Who Knew?

I'm gonna be on the road for a while. So no new blog posts for at least a week. And no dirty pics in this one either. But maybe that's good. Uh, not the part about no new pics.

Life gives us opportunities to step back and think and ponder. I think I need one of those!

See you in a week or so! If you came here to masturbate, sorry. If you're interested in what love might be about, read on. There will be a quiz one week from tomorrow.

I'm an idiot. I admit it.

My downstairs neighbor proved it on one hand. He's a computer whiz and during his visit on Saturday helped clean up my computer. Look, I know how to turn the damn thing on, and do all kinds of neat tricks with it. But take care of the beast? No way.

He asks, "When was the last time you did the disk defrag?"

Now the only thing I know that has the word "frag" in it is Fraggle Rock. And I don't really know what that is even.

So he does that little dohickey on my computer. Then he starts looking at my processes that engage on start up. "Do you speak or write Japanese?"

"Uh, no." (The computer is a second-hand unit I bought recently.)

"Well then, I guess we don't need these Japanese translators to engage every time your computer starts-up."

He's rolling his eyes. I'm thinking of the old Saturday Night Live skits with Nick Burns screaming "MOVE!" Is it any coincidence that my neighbor's name is Nick? I think not.

He speaks in gigabytes. I think in XTube slowness.

He googles every last thing. Types in "what is dpi793.exe for?" He deletes like 6000 things from the computer. I feel ashamed. It's like standing in front of the Doctor naked. And him telling me for the 12,000th time...."You really need to lose 20 pounds."

As Nick says, there is not a single question in this world that somebody else hasn't asked, and 4000 experts haven't answered. The basic philosophy is: "We don't need to reinvent the wheel, just fix the damn flat and get on with the trip." Or as hubby likes to say: "It doesn't matter how the jackass and cart got in the ditch. We just need to get 'em out."

I told you I was an idiot. But I'm getting better. Okay, so not with the computer, but with truly connecting with the people in my life. On what matters.

It would be foolish to think hubby and I haven't had struggles as we've navigated our very open relationship for the past 25 years. It has been a little intense more recently as he's seen me grow very attached to the pup. Hubby has been an amazing man as always and has worked hard to deal with some pretty raw feelings.

So I'm hunting on the internet for help. One link leads to another and all of a sudden I see this word "compersion". And I head for the google search!!!! (thank you Nick Burns......)

Lo and behold, no wheel reinventing, and a pathway for the jackass and cart. Oooops, wait! I don't mean hubby is a jackass!!!!!!

This article appears (click here for link to this and other articles):

A crazy little thing called...

By Eric Francis

For Valentine's Day, I have a word for you: "Compersion." It's probably not a word you've ever heard.

Compersion begins the first time we are turned on by someone else's pleasure, or the idea of someone else's love for anyone besides us. You may think this is totally out-to-lunch. But for some people it's totally natural. There are those who are not the "jealous type," and then there are those who just love love, no matter who's it is. We all know it's possible. We may have an idea of how good it would feel to dissolve into the safety, freedom and unconditional acceptance of our lovers and all that they are, including the other people that they may love, and how great it would feel to let them experience all that we are, including the other people we may love.

This way of being is called compersion.

We've all found ourselves in a corresponding reality at one time or another: trapped by love. Loving someone, feeling open and real with them and sensing it could last forever, and then, mysteriously, another soul enters the scene of our lives, conversations develop, minds meet, sexual interests may grow...we know that there's not really a conflict, or that there should not be one...but there is, or seems to be...and we are left with a huge question of what to do, because our present partner will probably just freak out if we tell them about our experience. And the contradiction is that the experience of this new person is so good. It is so real. And yet it threatens to destabilize what we call love.

When informed that love is growing with someone outside of a primary relationship, most people are, at first, unlikely to respond with compersion. They may not quite be washed over with joy and tell you that your love for this other person is thoroughly beautiful. Usually, at first, people respond with fear -- usually, the fear of loss of control. And it's that control that we are called upon to give up when we embrace compersion.

If what I hear is true, then a lot of people reading this are already getting nervous. The idea of allowing our partner to be free may seem like a wild concept, the last thing we would ever do. Visions of this person, our very lover, in another person's arms, can burn through us like hot coals. But more to the point, the whole idea of really feeling our feelings without denial or resistance is a daring thing in itself. For so much of what we call love is really about resistance, and hiding who we are, and possessing the other and hence ignoring their reality, and judging ourselves for being imperfect because we are so controlling. Hardly what you could call the divine light of freedom. But many people feel that freedom is dangerous.

Now, relationships are complicated enough without adding other people to the equation. Yet these other people seem to somehow add themselves. We notice them in this insanely isolated, fragmented world we live in, especially so because the way we create our relationships is extremely isolating, in a time in history in which we so desperately need community. So when people we really like show up in our jobs and in our email boxes and move into apartments next door, when we pick up on their scent and want to include them in our lives, it's not something we typically want to resist or hide from the world. It's something to celebrate.

Having noticed reality, we may feel a need to keep going, to keep exploring. We need to allow ourselves to be free. And this will take work. We need to teach people to love us for who we are. We need to learn compersion for others -- to feel and express the love that loves them for who they are. This is not as hard as it sounds. And taking the journey is all the more appealing if we realize that all the fear and insecurity that emerged when a second love interest entered the picture were already there all along, a kind of festering toxin we were living with in a secret shadow world that always seemed to haunt the relationship. When the light is brought in, and the toxins are purged, and we are seen for who we are, we can really begin living.

So one thing you can count on, if you are in a situation where you need to teach another person compersion, is that they may relate to the fact that it's better to be alive than dead. And the only way they can love you is when they are alive. That means really free. Really understanding and aware and loving you, not an image they have of you. And you need to learn to love them, not an image you have of them. It is tricky. It is challenging. But it is possible.



Compersion is an idea that emerged from something called the "polyamorous" culture, a segment of society in which people openly choose to have more than one committed lover. In such arrangements, it obviously becomes necessary to work through jealousy, but in the early days of the polyamorous movement, something else was discovered: once jealousy was understood and hearts opened, great feelings of warmth, pleasure and appreciation became available at the idea of peoples' partners loving others. In other words, the bliss of love and sexual ecstasy would expand in a wave-like ripple. When people drop their guard and just feel, so much pleasure is possible -- more than we ever imagined.

Sure, other stuff comes up, but it was already there, and it's as though love is washing it out of us so that we can really be free. And that other stuff -- resentment, anger, fear of abandonment, and the rest -- all needs to come up in order to give the relationship a chance to have life. Swept under the rug, these things are far more damaging.

Growing through them is a process. It's relatively easy to get turned on witnessing another human being's ecstasy or erotic joy. It's a lot more challenging to live with the implications this experience seems to have in our relationships, and is part of the delicate walk of negotiating our sense of security in the universe. We don't want to lose this other person who is so dear to us, whether we lose them to another person, or because they can't deal with their fear of losing us.

