This is one of the previously unpublished bondage letter submissions I found recently, which is less a story than an account of the writer's dawning awareness as a child of his love of bondage. I love this kind of piece, which touches on things so deep down inside us. At the end of the letter, which I received in November, 1992, the writer had apologized for his imperfect English, which was hardly necessary. I have always loved receiving letters from writers for whom English is a second or third language. Where necessary, with just a little tweaking, I can usually make what they say intelligible. And writing about bondage thoughts and experiences has nothing to do with the writing, but everything to do with the speaker and his bondage sensibilities, wherever and in whichever language they happened.
QUEBEC, CANADA (11-3-92). I am fifty years old now. When a youngster I often used to read American comics (translated in French in our local newspapers). One of these was “Buck Rogers in the XXVth Century” (or something of the sort). I was 9 or 10. I remember clearly some of the scenes (it is like seeing them again very clearly).
In one of these, a villain (convicted as a traitor) was to be sent away in a spaceship. The sentence had been determined by his co-villains themselves. The guy was sealed in a very small transparent sphere made of a kind of synthetic material. With just a tiny lighted bulb and some fresh air, he was sent alone to eventually perish far in dark space.
