Bob Wingate's Blog

Squeaker's Story

The Canadian correspondent who wrote me about his week in chastity, has now followed up with this piece about his first meeting with the Master who required it of him. 

 

I’m Squeaker and was given that nickname when I joined the BDSM community in Vancouver ages ago. Wearing leather and rubber became more and more my lifestyle choice (apart from clothes for my day job) and friends can tell I’m approaching by the squeaking sound my gear makes. That’s always satisfying, and I love the way skin-tight black gear looks on my body. My Viking looks, the bald head, red beard and copious amount of body hair that poke out of my garments give me a certain look folks admire. I also possess piercing blue eyes, have a “winning” smile and a laugh that’s quite infectious in a crowd.

 

But course I don’t just wear fetish clothes for the looks or the compliments. I wear black leather (or rubber) as a badge of honour, as black is a well-known power colour. Being a Leo I crave attention and also need to satisfy my deep sexual needs. The only problem is that I’m more passive than I look. That makes it easy to mistake me for a Sir when secretly I yearn for a domineering husky top to take me home, bind me tight, and have his way with me for hours (or days) on end. I crave being used and abused and owned by anyone who’d care to take me in, so long as I don’t receive any permanent marks (my only stipulation).

 

Last year I visited Montreal for the first time and found a great leather bar on Ste. Catherine street. Being a newbie made me attract plenty of attention from the locals. One rugged, tall, lean man dressed in head-to-toe leather complete with knee-high boots came over to me. He saw right through me and immediately chatted me up. “So, Boy, you’re from back West?” he growled. I told him I’d just arrived and was at the bar for a drink and to get my bearings. “You got a place to sleep?” he asked. I told him I might stay overnight at the sauna down the street. “Fuck that, you’re coming home to my place.”

Tennessee Master

Here’s a never-before-published story that came in (handwritten) in March, 2005, three months before Bound & Gagged suspended publication:

 

TENNESSEE. Recently you talked about traveling long distances to get tied up. Here’s a story for you.

 

First, something about myself. I am sixty years old, five feet six inches tall and weigh 150 pounds, brown hair beginning to gray at the temples and an eight-inch very fat cock.

 

I live in the middle of 18 ½ wooded acres in the hills of East Tennessee. But only ten miles from a city of sixty thousand, so I have the best of both worlds. The house is located over two thousand feet from the road. The driveway is so steep that a portion had to be concreted so cars could make it up the hill. Most of it, however, is just gravel.

 

Now to my story.

 

Somehow, through the wonders of the “gay grapevine,” this guy heard I was a top who could be trusted.

 

One night about twelve, he called.

 

His conversation was very articulate. All his answers were certainly forthright and with all the proper “Sirs” or “Masters.”

 

It turned out he and I lived about 80 miles apart.

 

After at least a forty-five minute conversation, we worked out a weekend that we could meet.

 

Even tho I live out in the hills, after leaving the interstate he only had to make four turns. He was told to call from a certain store which is about four miles from my home.

 

On the appointed Friday night he called from home to say he was on his way.

 

When he called from the store as ordered, I told him to get in the car and strip completely. I told him to park his car at the bottom of my driveway (about 12 ft from the road) get out and wait for me on his knees, head bowed.

 

Dressed in black leather chaps, vest, motorcycle cap & cockring & gloves I slowly walked down the drive. In my hands I carried a large iron collar and padlock, a leash, and a Hyatt cocklock. I took my time, giving him time to anticipate the step he had taken.

 

As I approached, I could see that he had minded quite well.

 

I could easily tell he was taller than I, balding, but looked to be in excellent physical condition. I also noticed the flat nipples, that could take some work.

 

I walked up, locked the iron collar on his neck and said “Boots!” He immediately bent down and began to kiss them.

 

As he was doing this I noticed how close the thunderstorm had gotten. The lightning had gotten bright enough for anyone passing to see. Who cared?

 

I had him stand and put on the cocklock as I attached the leash to his collar. I also took the keys to his car and locked it.

 

Just as we began to walk up the hill, it began to rain.

 

We were both getting soaked!