Love, as we often define it, is usually considered to be an exclusive rather than inclusive game. Someone loves you and therefore doesn't love anyone else. But when you add it up, this usually comes out to a loss, because in our short visits to the planet, in a healthy state of mind, we might want to love everyone who is righteous and true, and to return the love of everyone who touches our hearts, and call that safety and nothing else. For living in the constant fear of loss and betrayal is hardly safety; it is hardly the security we say we seek; it is a setup for total paranoia, but strangely, sadly, it's called love.

And as for sex -- it's no big secret that we're turned on by many people. But it's only been the "moral high ground" of certain, let's say, social movements, that has instigated the idea anything but strict heterosexual monogamy and sex for reproduction only is permissible. In this world, do we need to live by these ancient codes? Well, not if we are honest.

It is true that if one's lover has sex with another person, or even gets close to another person, they may choose to be with that person and not you. And this is a possibility we have to face no matter what. Living the way of compersion brings this to the surface where we can see it and work with it.

Yet remember that more often, jealousy has nothing to do with one's partner actually having sex or sharing love outside the relationship. It is about the imagined fear of loss. We can become jealous at the mere idea or suspicion of this, or at our partner's fantasies, and even at the love shared with him or herself. In plenty of relationships people stop masturbating (and creating art or music or writing or taking long walks in the woods) because it's perceived as a threat by their partner. And that is not life.

Compersion takes us to the next realm beyond. It is about being with and appreciating our partners for their desires, dreams, wishes and their personal journey to selflove. It's about being real, and having relationships as real people.



And how do we get there?

Start by telling the truth. This is what we need anyway. Sharing this truth we possess in our hearts, the essence of our being, is supposedly why we got involved with this other person in the first place. It's important to tell the truth gently, clearly and without the fear or the intention of hurting the other person, but not holding back, either. Then, because we are claiming the birthright of love, we must love them through their reactions and responses. This is a commitment it's best to go into the situation with. And we must love ourselves through their reactions, which is to say, not feeling guilty about who we are. So listen carefully, and let your partner own his or her feelings.

We must be ready to put love -- real love, which I am calling compersion -- above any given relationship. So we must, on one level, be ready to let go of those relationships in which we cannot be free, if what we seek is the freedom to be who we are. This does not hold just for sex and affection; it holds for those walks in the woods and those paintings that never get painted and the short stories that never get written. It has to do with not living where we want and not following all our other dreams. It is all part of the same thing, and it never ceases to amaze me to what extent sexual freedom parallels all these other freedoms. And freedom means that change is possible; freedom by definition implies change.

In the context of a close relationship where these matters arise, it's important to stay focused on selflove. Selflove is the basis of all love anyway. If the process of your relationship is moving toward compersion, what you may notice is that sex with your primary partner was never hotter. Aware of the potential for change, we tend to appreciate what we have ever more. So enjoy these enhanced experiences, and don't expect them to end as long as you're really being honest, because honesty leads to intimacy and intimacy is a good doorway to erotic passion.

But selflove is an extraordinarily powerful tool in this process. I suggest you masturbate together, one at a time, without touching. This will assist greatly when both partners are willing to work through a jealous crisis because it creates a very clear picture that the other is sexually independent of us. And it is a fairly easy vision of sexual independence to see the beauty in. Let your erotic energy and that of your partner wash away the fear, the discord, the pain and the insecurity of what you once called love.

Feel, if you can, how how erotic a jealous experience can be. When you are feeling jealous, swim into the core of the experience. Encourage your partner to do the same. Help them if you can. Right inside the jealous episode is a fiery core of erotic passion. It may surprise you how good it feels, and if you get there, you can be sure you're stepping right into compersion.

Last -- or actually first -- ask for help. Talk to understanding friends who you know will not encourage you to lie about your feelings, or judge you for being honest. But if you are on a spiritual path, ask your inner teacher for help. Whether you call this teacher the Goddess, God, the Holy Spirit, angels or by any other name, the only way spiritual agency responds is if we open the door. The movement from jealousy to compersion is one of the most direct spiritual paths there is, because we are learning so much of what spiritual programs attempt to teach: unconditional love, surrender, forgiveness, freedom, safety, and, most important, loving the way Spirit loves us: equally with everyone else. Loving this way may be the only spiritual lesson there is.

We know we live in a harshly moralistic society which serves to deny creativity, love and pleasure at every turn. The very fact of being willing and daring to explore another person's sexual responses, ideas, desires, feelings and realities is a challenge to this morality and control. To do so outside the bounds of a one-on-one relationship is even more daring, but, it seems, for many people, to be an inevitability.++

Hotlanta Rubber

Terrific Day! Coffee with the downstairs pervert after he brought his hunky A/C guy through to get to the roof. A/C company is ClimateMasters, a company I'd recommended to him. No clue why I picked them or why their named popped out of the Yellow Pages.

Then off to a barbecue at the Eagle with pup. A little pup playtime and naptime. And then we got the neighbor back up and had a fun time playing "dress-up." Talked 'em both into putting on the rubber podsuit. Yeah. Really took a lot of coercion. LOL.

Then pup got to wear the full rubber catsuit, and eventually his DevilDog hood, and the locking leather mitts while I drug him around the Eagle. Oh! And I swear to God I'm letting that boy buy all my lottery tickets from now on. He won the big gift basket filled with pervy little toys they raffled off last night. Now the funny thing is he won like a 6 year supply of lube. And he hates lube.

Met a lot of super rubbermen last night, including a surprise appearance by Ruff from Chicago. Was a real pleasure to meet someone who has been blogging for such a long time and been such a great resource for the leather and rubber community.

And kudos to the guys at Hotlanta Rubber for throwing such a great party. pupNitro, Daddy Alan, and all the rest put some huge efforts into making this successful.

We hobbled home pretty early. I'm afraid that pup has joined my status of herniated disc. We've been hoping for over 3 weeks that it was just a pulled muscle. But the MRI is scheduled. We'll cross our fingers.

So now I'm looking around at all the ruin in this house. Ugh. Gotta Clean. And I miss hubby.

And I know you all are gonna draw a bad conclusion. You think I miss him because I could get him to do the clean-up. Nope. I just miss our morning coffee, first hug of the day, laughing about the previous days events, processing our lives, planning our next playtime, and yeah, getting him to fold the towels.

Hal Ketchum - 5 O'Clock World

Love this guy's version. Totally

FINALLY!!!

Whooped up on hubby last night. His last endorphin ride for 8 days as he's off to visit the folks. I have been paddling this boy's ass for years now and nary a mark is left the next day. Damn that thick Cajun-alligator hide on his butt. So last night we get in a really good flogging. He's flying high as a kite. And I offer a little paddling on top of the dose he's riding.

Off I go to get the rubber strap. Nasty, noisy intense little thing.

