came back, without his shirt, and unlocked the chain attaching the handcuffs to the ankle cuffs. Without unlocking the cuffs, he pulled me to my feet and ordered me to follow him up to the attic, where I’d never been before. “You know how to follow orders, don’t you, Sailor Boy,” he taunted.
I hopped and hobbled next to him as he led me up the dusty stairs with a hand on my upper arm. In the attic, Matt was naked and gagged with a leather strap but not tied up. They took off the cuffs but quickly pulled my hands in front of me and tied my wrists with some white rope. “Hands up,” Les ordered, and I lifted my arms to the sky. They moved me carefully towards a specific spot on the floor, looking up as they moved me which made me look up. A metal bar or pipe was hanging from the ceiling, connected to a ceiling rafter by a couple of chains about a foot long. Gagged Matt stood on a chair and pulled the end of the rope binding my hands up and around the bar, tying it there tight and pulling my body taut.
Les whistled at my body and stroked it some more, then without much comment they both slid my pants and underwear down and around my ankles, letting my dick swing free and proud even if I was still a bit nervous. If that was my first birthday gift, the next was a leather dog collar that went around my neck and fastened with a small gold colored padlock. This was followed by a cockring that went tightly around my dick and balls, and then a chain was fastened to metal rings on the collar and cockring, which ran down the center of my torso, connecting them.
The guys stood back and admired their handiwork. Les removed Matt’s leather gag and kissed him hard, then he turned him around and roped his wrists behind him. Matt knelt down in front of me and took the tip of my dick in his mouth, licking the crown and literally fondling my balls with his tongue. I was tied and gagged and helpless, watching a tied up man making love to my dick! The feeling was wild and almost impossible to describe. I twisted around with my hands bound over my head and my gagged mouth moaning for more as Matt took my dick into his mouth and as Les watched and jerked off his own dick. Les would put a hand on Matt’s head and shoulders or on my naked skin, rubbing and stroking. It was like the three of us got into the same rhythm, with Matt pumping hard, me responding and thrusting my joint into his mouth and Les steering the ship.
Matt’s mouth was incredibly talented. He did things to my balls and the underside of my dick that no one had ever done in my previous sexual experiences, male and female. Matt pumped away until I let out a groan and came in his mouth. This was before the days of safe sex. He swallowed every drop and licked around for more, sticking the tip of his tongue into the slit of my dick. It was the best birthday gift I’d ever received!
Less than a year later, I was transferred from Whidbey, but I spent many happy weekends while I was there being tied up by Les and Matt and learning more and more about my deep and glorious passion for bondage, and for being a bondage slave. We still keep in touch but I haven’t seen them in a few years. Who knows, maybe they read Bound & Gagged, too. I’m still in the military and still, sadly, in the closet. It’s something I’m not proud of. But I am proud to be with my bondage brothers whenever possible and I’m proud to share my story with you.
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