 

I, in my leathers, was still quite comfortable. He, being naked, was getting chilled. On top of that, as I have said, most of the drive is limestone gravel. These are not easy on bare feet if you are accustomed to wearing shoes.

 

He asked (without permission to speak) if we could hurry out of the rain. I ignored this. When we reached the concrete portion I asked if he was cold.

 

Yes sir, was the reply. I told him to kneel down on his knees and pissed on him to warm him up. Not unnoticed was the fact that he opened his mouth when I was pissing on him.

 

As we again reached the gravel he gave some very low groans & “Oh, sirs.” Still he had not been given permission to talk.

 

As we entered the house, I gave him a towel that I keep by the door to dry my dog’s feet. He rubbed himself thoroughly & seemed to warm up.

 

I took him straight to my room, gave him a clean towel & allowed him to dry me & my leather from head to toe.

 

He was spending too much time drying my crotch as my dick was still straight up. A good slap in the face reminded him that he had not earned that yet. Also that he had to be corrected for talking without my permission, etc.

 

My bed is a large wooden bed. I keep ropes on the posts on the headboard and the footboard.

 

First I put a leather hood with blindfold & gag on him. I tied his arms to the footboard posts facing the bed. I tied his legs, stretched just so his cock (still bound) & balls barely hung over the footboard of the bed.

 

What a beautiful sight!

 

It was easy to tell that he worked out (he does) as he stood there, muscles tensed, not knowing what would happen next. But that dick was still hard.

 

Again, I noticed the flat nipples and immediately put some strong tit clamps on them. Then I began a slow & steady placement of clothespins on his body, culminating with about ten on the cock & balls. (These I had previously tied together in strands and left long strings on them. This so I could lie in bed and pull the strings and just torture different parts of his body or even all at once). This certainly brought on some moans and groans, making my dick even harder.

 

The one thing I had failed to mention is what a beautiful ass he has. As I lay there playing games on his body I could hardly force myself to wait to plow that ass. I restrained myself for about forty five minutes as I continued to pull the strings.

 

His body was covered with sweat by now.

 

I got up & went behind him. My head reached his shoulders. I began to slowly remove the clothespins. First one here, then one there, each time brushing the others and creating a bit more pain from each one.

 

Then having removed the others, I started to move the ones on his cock & balls.

 

This brought about some loud groans and an attempt to move away. Impossible. I jerked the rest off & rubbed his cock & balls vigorously. Man, did he squirm!

 

I untied his arms & feet, took off the hood & told him to undress me. I still had on my boots & leathers. This he did very carefully, and even tho my cock was right in his face when he removed my boots, he dared not touch it.

 

I finally allowed him to lick my pits, suck my tits & eventually lick my balls & attempt to suck my dick. Even tho he tried, he could only get the head in his mouth (I did say it was quite fat!)

 

I could wait no longer.

 

I laid him on his back, lifted his legs & rammed it home. He was tight and he did scream. I left it there, crammed in to the pubes, as his eyes teared a little & he took deep breaths to try to relax. Then I began to fuck him.

 

Even when horny, I can hold back if I try. I fucked his ass for over forty five minutes as I pulled his tit clamps, the hair on his chest and slapped his locked balls & dick around.

 

Unable to stand it any longer I came & came. As I pulled out he said, “Thank you daddy, thank you.”

 

I tied his arms to his sides so he could not play with himself & allowed him to sleep in my bed.

 

I awakened about four and fucked him again, then went to sleep with my cock up his ass.

 

Morning came early, another fuck & time to get up.

 

He had not slept well because of the collar. He was a little slow at moving so I gave him ten with a belt. Again his dick rose to the occasion.

 

As I ate my breakfast, he had his piss toasties (corn flakes, piss & a little sugar) on the floor with his hands tied behind his back. Fun to watch!

 

I decided we should go for a walk.  After the rain it was cool but not cold. I donned my leathers, put on his leash & off we went. I did however have him carry one item. My whip. Five long tails of leather and I know how to use it.

 

There’s one special tree on the property that I love. When a slaveboy lays over and hugs it, his ass is just in place for a good fuck.

 

But to warm him up, I decided to give him fifteen good strokes with the whip. There was that hard dick sticking up in anticipation, both his and mine. I really laid it on his ass, then I fucked him. His leash was a good bridle, and I made it last as long as possible.