We can only go 5 strokes at a time with this baby. He can't even make 4 of the 5 before he's collapsing to the floor. Somehow he recovers, I offer another 5 and little piggy is back in the position to accept. Again, we make it to 4 and he collapses. This pattern went on for quite some time......and finally. This morning. He gets to carry his badges of honor to Louisiana with him. Hope he thinks of me for the entire 10 hour drive......

First pic is right cheek....a good red strap mark, two small bruises.
Second pic is left cheek, a good solid bruise!

New Sex Toy?

Met a friend of a friend recently for a little bondage time. He's nervous, hubby is nervous, I'm a little nervous.

Have a few toys on the table along with some items I'd bought at Home Depot that day. You know, the shopping list is always the same: rope, eye hooks, carabiner clips, light bulbs, fertilizer.

So new guy gets stripped to his underwear and eyes the bottle of Miracle-Gro on the table. "Um, what's the Miracle-Gro for?"

"House plants," I respond.

Then I realize that with the bottle mixed among the toys his mind must have been really tripping!

The Selection

I'm still working SirTom. Promise! But this little gem got to burning inside me. Felt good to navigate away from the guys at the porn factory for a bit! Hope you enjoy.

The Selection

he's been a good boy for the last two weeks. Today has been the epitome of at least showing a change in behavior. I still worry that those changes haven't become ingrained, but good training takes time, and the boy deserves a reward, a positive reinforcement for his efforts. Dinner is completely his effort, from planning the menu, shopping, cooking, to serving Me throughout. I enjoy My meal immensely. he cleans up the table and kitchen quickly and quietly. he lights My cigar and kneels next to Me holding the ashtray, his head bowed appropriately.

***

Two weeks ago he'd completely stepped over the line, showing complete disrespect for Me. I'd invited two friends over.. We were to have dinner then spend a little time in our dungeon. Just Me and the friends. No boy. boy had shown his displeasure from the outset. he'd banged pots and pans while making dinner, begrudgingly served the dinner, and banged pots and pans in the kitchen while cleaning up. his little passive-aggressive pouting embarrassed Me in front of My friends. I saw them making quick glances at each other throughout the dinner.

Halfway through the cleanup I left the table, encouraging My friends to go ahead down to the dungeon. I went to the kitchen and grabbed the boy by the collar. Continuing his disrepect he left his hands dangling at his sides and had the audacity to look Me in the eye without permission. "This is totally unacceptable," I'd told him. In a whiny, childlike, hip-to-one-side motion, he continued his defiance. "Why?" became a 6 syllable excruciating sound exhaled from his pouting lips.

I'd wanted to slap him. I didn't. I'd whispered slowly and clearly, "Please leave the kitchen. Get in your cage in My bedroom. Padlock the door shut. Chain your collar to the ceiling of the cage so that you are unable to lie down. Think through the events of this evening and work out where My displeasure arises from. I will check in on you later."

***

Tonight he's a different boy, or at least I think he is. He's more focused, more attentive, and yes, more submissive. Is he acting the role, or living his calling? I can't be sure.

"Dinner was excellent, boy."

"Thank you, Sir."

I see a small shiver in his neck. The boy is pleased by My comment.

"Is the kitchen clean, boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do I need to inspect, boy?"

"If Sir wishes."

"I believe boy."

I see the shiver again, slightly larger, traveling down his naked body.

"boy should go to the dungeon and wait for Me."

There's a tremor in his head. I know he wants to look up at Me. He doesn't move.

"Why does boy not follow My orders immediately?"

he takes a long time to answer. "boy doesn't believe he has earned this yet, Sir. what boy did was so bad he wouldn't blame Sir for never forgiving boy."

There is sincerity in his voice. His chin never lifts. I can see a quiver in his body. boy is near tears. I lift his chin. boy's eyes are still cast downward.

"boy should go to the dungeon. Select one item. One. Place it on the table. Then kneel in the middle of the dungeon and wait for Me. Sir will reward boy by using that one item on boy."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

boy leaves the dining room and heads for the dungeon. I give him plenty of time to make his selection, and to kneel, waiting for Me. I savor the cigar, and I think back to how W/we met.

***

MasterRon introduced us at the leather bar. He'd called Me and asked Me to show up that night. Said He wanted to introduce Me to someone special. That night the boy was wearing tight, ragged denims, tight white t-shirt, and cheap boots bought from the local Army surplus store. his hair was a crappy style a lot of younger guys were wearing. he was clearly a fire-cracker ready to explode. And totally unfocused. The boy eyed Me up and down and clearly liked what he saw. But there was a huge load of defiance in him. The boy took off shortly after the introduction, drawn by the possibility that better things existed for him elsewhere in the bar.

"he's a handful." MasterRon chuckled. "I thought you might like to take a crack at him."

"he is indeed a challenge. What's his story?"

"New to town. No real family. Works at a Jiffy Lube. Is here almost every night. I played with him a couple of times, but I've got no room in my schedule for another boy. Especially a boy who needs that much training."

"And you thought of Me?"

MasterRon snorted, "And No One else."

I'd recently removed the collar from a boy who needed to move on in his life. MasterRon knew my cage was empty. Later that night I felt the boy in the background, looking Me over. He finally made eye contact with Me and I motioned him over to where I stood.

"Tired of looking around?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you should come home with Me. And that could have happened three hours ago. But you had to look for that one guy who might be just a bit bigger or better than Me. Don't ever waste My time again. Do you understand?"

There was a flare in his eyes. Defiance mixed with testosterone. He clumsily bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Sir." The apology lacked an ounce of sincerity. The kid was horny and playing a game to get what he wanted. "Where's your car, boy?"

"No car. I walked."

"Let's go. You'll ride with Me."

***

I go upstairs and remove my boots and Levis putting on a harness and tall boots. I check the mirror. It is what I do that makes Me who I am, I remind myself. I wonder what the boy will have chosen as his one item for play this evening. A paddle? A flogger? A hood? The electro? The fucking machine? W/we've used them all. he's loved them all.

I go down to the dungeon. boy is kneeling in the center of the room, head bowed. I can see a smudge of wetness on his cheek. his dick is rigid.

"Has boy been playing with himself?"

"No, Sir." I believe him.

"Has boy masturbated once in the past two weeks?"

"No, Sir."

"Does boy believe that Sir has boy's best interests at heart?"

he does not answer immediately. Then, in a whisper, "Completely, Sir."

I walk to the table to see what the boy has chosen for Me to use. There in the center of the table is a simple glove. The left glove only. A policeman's wrist length glove. Light, supple, well-broken in. I am astounded at the boy's choice. he has made a selection well beyond what his training would suggest. My mind floods with the possibilities of how I might use it.

I walk to the boy, his head still bowed. "Is boy sure of his selection?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

Again he shivers, alive from the praise I've given sincerely.

I dangle the glove in front of his nose. "Smell, boy."

he takes a deep breath and I see his dick bounce a bit.

