Bob Wingate's Blog: Eric Tide's Bondage Memoirs

Joshua 7

Three straight nights, Joshua made me strip to my underwear and lay belly down on the living room floor. He hogtied my hands to my ankles and spread a patch of duct tape over my mouth. Then he sat on the sofa resting his bare feet on my back while he rummaged through boxes of bondage stuff taken from my guest bedroom closet. He looked at pictures, read articles ripped from magazines, and examined various bondage items he found.

On the third night, he stumbled across a couple of decks of old playing cards in the bottom of a box and wondered what we used them for.

“Maybe you like to play strip poker?” he said grinning.

The cards figured prominently in my bondage games with Logan and Dylan. On rare occasion, we did play strip poker. The loser often paid a penalty, perhaps taking a good whipping or meeting a dare or serving as slave for a day, besides just being buck naked for a time. The cards served other purposes, which I may address in due time. However, we played one game frequently to my utter delight.

In the game, I would hide a card from the deck. Logan and Dylan would then take me prisoner and torture me until I revealed the identity and location of the card. We set time limits for them to retrieve the card, usually a few hours but sometimes a couple of days. The fun for them was making me suffer. The test for me was enduring it. Often the loser had to pay a predetermined price.

Before he left that third night, Joshua untied me, and I told him about the torture game. He liked the idea. He held out a deck and told me to select a card to hide. Joshua swore that he would force me to give up the card within one week. After he left, I stuck it in the bathroom medicine cabinet behind some bottles.

I could hardly sleep the next few nights hoping he would stop by. You never knew when Joshua would appear. One night I dreamed that he had tied me face down on the bed and fucked me until surrendered the card’s location. I woke up in a cold sweat realizing that could really happen, knowing Joshua. It seemed so real.

Finally, one evening just after dark, I heard his familiar knock on my door. My heart pounded with excitement as I let him in.

Joshua ordered me to strip naked and kneel facing the sofa. He locked my head and hands in the heavy stocks Logan had made years before. Then he locked my feet in a set of foot stocks that Logan had made later. The foot stocks held my feet fixed about shoulder-width apart. They were smaller than the head stocks, being made from two one-by-six boards hinged together rather than by one-by-twelves. Both the head stocks and the foot stocks had small eyes hooks situated around them to accommodate ropes when needed.

Like the head stocks, the foot stocks could be fastened to a fixed stand or used freestyle. Since the stand was stashed somewhere in my garage, Joshua used them freestyle. Besides keeping me uncomfortably immobile, the foot stocks had another tortuous effect. They angled my legs slightly upward so that the tips of my toes dangled just above the floor. It caused my body weight to be supported entirely by my knees, which was painful enough on dirt but unbearable on hard surfaces. The carpet on my living room floor offered little comfort.

Before he began to torture me, Joshua warned me that I was in for a long night. He reminded me that I could end the torture anytime I wanted by giving up the card. I was determined that would happen over my dead body.

Joshua retrieved some items from the guest bedroom bondage closet and laid them on the living room chair. He lifted a thick wooden paddle that Logan and Dylan had used on me often. Joshua swatted me hard three times on the bare ass with painful, popping strokes. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled straight up.

“Don’t slouch!” he said.

He blistered my ass three more times with the paddle and told me to kneel tall, keep my shoulders square, keep my eyes forward, and keep absolutely still. He whacked my ass a few more times until I froze like a statue in the position he demanded. He warned me that I would feel the wood every time I drooped from that posture.

My ass was on fire, and it took everything I had to remain still. Joshua exchanged the paddle for a leather belt. He blistered my back, my ass, my legs, and the soles of my feet with several brutal lashes. Then he draped the belt across my neck.

He ordered me to hold my mouth open and stick out my tongue as far as it would go. He placed a dime in the middle of my tongue, and then he made me hold two more dimes pinched between my forefingers and thumbs. He warned me that I would get ten hard lashes from the belt every time one of the dimes fell.

Joshua sat on the sofa in front of me and switched on the television by remote. Kneeling half an hour in that position was terrible torture in itself. Of all the discomfort, the sharp pain in my knee caps was the worst. Every now and then, noticing the grimaces on my face, Joshua muted the television and offered me a chance to reveal the whereabouts of the card. I ignored him to his utter delight.

I had to keep my mouth open or risk swallowing the dime on my tongue. My mouth quickly became dry as cotton, and swallowing became difficult and painful. In time I could barely feel the coins in my hands, and instinctively I squeezed them tighter to make sure I held them fast. That caused stress and numbness in my fingers.

Joshua clipped two clothespins on my nipples, two on my ball sack, and one underneath the tip of my dick. The jaws were strong and painful. He sat back down and unmuted the television for another half hour. During that time, the stocks on my shoulders grew heavier and heavier as if they were transforming from wood to concrete. I couldn’t hold them steady. Racked with pain in my knees and from the clothespins, I began to grow tired and weak.

Joshua stood up and paddled my ass hard until I returned to a position of his liking. Posture became increasingly difficult to maintain because I was too unsteady. I was under severe duress, and soon the coin on my tongue dropped to the carpet, which thrilled Joshua to no end.

He slid the belt from my neck and scorched my back with ten vicious lashes. During the whipping, both coins fell from my fingers. Joshua paused to let the pain soak in. He offered me another chance to give up the card, but I ignored him. He blistered my back with ten more lashes and then gave me ten more on my feet, five on each sole. He showed no mercy.

He replaced the dime on my tongue. Then he whacked me with the belt five times on the back of each hand. With little but skin covering the bones, the agony was excruciating. It was all I could do to keep the coin from dropping. Then he stuck the dimes between my fingers again and sat back down. Just a couple of minutes later, I was trembling from muscle fatigue. I began to sob but quickly caught myself and bucked up. I should be tougher than that. I had seen far worse torture.

After watching me struggle for a while, Joshua decided to intensify the torture. He squeezed my fingers and toes with pliers. He spread a towel on the floor underneath my balls. He lit a candle and dripped hot wax on my chest, feet, backs of my hands, nipples, and dick. Every time I slouched, I felt the paddle. Several times I dropped one or more of the coins and paid the price. Then he removed the clothespins from my nipples and my dick. Anyone who has ever had that experience knows that removing the pins is far more painful than wearing them.

Joshua sat back down on the sofa and began to fondle my cock and balls with his toes. My dick became so hard that it hurt. Then he stood, dropped his shorts, and let his own full erection tower before my face. His narrow cock curved upward a good ten inches, and I could feel its heat on my face.

He told me to suck it, but I turned my head and said nothing. He pressed the tip against my lips and told me to take it in my mouth, but I fixed my lips tightly and refused.

He didn’t force himself on me, although he easily could have. He began to masturbate, slowly at first, enjoying every stroke. He closed his eyes and pumped harder and faster until finally he shot cum all over my face and head, soaking my hair.

He picked up the towel from the floor and cleaned his dick. He pulled up his shorts and zipped them up. Breathing hard, he sat back on the sofa and rested with his eyes closed for a good while. For a moment, I thought he had gone to sleep. Eventually, he unlocked the stocks and took them off me. That brought sheer relief to my aching neck and shoulders. I unlocked the stocks from my feet and cleaned his cum from my face and hair with the towel.

Joshua headed for the front door. Although at first he had seemed focused on getting the hidden card, for the past hour he had not mentioned it. As he opened the door, I reminded him that I had won the game. I still had the card.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ll find it next time.”

Two nights later, he did just that. And I will never forget the simple, yet exquisite, torture that made me give it up.