 

Lunchtime, I had a sandwich as he again attempted to suck dick. His licking of balls & dick, and really working at it deserved a reward, so I fucked him again.

 

The day was spent with small jobs such as polishing boots, getting his chest shaved, etc.

 

I decided we’d go to the bar.

 

Yes, there are bars even in east Tennessee.

 

He bathed me.

 

He himself got fucked & a nice plug shoved up his ass. I dressed him in a pair of jeans worn threadbare & two sizes too small, a white Tee and boots. Of course, his collar stayed on.

 

We got some looks as we entered the bar. It’s pretty much a college kid candy-ass bar. I bought him a beer. He loves to dance so I put him on the dance floor alone. The cocklock, tight pants & butt plug did their job. His cock looked large & hard as he danced. He got many appreciative looks. When he needed to piss I let him, in his pants, as he stood beside me. Again, this did not go unnoticed. A few friends came over to talk & admire his cock & ass. We left about one o’clock in the morning. By 1:30 we were home.

 

I had him strip in the truck & made him sit on my hand. I drove with one hand & worked the plug in his ass with the other. He was dying to come.

 

He undressed me & I allowed him to eat pits, tits, cock & balls. Then I fucked him again.

 

I awoke at 5:00 and used his ass again. He still was not allowed to come. I told him I had things to do, gave him his car keys and sent him down the drive naked and barefoot.

 

Yes, he called again!

First Bondage Date

The following story, which I have no record of ever having published, came as an email in January, 2000. I wish I had more than this introductory photo to go with it.

 

Five Bondage Positions

 

SOUTH DAKOTA. I work at a small weekly newspaper. I’ve been there 20 years, and I’ve been openly gay from Day One. So are many of my coworkers. One young man named Craig has been there for about six years, and he and I have become close friends. He's in his early thirties, lithe and very muscular, with short-cropped, receding brown hair and a very neat beard. Until recently he was in a serious relationship, so there was no romantic interest between us. But I couldn't help imagining what it would be like to tie him up, and I told him so about a year ago.

Submitting to The Paperboy - 2

I wish I had an illustration for this story. The artist Sean would have done a beautiful job, if only I'd published it back in 1999. Better no photo or illustration at all, than one that won't do the story justice. Use your imagination, guys.

 

The Paperboy
Part 2

 

It was the next Saturday that Rob came to collect, dressed as usual in his arousing, skimpy, too tight outfit and wearing a pair of sweatsocks under his white Converse All Stars. He told me his folks were away for the weekend, and that we were going to have some fun at his house this time.

 

Rob told me that we were going to jog two miles before going to his house, which was only three blocks away. Being a typical hot, muggy summer evening, we worked up quite a sweat by the time we finally got to Rob’s house, where we immediately went downstairs to the basement game room with wet bar. It was a really nice big brick colonial befitting his father’s very successful law practice.

 

Rob went into a small room behind the bag and returned with a gym bag. He opened it and removed a 2" wide dog callar with ½" spikes on the outside and ¼" nubs inside (I wondered where a kid his age acquired his ideas and equipment, but was unaware then that I’d eventually find out) and a pair of handcuffs. The collar was put around my neck with the cuffs placed inside the collar positioned behind my head, and buckled closed.

 

Rob flopped down on a couch, commanded me to kneel down before him and remove his sneaks. I went down to use my teeth to untie the bow and loosen the laces. I placed my chin around the back of each shoe, trapping it between my chin and chest so I could pull each one off. Being in such close proximity to his sweaty, funky-smelling socks and feet from our two-mile jog was a real turn-on that caused my prong to harden and juice precum copiously. The scene proceeded pretty much as that first scene at my house described earlier. We both seemed to enjoy a foot fetish as I eagerly tasted and removed Rob’s socks, then bare feet.

 

Rob clasped his hands behind his head to expose his sweat-soaked armpits. I could smell the ripe smell and was ordered to lap them. Pits are also a fetish of mine (even though his had virtually no hair, as I said before), so I had no qualms about doing them; in fact, I wanted and had to do it! They were delicious.