***

That first night together I flogged him mercilessly. I tied him to the St. Andrew's cross, gagged him, and flogged him to within an inch of his life. he screamed through the gag. I'd offered no safe words to him. he'd asked for none. The entire time, without ever touching it, his cock was rock hard, long strings of precum dripping to the dungeon floor. When I knew he'd gone over the edge of the cliff I stopped. I rubbed my hands gently on his back, slowly bringing him back to the here and now. And he shot his load. Without My ever touching his dick.

***

I slowly pull on the glove where I know that he can see Me doing it. he is transfixed. Hypnotized. his breathing is ragged. I see the first of his beautiful precum strings slowly drip from his boycock.

***

After cumming I let the boy free and held him in My arms. he sobbed uncontrollably. I knew it wasn't from the flogging, but the release of the real boy within. I took him to My bed and held him close. I asked simple questions about his life. he offered long stories in response. W/we talked until late morning, then fell asleep, him curled beside Me.

That afternoon I took him to the apartment he shared with some low-life. he packed up his few possessions and moved in with Me. That night I presented him with a contract. It was simple and straightforward. I would offer him the best training any potential boy might wish for. I would not abuse him. he would contribute as best he could to the household expenses. he would stop going to the bar unless he was with Me. he was to continue working. he would save money. he would perform household duties. he would perform sexual duties. he would trust me to give him the education he needed. he could void the contract at anytime and would be free to go.

It was a three month contract. he signed it. And training began.

***

I step behind the boy and slowly cover his mouth and nose with My gloved left hand. he breathes deeply through My spread fingers, inhaling the rich leather smell. It is his last breath for 30 seconds as I close my fingers and pinch his nostrils. Only at the very end do I feel a little struggle in him. his dick has grown even harder. More precum is puddling on the floor.

I pull the boy to his feet. he keeps his head down, his arms rigid behind him, high above his waist, completely submissive, completely comfortable in this position.

I run my left hand over his smooth torso inspecting the muscle growth he has gained while with Me. Cutting the alcohol from his diet has made him lean and strong. his skin is pliable and clear of blemishes. I feed him well and he eats like a horse. he dives into his new workout regiment without complaint and continually pushes himself to achieve more.

I grasp his right nipple and begin to toy with it between my leather-covered thumb and forefinger. It becomes taut. I move to his left nipple and repeat the process.

"I will pierce these soon, boy. Yes?"

"It would be an honor to have them pierced for You, Sir."

I move My left hand down his chest and over his abs. I carefully circumvent his dick and bring my gloved hand to his balls. It is cool in the dungeon and they are high and tight. I cup them allowing the warmth of the leather glove to relax them. I begin to stretch them, the leather gloved hand tight around them. he does not flinch.

***

Breaking the boy was the hardest thing I'd ever done. he had no clue what discipline was. he was out of control and spiraling downward, seemingly happy in that path. After three days his ass was black and blue from the paddlings I'd given him. he sassed me, fought me, argued with me, disobeyed me, and constantly challenged My decisions. he shirked his house-cleaning duties and was frequently late coming home from work. he spoke without being given permission, and expressed his dismay at not having sex multiple times a day. he told me he usually jerked off at least three times a day and that his sex life was a helluva lot better before he'd met me. he hung upside down from the ceiling for an hour for that comment.

After a week I presented him with the signed contract and told him I would be happy to tear it up if that was what he wished. he would be free to go.

***

I touch the tip of his dick gathering precum on the middle finger of My left hand. The leather is slimy and covered in his rich, salty juice. I place the finger to his lips. he does not move.

"Lick."

he needs no further encouragement. his tongue flicks quickly over the finger tasting his own precum mixed with the leather.

"Suck."

he devours My finger, hungry for it, and desperate to please Me.

***

The boy shook uncontrollably, as if he'd been plunged naked into a snowdrift, looking at the contract, then Me. he gulped air trying to hold back tears and muttered something I couldn't hear.

"Speak up, boy," I told him.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"I hate that phrase, boy, and you know it. Get honest. With Me and yourself. Either you want this or you don't. Either you trust Me or you don't."

"I trust You, Sir. I want this, Sir."

***

I pull the leathered finger from his mouth. I run My hand over his smooth head, first shaved the night he told Me he trusted me. With My left hand on his neck, cradling it, I pull him forward to My own left nipple.

"Lick."

The boy licks with a vengeance. I growl at the feeling of his tongue on Me. I revel in the fact that this once selfish boy, who saw himself as the center of the sexual universe, can now find satisfaction in serving My sexual needs. I guide the boy's head to My other nipple. he waits for the command.

"Lick."

The boy never wavers. He is totally focused on Me. When I growl or moan at the pleasure he brings Me, he takes a huge breath and dives into My furry chest with renewed vigor.

I pull a chair over to the center of the dungeon and sit. "Over My knee, boy."

boy does not hesitate. With hands still behind his back he places himself over My knee, his exposed ass in the air. he's learned to balance, perched precariously on tiptoe.

"Why does Sir spank boy?" I ask.

"To remind boy of his place. To punish boy when he has been bad or disobeyed Sir. To remind boy how much Sir cares for boy."

"Good boy."

***

We started over. This time around the boy took his training seriously. He progressed quickly and I rewarded him liberally. Too liberally, I wondered?

I structured his day down to the last minute. I taught him to see his cage as a refuge. I gave him books about BDSM to read. I quizzed him on his understanding of those resources I gave him permission to speak freely to Me each day, asking questions about the training, about his role, about his future. I made him study for his work so that he could advance beyond the simple tasks he was doing. I gave him 30 minutes a day on the computer to write in a journal. I allowed him a password on the document so that he could have that bit of privacy. I set his physical regiment. I taught him to cook. I shaved him. I collared him. W/we ceremoniously burned all his clothes except for his work uniforms. And I taught him to see sexuality as giving, not taking. He developed a hunger for My cock. He frequently went to his cage having not cum, but happy that I had rewarded him with My load. I could see happiness in his eye when he left for work. I could see greater happiness when he came home.

***

Using my left hand I caress the boy's smooth cheeks. I begin the process of a slow, erotic spanking. I stay far away from major pain levels. Still, the boy is squirming in My lap. I chuckle to Myself. This squirm is not from pain, but because with each smack I can feel his boycock rubbing against My left thigh. He will not last long, having not cum for two weeks.

***

I asked him to explain his horrid behavior toward My guests. he replied only that it would never happen again. he stoically accepted the savage beating I gave him for ruining the evening. he dove into his work and his duties. But I feared I had somehow snuffed out a little light inside him. That had never been My goal. I vowed to slowly rebuild him, allowing him to rebuild himself.

***

he's breathing hard now. I know he's close to cumming.

"Stand up, boy."

he hops to his feet, quickly assuming his submissive stance. I walk behind him and whisper in his ear, "you have pleased Me greatly. I want you to cum for Me, boy."