 

I was directed onto his chest to lick, vacuum and nip at the tit crowns on his chest as they erected to hard little sensitive points. Down his chest to his indented navel, my tongue, teeth and lips did all they could to arouse Rob sexually.

 

He told me to place my head between his muscular, sweaty thighs. The smell of his perspiration, precum, urine and even ass-musk combined to make a stimulating aphrodisiac to me. My own dick was rock-hard and oozing liberally its precum juices tenting out and wetting my shorts. Rob told me to strip off his stretched shorts which I had to do orally as my hands were still cuffed behind my head.

 

My teeth bit into the front of the waistband and pulled down. Rob stood up to afford me access and continuously work all the way around his body with my mouth so my teeth could pull the waistband out over his bulging jock and asscheeks, then down his muscular legs. I finally got them down to the floor so Rob could step out of them.

 

Now my godlike master Rob was standing in front of my kneeling body wearing only his stinking, sweat-sodden, cum- and piss-stained jockstrap. I was getting to the point where I worshipped, idolized and adored this young stud and would do virtually all, if not everything he ordered me to do.

 

He ordered me to strip off the funky jock orally as before, since my hands were unavailable. This being done, Rob ordered me to lie on the floor on my back and spread my legs. He brought over a four-legged barstool from the wet bar and placed it between my legs, with one leg located snugly at the juncture of my legs by my crotch. He lifted up my scrotum so he could jam the leg right up into my crotch.

 

Rob got two shoelaces, tied a slipknot in each, and carefully slipped one “noose” over each of my balls, tightening each so it wouldn’t slip over and off the gonad it was attached to. He took the loose end of each lace and pulled it around the wooden leg of the barstool to stretch and descend each nut separately deeply into its half of my ballsac. The tension (sexual and physical) of this ball-separation and –stretching was incredibly exciting; I was able to raise my head enough to see the shiny, purplish-red skin drawn tightly over my orbs, which really turned me on.

 

My hard dick was throbbing with my heartbeat and was spewing precum in an almost steady stream as it lay flat on my belly pointing to my navel. Rob now got some cord (like from an old Venetian blind), placed my prick upright against the stool leg, tied an end around the base of my tool and the leg of the stool, and proceeded to wind the cord around and around my dick and the leg right up to the bottom of my glans. Now my rigid pole was securely lashed for its full length up along the piece of furniture.

 

Next Rob got a couple of spring-type clothespins which I immediately knew their purpose. He knelt down to suck my nipples to arousal. They were very cooperative, after which he pinched them to inflict additional pleasurable pain, as well as dry them of his saliva prior to his placing a pin on each of my tit-crowns.

 

I then had to sit up so Rob could attach a cord to one of the clothespins, put it around the leg a few times, and then tie it to the second pin. This effectively bound me sitting upright to the barstool and eliminated my ability to back away from it.

 

I watched as Rob walked to the opposite side of the barstool and knelt down. He told me to roll over onto my left side, and as I did so he guided and leaned the barstool onto its side also. Now the stool and I were both positioned on our sides. Rob went back to the storage room and returned with a black dildo about 8" long by 1 ½" diameter with a round base, like a half of a baseball to rest on. He lubed it with KY-jelly, greased my anus with first one, then two, and finally three fingers; positioned its tip at my pucker and shoved it quickly and violently up inside me to its hilt. The initial pain and shock ebbed to a pleasant feeling of penetration and fullness.

 

Rob then assisted me and the stool back to an upright sitting position where the cleverly designed dildo’s round base caused it to constantly move around up in my shitchute and across my prostate with any type of motion on my part. I looked down at the shiny dark glans of my cord-wrapped, trapped penis to see a steady drizzle of precum issue from my gaping piss-slit.

 

I can’t begin to tell you how wildly turned on I was. I was also very curious about how and where Rob might have gotten these ideas—mind you, I certainly wasn’t complaining; I loved them!—as well as how this young a kid had access to and accumulated the equipment such as the dildo. I didn’t know it at that time, but I was eventually going to learn, much to my joy!

 

Now sitting up, he bent my legs at the knees and brought the soles of my feet together facing each other. A shoelace was used to tie my two big toes together, then more laces were used to lash together the rest of my toes. He tied the corresponding toe on one foot to the other foot as well as using “figure eights” to bind them together. Also, the heavier cord was used to tie around my ankles to the leg opposite the one to which my fuckstick was bound.