I reach around and grasp his dick with My leathered hand. I apply ever-increasing pressure and slowly begin to stroke. In no time the boy is gasping for air. I turn him toward the full length mirror on the wall.

"Lift your chin, boy. I want you to watch Me stroke you. I want you to know I care for you. I want you to see that in My eyes, boy."

I resume the slow stroking, staring at the boy in mirror. His eyes are focused on Mine. I see them begin to roll back in his head. I know he's on the point of shooting.

"Stay with Me, boy. Focus. Give your cum to Me, boy."

his eyes come back in focus. he is quivering all over. he is crying it is so painful. he explodes.


***

I allow him to sleep with me again. In the morning I awake to find him curled up clutching the hair on my chest. he opens his eyes, looks into Mine, blushes and lowers his chin.

"I have three questions, boy."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Why did you behave so badly when My friends came for dinner?"

"i was afraid, Sir. i was afraid that you didn't need me in Your life, that i was just a 'project' for You."

"Is that all?"

"i knew my contract was up soon, tomorrow in fact, and felt that You would be sure not to renew it."

I take time to absorb his answers.

"Why select the glove, boy?"

"So that i would be close to You, Sir, at least one more time, so that i would feel Your hand on me."

"I have one more question, boy."

"That would make four questions, Sir."

I laugh. "'Is that all?' doesn't count, smartass."

I feel his smile buried in my chest.

"Yes, Sir."

"What say you and I go make breakfast and then work on a new contract after W/we're done?"

"Yes, Sir!"

I smack his slightly pink buttocks and realize I am still wearing the leather glove.

A Mission

I think I'm on a mission. At least maybe it's turning in to one. I'm not sure I consciously started out on one.

I have been so intrigued by a variety of work by various ropeMasters that I've wanted to truly learn the varieties of ways that rope will bind, cradle, caress, clothe, subdue, suspend, and transport a man.

And on that mission it's important to me to work with men and boys who seek to have those journeys wherein the rope becomes their second skin. A real rope bottom knows how much patience he must have. He also knows how intimacy will grow over the time it takes to slowly cover and eventually bind his body. And he knows if he breathes, truly submits, and accepts the rope completely he has the opportunity to get way inside his own head. By giving up control he has the chance for release, from this world and from the symbolic bondage of his life. To be the guide in another man's journey--to have helped create that path? Whoa. That's some heavy shit.

Look, don't get me wrong. I admire a good wrangler who can take you from free man to complete hogtie in 5.4 seconds, or a "kidnapper" who can wrestle you into a chair and have you pleading through a bandana gag before you have a chance to say "I'll pay the ransom!" Trust me. I like to play too!

I also admire the "purists" who insist on hemp only, who only work on bodies of Adonis, who photograph their work as if was going in to a coffee table art book. Clothing on? Cool. Clothing off? That's cool too.

Sure. I plan some. I think about who's getting tied up. What parts of their bodies intrigue me? Do I want to do something standing? Sitting? On the bed? One man? Two men? More?

Once upon a time I was an artist. I dabbled in drawing and painting. I plodded for a long time in music. And I found a home in theatre. I acted, I directed, I designed, I wrote, and I taught. Hell, I even choreographed a couple of times! I was a pretty damn good craftsman, and a few times I actually created art. Trust me, there's a HUGE difference. And I burned out and turned my back on it.

Every element of our "kink" world, though, has given me the opportunity to take those skills and passions learned in my previous lifetime and put them to better use by far. It's no coincidence in my mind that we use the word "scene" to describe our encounters! We costume, we create dungeon-like settings, we work on lighting our sets, we develop "characters" and roles, maybe even write some dialogue, and places like Mr. S and Home Depot have 6 million "props" for a scene.

And this can be enough for "a good time was had by all."

But on occasion, like art, it can transcend that. Right after meeting bootbrushpup in a chat room and sharing some thoughts with each other, my guru-pup wrote:

"There is something profound in the ebb and flow between a Master and His boy - their shared weaving of Dominance and submission, of His power and the boy's service - when both players consciously give themselves to that exchange, it can transform them both, and truly elevate their play to art - or maybe even an act of worship...

Shibari and rope-bondage in particular can open that space: it takes time and focus to tie - to compose the intricate web that will both bind the boy and hold him safe. And that is time for the Bond to deepen and transcend mere 'sex'...

There is discipline in the tying - and in being tied; a sharing of the work in making art... There is no sound but the burr of rope against rope - and of your breathing falling into rhythm with each other... And with each knot and weave the boy can feel the Master's growing control of His body - and willingly surrenders to His power - he can feel the Master's gaze, the Mastery in His hands as it transmits itself into the rope..."



I don't think I have the strength of soul to make that journey time after time after time. But once in a while it happens. When the stars align. But I'm on a mission: To move from craftsman to artist. Along the pathway I'm having the time of my life.

To read bootbrushpup's complete blog entry click here.

SirTom Enterprises, Part XII

Outside the door was the operator of the B&B. “I just thought you should know that a car has been waiting for you outside for the last hour. They’re illegally parked and the driver is getting a little annoyed waiting for you.”

“Can you do me a favor and tell the driver we won’t be able to go. And apologize for me for wasting his time. Tell him I tried to call to let them know I wouldn’t be able to go out tonight.”

The B&B operator harrumphed and swished a bit before taking off to talk to the driver of the limo waiting outside. I went back to the phone.

“SirTom? You still there?”

“Alan. Thank goodness. Listen to Me and listen carefully. I can’t explain fully over the phone, but it is very important that you NEVER meet privately with one of our clients unless it is arranged by Me and only then if you agree to it. We have one client who has tried this type of clandestine arrangement before, and I have strong feelings that this client is not 100% reliable in his motives. I thought I had made Myself quite clear with this client, but perhaps not. For now I want you to err on the side of caution. For Me.”

“Yes, SirTom. But quite honestly, you’re sort of scaring me.”

“Good. Fear is healthy. I’ve arranged for a car for you to have access to for the rest of your visit. The driver is a bodyguard I have used on other occasions.” I started to laugh. “What’s so funny, Alan?”

“I just had the B&B owner tell him to take off. I thought it was the driver that the client had sent to pick me up.”

SirTom chuckled. “My guess is that Ricky, the driver and bodyguard, wasn’t convinced. He’ll still be out there I promise. He gets paid well by me and takes his orders from me. Now listen. You two go have a good time, but stick close to each other and don’t try to send Ricky off again. I’ll do some more investigation based on the information you left in your message, and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

Ed was still blissfully asleep on the bed, the deprivation part of the hood clearly working quite effectively. I rummaged through dresser drawers where I’d seen him stash some of the gear he’d brought with him and found a couple of locking leather wrist cuffs that would work quite well. A few short pieces of rope would also work well for me.