 

Naked, Rob sat down with his back to me on the stool. He leaned forward to display and spread open his buttocks to expose his asscrack which as usual was not perfectly wiped! Instantly, and without instruction, I immediately knew what was expected of me. I leaned forward to kiss his asscheeks, stick my nose into his musky crack, used my teeth to pull at the tiny “dingleberries” of dried pieces of shit residue caught in the hairs in his asscrack, then finally let the flat top of my tongue lap the length of the crease between his buttocks before stiffening it to probe into his anus, penetrating past the muscle ring of his sphincter and up into his rectal cavern. Yummy!

 

Rob’s hard-on was trapped between his belly and the cushion on the barstool as I continued to minister to his rectum until I felt him stiffen with his sphincter clamping tightly on my tongue. He spasmed 7 or 8 times, and as he raised up off the stool I saw a copious pool of his jizz on the cushion and his stomach.

 

Rob’s dick was still hard as steel despite his recent ejaculation. He turned around to face me and sat down on the barstool with his slimy rigid poker just inches from my face. I dove for it, but was rewarded with a sharp, stinging slap across my face with the admonishment that I was to do absolutely nothing to or for him unless commanded to do so!

 

Now Rob ordered me to tuck his rod under my chin to pull it away from his belly so I could lick the love goo from his first climax drying there. I was then rewarded for my patience when he ordered and allowed me for the very first time in all of our meetings to put my lips around the tip of his manhood. It was still wet with his first outpouring of spooge and was intoxicating. He grabbed the back of my head and slowly lowered it down the entire 7 ½" of his cockshaft until my nose was buried in the hair of his pubes. My throat opened to accommodate and welcome the impalement by the intruding manmeat.

 

My own 6" boner tied to the leg of the barstool and now tightly trapped between my body and the leg was being constantly stimulated in its roped, confined restriction. I was approaching my own orgasm quickly.

 

Simultaneously, Rob started pumping my head up and down on his fuckpole. I felt it get even harder and slightly larger just prior to its exploding another load of cream into my waiting mouth. I swallowed his offering greedily.

 

Within seconds I popped my huge load and pulled back to watch my thick, hot, creamy-white deposit of balljuice flow from my piss-slit and run down over the cord wrapped around my cock. Rob scooped it up and fed my cum to me. Rob and I were both exhausted, but supremely and ultimately satisfied.

 

He also told me that if I really and truly enjoyed what the two of us had done the last few weeks, that he and I could expand on it. That he could introduce me to other neighborhood kids—many of whom I already knew, but would never suspect had the same kinky interests. The group had several secret meeting places; additional, different “toys” and equipment; and further scenes that could be embarked upon. My obvious answer was “yes.” If you’re interested, I’ll write you about them. I found them most arousing and enjoyable.

 

If only I'd read and published this piece at the time. Is it too late, 17 years later, to say that I'm still interested?!—BW

Submitting to The Paperboy - 1

To cut the tension of this last, pre-election weekend, with many of us dreading the world we will wake to Wednesday should the knownothing loudmouth boor of a sexist, racist, bigot win the White House where, as knowitall dictator with an openly homophobic vice president, he will make America Great Again, here's a great American story about more innocent times, when gas prices were low, the sky was blue, and paperboys on three-speed Schwinn bikes tossed newspapers onto green lawns and front porches every morning…

 

I can't believe I didn't read and publish this wonderful piece when I received it, back in 1999. It came from a correspondent I valued highly, who'd already written me several amazing letters describing his pre-pubescent self-bondage and self-abuse adventures, as well as about his early teen-age submission to an older teen master, all letters I had happily published. I would have been thrilled to push other stories aside to publish this one from him. But when I found it a few months ago I had no memory of ever having seen it before, and it's not the kind of story I would have forgotten, speaking as it does to so many of my personal fetishes and fantasies. I'm all the sadder because at the very satisfying end of Part 2 (which I'll post tomorrow) the writer, who self-identified as "essaraitch", offered to write me more on the subject, if I was interested. Take it from me, I would have been interested. If you're still around and reading this, essaraitch, I'm still interested!