I tied four pieces of rope to the bed, one at each leg of the frame, and then slowly slipped the rope over Ed’s feet, not pulling them tight yet, not wanting to wake him up yet. I carefully straddled his chest and placed the locking cuffs on his wrists. By now he was waking up and beginning to struggle a bit. He was way too late. A quick yank on the ropes and he was completely spread eagle on the bed. I heard some muffled groans from under the hood, and felt his dick growing very hard trapped under my groin.

I leaned forward and licked his right nipple, a sweet little nub, then switched to the left one. I heard more groans through the thick leather hood and redoubled my efforts adding an occasional slight bite of the very tip. Ed arched his back, trying to throw me off his chest. He had no leverage to complete this task and I responded by biting each nipple very hard. Like me, his dick completely betrayed him, with copious amounts of precum dripping heavily from the tip.

I got off the bed and headed to the bathroom and the dresser where I found what I wanted, a little ice in a washcloth and the steel chastity tube. I returned to the bed and placed the freezing washcloth on Ed’s dripping dick, rewarded with a shriek from under the hood. After a few minutes of applied pressure Ed’s dick slowly lost its rock hard status and I was able to slip on the metal tube of the chastity device, a tube that kept his dick pointed straight down. I locked it in place and removed the deprivation hood from Ed.

“I told you I’d get even,” chuckling at his dilemma.

“I think you’re way ahead by now, oh evil one.”

“I’m going to let you loose and we’re going to shower, then spend another night on the town. A car is waiting for us! So no arguments. I’ve hidden the key to your chastity and nothing is going to get the hiding place out of me!”

“Oh yes, my evil one. Your wish is my command! Now let me loose!”

We showered and I made Ed dress in a tight pair of rubber jeans which revealed the chastity device quite nicely. This, along with a rubber uniform shirt and his knee high boots made him quite the vision. I put on a great pair of leather breeches I’d bought many years ago, a latex tank top and my leather jacket and we were ready to go.

As we were exiting the B&B operator told me how he’d try to get the driver to go but hadn’t accomplished it. I thanked him for his effort and said it had been my mistake. I could see him flush a bit as he looked over our gear choices for the night. “I hope you two have a great time tonight. Maybe I’ll see you later. Where are you two headed?”

“I’m thinking Chaps, then maybe the Eagle or Powerhouse. How about you?”

“I was thinking about heading to Blow Buddies when I get off at midnight. It’s bondage night. A lot of voyeurs, but there’s a few of us who are pretty serious players. You look like you might fit that last category.”

“Ed and I will talk it over. Maybe we’ll see you there. You’re Thomas, right?”

“That’s right. Blow Buddies gets cranking pretty hard by 1:00 and sometimes goes until dawn. I really hope I get to see you guys there.”

Outside, as promised, stood Ricky standing next to a Lincoln towncar. Ricky was a hot Latino body builder, dressed in tight black trousers and a black spandex t-shirt. He hurried around to open the door for us, took a small backpack from Ed, and Ed looked funny at me as we slid into the back seat.

“I’ll explain everything on the way to the bar.” Traffic was heavy and I had pretty much filled Ed in on everything as we pulled in front of Chaps.

“Guess our red flag instincts were right. C’mon, you owe me a beer for that near-rape from earlier.”

“My mama always told me you can’t rape the willing,” I laughed and followed this playful pup/man/boy into the crowded bar.

SirTom Enterprises, Part XI

The next morning I didn’t wake up until Ed began to unlock, unlace, and unzip the hood I’d worn all night. Somewhere in the middle of the night he’d been kind enough to undo the sock bondage on my wrists. He was such a pup in the bed as he finally pulled the hood off me. “C’mon! Get up! We’re in San Francisco for godsake! Time’s wasting!”

“I assume you have coffee for me,” I muttered as I stumbled to the bathroom.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK,” I screamed from behind the bathroom door.

Ed rushed in, expecting to find me dead on the floor. Instead he found me peering into the mirror. “Look at my face! I have hood face! Holy shit! I can’t go out like this!” The seams in the leather hood had made a deep tattoo all across my face and the rest of my shaved hood. A full 8 hours in it had left deep marks.

Ed slapped my butt. “Take a long shower, put a cold washcloth on your face, and I’ll be a good pup and go get you a very large coffee. You’re going out with me today if I have to drag you in collar and leash.”

An hour later I was looking only slightly strange and, like Ed, quite ready to hit the streets. The air was crisp and we’d worn our leather jackets. It was one of the many things I loved about San Francisco, leather jackets were possible almost 12 months a year. I chuckled as we walked. I was in the mood to stroll, Ed kept racing ahead then racing back to urge me to walk faster. In yet another way I was reminded of his pup energy.

As we walked I kept thinking of the man who’d given me his card at dinner the previous night. And I kept thinking of Ed’s intelligent outlook about men who overlooked him. And I kept thinking of the incredible night I’d spent with SirTom. And inside my pocket was the card that had been handed to me last evening. It simply said “Frank Guthrie” followed by a phone number. We’d reached a CD store and Ed was dying to go inside. I sent him in alone and found a low curb where I could stretch out.

Not sure what was drawing me, I took out my cell phone and dialed the number on the engraved card. The phone rang 4 times and I was about to hang up when the voice I’d only heard for a few words last night answered.

“Alan! I’m so glad you called!”

I was a bit speechless. “I’m sorry, but how do you know my name?”

“Caller ID. Your name came up when you called and I figured with the 770 area code you must be from Atlanta. The number you called is one I rarely give out. Very rarely. It pleases me to no end that you made the call though, boy.”

“Look. I don’t really appreciate being called boy. Especially not by someone I’ve not ever even met.”

“I’m so very sorry you feel that way, Alan. And I apologize. It was silly of me to assume that you always went by that role. And you have to understand, having watched you on the screen in your many magnificent scenes, and having rewatched all of those scenes, well, of course I do know a great deal more about you than you do about me.”

“I’m not even sure why I called. As a courtesy to a client of SirTom Enterprises, I guess. I have to tell you I was a little creeped out when you recognized me last night as that was one of my original fears when I signed on with them.”

“But you know that I have a great deal more to lose than you if any one were to recognize me as a client of that site. So trust me, your secret is quite safe. I assume that you will also respect my privacy relative to this.”

“That goes without saying. I wouldn’t dream of letting anyone know about any client of SirTom’s. But you gave me a card with your name on it. That doesn’t scare you?”

Frank Guthrie chortled. “Frank Guthrie is not my real name. I don’t have a recognizable face as the work I do keeps me out of public view, but my real name I can promise you has appeared in many newspapers day after day. I keep a very low profile, but most of the world would recognize me by name.”

“I see. Well, I want to let you know that I appreciate what you said about being a ‘fan’ of mine. It’s very flattering and I hope that you’ll enjoy the good many scenes coming up, both of me and the rest of the men I work with.” It sounded so “canned” but I was hoping to put up a wall between us, one that was professional, and hopefully leading to closure.

“Alan, I’d like to meet you. Do you think that might be possible this evening?”