 

The writer and I are roughly the same age, and to judge by what happened between him and the paperboy over fifty years ago, I'd say that today's young bondage-lovers, with all their bondage-specific equipment and toys, have nothing on the old-timers, who did the most amazing things to each other with only their lust and imagination for guides.

 

Do any of you, who grew up in seemingly happier times, have your own interesting bondage stories to tell? Or you millennials, if you still remember how to write, and have been tied up at any time in your young lives, do you care to tell me about it? Some of us still read, and for those who read this blog, all bondage stories are interesting. My email: [email protected]. Everything is published anonymously, unless you ask to be identified.

 

 

 

The Paperboy 
Part 1

 

Due to my family’s financial circumstances, I was unable to go to college directly after high school. I decided to get a job and live at home to save money.

 

I got a job at a health club, and during remodeling they let me take home an old set of weights, a treadmill, and a bench which all went in our basement. I used them to good advantage to attain a pretty good physique that both I and other guys admired.

Eric Tide's Bondage Memoirs - Joshua 10, Part 2

 

Chapter 10, Part 2

 

Halloween ranks second to Christmas Eve as my favorite night of the year, though kids roaming door to door seeking candy is practically a memory in my hometown. But years ago, that was not so. On this particular night, the last group of young trick-or-treaters stopped by about eight-thirty. I left my porch light on until nine, then switched it off. I settled down into my comfortable lounge chair to watch a scary movie, one of my treasured traditions.

Eric Tide's Bondage Memoirs - Joshua 10, Part 1

When he first started sending me chapters of his memoir about Joshua, Eric told me he’d be including flashbacks to adolescent slave-time incidents with his friends Logan and Dylan and their cousin Graham. The first time he sent a flashback, I strongly felt it should come after the Joshua section of the chapter, and managed to convince Eric of that. This time the flashback seems more appropriate to me coming first, and not only because Part 2 of this chapter, the Joshua section, happened on Halloween. I’ll post that section on Sunday, which is close enough to the big day.

 

Chapter 10, Part 1
Flashback

I enjoyed when Logan and Dylan’s cousin Graham came to visit, which happened at least one weekend per month when the boys were in high school. Even though he was three years younger, Graham and I had become quite close. One weekend in early spring of my freshman year in college, the four of us pitched our large tent by the big pond near Logan’s house. We camped out often because we loved the outdoors, but more importantly camping provided us with an opportunity to play our bondage games.

 

Bondage Inside the Beltway

From our files of unpublished material. This piece was written by a model we'd photographed three years earlier. Though the pictures don't really go with the actions described below, they're from his modeling session.

 

First let me describe myself, Mike, 44 y.o., and my lover, Pete 48 y.o. I’m 5'11", 150 lbs, 32" waist, short buzz-cut brown hair. I’m very tan with killer speedo tan lines, and I’m quite proud of my tight round bubble butt. I shave my entire body, so I’m smooth as silk. I have a 6½-inch hard cock, cut, and quite thick, tight round smooth balls. I have a frenum piercing on my cock.

 

Pete is 6'1", 160 lbs, 32" waist, longish dirty blonde hair, tight body, hairless chest, nice muscled hard hairy legs. 7-inch hard, cut, thick cock.

Eric Tide's Bondage Memoirs - Joshua 9

Joshua 9

Joshua’s next visit was a bit earlier than usual. He arrived under cover of darkness, but it was early evening. I could tell right away something was different.

Tied in His Union Suit

Another never-before-posted story from many years ago—1988, in fact, which is what it's postmarked. That's almost thirty years ago, and it describes an experience that took place almost 25 years before that, before Stonewall and gay liberation, when few dared even whisper that they were homosexual, and the word "gay" was only beginning to enter the general vocabulary with its current meaning. 

 

August 5, 1988

 

HOLLYWOOD, FL. I have been playing this game for 35 years—and have had a “couple” experiences, if you know what I mean.

Bondage on the Beach

There's bondage and bondage, but as we bid farewell on the east coast to the hot, dry summer of 2016, here's a short little previously unpublished memory piece about one of the coziest types of bondage imaginable, which some may consider even being called bondage a stretch (which may be why I never published it): getting buried immobile in the sand on a beach. Fascinating in this case is that it's not the daddy who's burying his son, but the son who's burying his daddy—on command, of course. The letter was postmarked 9/11/1993.

 

What I Did On My Summer Vacation
An essay written for Daddy by his boy

DALLAS, TX. This summer Daddy decided to take me to the beach and whereas i was looking forward to playing in the sand, sun and surf i think Daddy was anxious to play in the sand, son and surfers. Daddy had heard that Stewart Beach was the place to go for a “family” outing so it had become our destination. i was so excited about seeing the shore after the five hour trip from Dallas that i begged Daddy with promises of cocksucking and tit play to take me to the beach first thing. Daddy drove us by the uncrowded beach pavilion, turned to me with a smile on His mustached face and said, “If I want my cock sucked, son, I don’t need your permission. Now or anytime.”

Bondage in Minnesota - 1989

I'm not sure why I never published this piece, which I received in 1989 from a man who at the time would have been 63 years old (and would be 90 today). I suspect it was because the writer's introduction to bondage, at the age of 16, was at the hands of a much older man—his uncle, in fact—who essentially raped him, even if he himself did initiate the physical action and obviously enjoyed it enough to remain with his uncle voluntarily for the next three years. I've seldom avoided publishing stories of child abuse, unless the experience described was written by the abuser. But if that's wasn't my reason, I can't think of any other for failing to publish this fascinating bondage bio. 

Eric Tide's Bondage Memoirs - Joshua 8

Eric Tide has lived perhaps the most active bondage life of anyone who’s ever written to me. He started sending me his memoirs in 2010, when he described his introduction to bondage at the age of six by a neighbor boy. He went on from there, over the next four and a half years, to recount his experiences in high school as the bdsm slave of his best friend Logan, and Logan’s younger brother Dylan. That particular slave/masters relationship went on for many years, continuing well beyond high school.

 

At a certain point Eric decided he had written enough about Logan and Dylan, and stopped, much to the dismay of many readers. Then, despite my whining and wheedling, he sent me nothing for posting for a year and a half. Finally, early this year, he told me that while he didn’t want to write more about the brothers, he would tell me about another bondage/sm relationship he had had, beginning in his late twenties, with a boy barely out of his teens, named Joshua.

Unpublished Bondage Story

I don't think I ever posted this piece. I found it in the file of possible stories for Alternate Issue 104 (February 2005) but not in my contents for that issue, or any other issue, either. It's a curious story, because one can't help wondering if the writer enjoyed his evening, or if he ever went back for another go-round with Jack. 

 

An Evening at Jack’s

 

I headed over to Jack’s after I got out of work. It was around six in the evening, but the sun was still shining brightly overhead. It was August and the sun was so hot that you could barely see. I had on a blue sleeveless Abercrombie shirt and a pair of jean shorts. Not really work appropriate, but it was so hot. It only took me about fifteen minutes to get to Jack’s house.

Bondage in Catholic Boarding School

Coming upon this wonderful story a few days ago was a real find for me. The story was published in Issue 103 [November 2004] and I'm almost certain I never read it at the time, which is conceivable, since at its time of publication Bound & Gagged was in the good hands of editor Robert Davolt, while I had illness in my family so sometimes only leafed through an issue without actually reading it before sending it to the printer. If I'd read this particular story I know I would have remembered it; it immediately sparked memories for me of reading, in my own teenage years, a lot of which I wasted behind a locked bathroom door, a similar account of Victorian methods of restraining adolescent boys from "accidental" masturbation in their sleep. One of the things I jerked off to a lot in that bathroom was the idea of being strapped down in that very kind of accident-stopping device. 

 

In Issue 103, the story was titled "Trouble in Catholic Boarding School." I prefer the new title below.

 

 

Glimpses of Heaven

 

PHILADELPHIA, PA. When I was sixteen, I spent the year at a Catholic boarding school in the middle of Pennsylvania. I had been hanging out with the wrong crowd back at home in Philadelphia, and my parents were sure that a year away, especially under the watchful eye of Christian Brothers, would do me well. Reluctantly, I agreed.