So much for those hopes. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that, Mr. Guthrie.” I paused. “Is that what I should call you, Sir?”

He chuckled. “Well, Sir, has a nice ring to it. But for now, yes, Mr. Guthrie will be fine. The restaurant we ate dinner at last night has a private room upstairs. They save it exclusively for me when I’m in town. You would do me a great honor to join me. Just to talk, to savor a nice meal together. Say yes, Alan, it would be a little dream come true for me.”

My brain was spinning. But nothing was coming out of my mouth.

“I’d be happy to make a little contribution to SirTom Enterprises if that’s what you’re thinking about. Or I can make that contribution directly to you, if you’d prefer.”

I sputtered, “Oh, no! That’s not it at all! In fact I’d rather you not! I’m fairly new to this as you know. I’m just not sure if it’s ‘protocol’ for us actors to meet with the clients of SirTom.”

“Alan, I admire your integrity. Just another reason I want to meet you. Let’s do this: I’ll have a car call for you at 8:00 tonight. Leave this number with your friend for your own safety. I’ll meet you at the restaurant, we’ll dine, we’ll chat, and I’ll have you back to your hotel no later than 11:00. I would think SirTom would be quite happy to know that you were solidifying a union with one of his original investors and happy clients!”

I gave in. Why not. This man had caught my attention last night. I can’t lie about that. And I really could justify that by having dinner I’d be helping SirTom and the company. I gave “Mr. Guthrie” the address of the B&B and we hung up, him obviously much happier than I about the arrangements.

Ed came out of the CD store, a pretty good sized bag hanging from his hand. “C’mon, old man. I think I better get some food in you and get you home for a nap.”

We ate, we cabbed it back to the B&B, Ed modeled all his new clothing for me, and I let Ed know about Frank Guthrie and the dinner meeting. A crease in his eyebrows appeared as I finished describing the phone call. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“No, I’m not, quite honestly.” Something was “off” about all of this, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “I know it’s harmless, a dinner in public, and it’s a little ego trip for me to have a “fan” want so much to spend time with me. But I’m a little like you…just not sure it’s the right thing to do.”

Ed proved the smarter of us. “Let’s call SirTom. He’ll want to know about this and he’ll have good advice.”

“Once more that good breeding comes through. If I could only learn to think with my brain, rather than my dick.”

I tried calling ST Enterprises, got through to Davey, but he let me know SirTom had left for the day. He’d forward me to voicemail, but also do his best to get hold of SirTom. “How’s it going out there? You guys are having a lot of fun, yes? Oh! And I’m glad you called. The appointment with the metal craftsman has been changed to 1:00 tomorrow afternoon. You have the address. And don’t be on gay-time tomorrow. This guy is VERY hard to get with, but is absolutely the very best at what he does.”

Davey transferred me to SirTom’s voice mail and I left a fairly detailed story of what had occurred with “Frank Guthrie.” I shared with Ed the change in appointments for tomorrow.

“From the sounds of it SirTom wasn’t there.”

“Nope. So I guess I have to make this decision myself. I’m going to call Mr. Guthrie and postpone our meeting until I’ve had a chance to talk with SirTom. I don’t want to offend the client but it’s clear we both have something bothering us about all of this. I believe in red flags and paying heed to them.”

Ed was thrilled with my decision and complimented me on my own clear thinking. “Guess you got some good breeding too! I would love to see what our love-children would turn out to look like.”

I called the number from the card I’d been given so I could break off the dinner date. All I could do was a leave a message as Mr. Guthrie didn’t answer. I took a deep breath to put it all behind me and looked at Ed perched on his chair across the room. Those puppy dog eyes had a glint in them. “Get over here,” I said.

He pounced from the chair over to the bed where I was laying while making the phone call. From under the pillow I pulled the demonic hood I’d bought yesterday. “I think you need to help me break this in. Now turn around. Trust me, you’ll sleep better for our nap, and if you’re really good to me I’ll promise to take it off before we go out tonight!”

I tried calling twice more before 8:00 to let Mr. Guthrie know of the cancellation but each time I got voice mail. I left him my number so that I could apologize and explain person to person, but I never heard back from him. I also checked voice mail several times hoping there’d be a call from SirTom, but no luck. Finally I dozed for a bit cuddled up with the hooded Ed.

At a little after 9:00 that night I woke with a start. There was a pounding at the door and simultaneously my cell phone was ringing. “I’ll be right there!” I hollered at the closed door. Ed was still sound asleep, oblivious to the outside world, safely locked in the thick hood. I grabbed the phone and answered.

“Alan! This is SirTom. I just received your message…..”

“SirTom! I am so glad you called back. Listen someone’s knocking at the door, can you hold on a minute?”

“Alan, NO!” But I’d already laid the phone on the bed and gone to the door to open it.

More Rope

NINE pounds to be exact. When we finished last night hubby realized just how heavy he felt with leather and rope on so he stepped on and off the scale a few times. NINE pounds of rope and FIVE pounds of leather. LOL. (And that doesn't include the rope on the arms or the rope used to suspend him from the chain!)

After spending two hours in a straitjacket with a blindfold on, just to decompress from three nasty days of intense work, the first rope went on. Almost 2 hours later he was completely bound. This was not two hours of intense headspace, mind you. We cracked up, chatted, and played a bit as the rope went on, (I even let him trot off to the bathroom carrying a few unfinished bits of rope with him.) but it really didn't get serious until the arms were strung up and the blindfold went on. It's fun to see that moment, as clear as can be, when we slip from hubbies and best friends to Top/bottom, Daddy/son and he goes way off into piggy world.

This was new territory for me. Using two different colors and sizes of rope in creating the harness was a great challenge. (Reminder to self: leave more slack in the original foundation. Weaving other ropes into the foundation will be a helluva lot easier!) There's things I'll do better next time, but there are huge chunks of this that I'll definitely come back to in future projects. (Other reminder to self: put carabiner clips on the chain above so that the rope holding up the arms stays in place!)

This rope work allowed for a great variety of play opportunities. He was able to lean completely forward totally supported by the rope. In this position tit clamps and a 2 pound weight made his tits really stretched out. As he leaned forward I was also able to beat on his ass. When he'd start to pull away and lean back, lo and behold, his nuts were in my face and I could paddle those! And at that point when he could take no more ball pounding, he'd lean forward and get the painful reminder that his nipples were once again being pulled to the floor.

Equally nice is joining him on the return trip to this planet. He revels in the rope coming off almost as much as he does in it going on. I try to go very slowly making sure the ends of rope slide along his dick and sensitive nipples. Yeah, nasty, I know.

I joked with him when I was finished with the harness, that I should just thrown him in the jeep like this and haul him down to the Eagle. He looked so fucking hot I really did sort of want to show him off. If either of us had felt less tired this easily might have happened. But I also worried he'd get snagged by somebody seeing this hot body in all this rope and I'd never get him back!

The other thing that becomes so painfully clear. I'm a shitty photographer. Sorry.

Sweet

I posted not long ago about men with heart. My apologies for not including everybody I know in that posting. Trust me I know a lot more men who could/should have been included. Wasn't meant as a slight, but as an example of what has been important to me.

Following that blog entry I got inspired for another fuck-fest story so I threw myself at "Room 304". As each chapter got posted here a couple of guys were sending some pretty fast and furious responses. I mean, I'm not getting paid to do this, right? So why write? Cuz it revs my engines. Cuz I still have imagination and creative juices. Cuz nice people say thank you.

I'm as bad as the next guy about writing comments on blogs. But recently I made a resolution to change that. I still don't have much to say about the blog entries that are just random porno shots hoisted from somewhere else on the internet, or the blatant advertising that many of the bloggers are doing for various gear suppliers or pay-per-view sites. More power to 'em but they don't need my comments. But when a guy really puts himself out there, with pics of his own good times, or publishes a story that gets my groin a-stirring, I'm pushing myself to leave a comment thanking the photographer or author for their hard work. Like me, I know they just want an occasional pat on the head in the form of a simple thanks.

And so this blog entry, "Sweet" is dedicated to three of my blog "followers": BootBrushPup who's blog appears here keeps me sane and centered and philosophical with his truly sweet wisdom....a stray pup from NE Atlanta who not only thanks me, but has given me a count on the number of orgasms my stories have given him......LOL. And to Frank, my number one fan from the desert of America. Frank? The sweetest, horniest, HOM/GOM man I've met in a very long time.

And, yes, I know I didn't list everybody this time around. Jeesh. You know I love all you guys!

Room 304, Final Chapter

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Room 304

Chapter 3

Monday morning was almost 36 hours away. I couldn't believe that he would keep me tied up that long. It had to be an idle threat. Hopefully he'd get his rocks off and let me go so I could slink home and rethink my strategies on "kidnapping" businessmen. I was beginning to think whether or not I would ever venture in to this arena again. I felt ropes being untied and could feel the belts on my chest and waist being undone. My arms were pulled quickly to in front of me and relocked deftly. I heard and felt a chain being attached between my wrists and the cuffs around my ankles. I hadn't been given a single second of possible escape time. Clearly Eric had a good deal of experience dealing with bound men.

He lifted me from the chair to a standing position. Arms guided me to turn around and once again he was whispering in my ear, this time from behind. "We're going to get you to the bedroom now. Just follow my instructions. Take small steps and we'll get you there in one piece." He guided me a few steps then instructed me to stop. I heard a door being opened, and again he pushed and instructed me forward. Behind me I heard the door close with the lock being applied. I stood compliant, clearly aware I couldn't escape if I tried. I could feel my chin pressing against the posture collar. My jaw ached from the pressure. I tried to groan. Little or no noise escaped.

I felt Eric walk around to the front of me. The backs of his knuckles brushed my now-tender nipples through the heavily starched shirt. Again, I tried to groan, but I knew just how effective this gag was, having used it on victims many times. "Let's start fresh, shall we? Now I want to know about the plans. Are you ready to tell me?" I tried to grunt. Eric just laughed. "Not yet? Very well. I will have those plans in hand before Monday morning. I might as well have as much fun as possible extracting them from you. Now let's get a good look at what lies beneath all these clothes."

I was hoping that he would try to get me naked. That would require undoing most of the restraints and give me the chance to perhaps turn the tables on him. I figured we were pretty evenly matched in strength. I knew this would be my one big chance to escape and I had to make the most of it. In my right ear I heard a "snick-snick" and then felt my jacket being pulled away from my body. The son-of-a-bitch was cutting off my suit jacket, totally shredding it! He was laughing. "I could practically see the little wheels of your brain turning. The thought that you'd jump me when I undid the restraints. Not a chance. I have my very own briefcase filled with toys, Robert, and this pair of scissors comes in very handy!"

FUCK I thought. How was I supposed to get home? I'd brought no spare clothing with me. And besides while not a great suit, I liked this one a lot and wasn't exactly rolling in money to replace it. I could feel the jacket of my suit being completely whacked off. The vest was next to go. I heard him set the scissors aside. Again he stepped up in front of me as I could feel the warm air he exhaled on my face. A hand grabbed my semi-rigid cock through the thin material of the trousers. I gasped. Once again he whispered in my ear. "I'm going to take the gag out and the collar off now, boy, and this will be your chance to save the rest of your clothing from being removed from you in tatters. Remember. All you have to do is tell me all about the plans and you'll be free to go." The pressure of the gag was released and I heard the locks for the gag and the collar being undone. I worked my jaw slowly and rolled my neck a bit, happy to have that little bit of freedom. I was still blindfolded but extremely grateful to have that infernal gag out of my mouth. His hand went back to my crotch, grabbing my dick. "The plans, Robert. Tell me about the plans."

"They're at my apartment. Just take me there and I'll give them to you." I really didn't know what else to offer. I knew it sounded lame, but maybe, just maybe I could get back to my own turf a free man.

"Really? Well, I've got your keys here, your ID, and I'll just go ahead and run over there and get them. Just where in your apartment might they be? As soon as I have them in hand, I'll come back here and let you free. Of course if you're just offering up a wild goose chase hoping for some time in which to get free, I'll be distinctly unhappy and have to ratchet up the torture to get you to start telling me the truth."

I hung my head. He was 6 steps ahead of me and had been from the minute he contacted me. "I don't know anything about plans. I'm sorry. Just let me go and I'll never tell anything about what happened here."

"Never lie to me, Robert, my boy. Never. Because it makes me unhappy, and it means you'll have to suffer the consequences." Eric grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying across the room. My belt was undone, the clasp of the trousers released and they dropped to my ankles. Once more I could hear the scissors at work and before long I was naked except for my pink and green tie, my over-the-calf socks, and my Italian leather shoes. Eric threw me over the edge of the bed face down leaving my feet dangling in mid air. Roughly he removed my shoes and threw them across the room. And that's when I felt the "thwack" of a wooden paddle on my exposed ass. "OUCH! Jesus! Look Eric, this was fun, but this is going way past what I thought it was gonna be." Before I had the last word out I felt another gag shoved against my mouth. I tried to keep it out but he was too strong. This one wasn't one of mine but I knew it well. It was a monster leather penis gag attached to a huge leather strap that buckled and locked in front. And Eric clearly knew how to buckle it tightly. Seconds later I heard the click of the lock. And once it was in place I felt another "thwack!" I screamed into the gag. Eric leaned in to me and whispered in that frightening gravel of a whisper. "We'll do ten for punishment, for lying to me. How many more is up to you." After ten I was sobbing, my ass on fire. There had been no warm-up, no slight taps, just ten monster hits on both cheeks. He stroked my ass for some time rubbing the pain in deeply, massaging the cheeks so slowly. Once again I felt my dick come to life. I heard him laughing.

I barely caught my breath when I felt a cord being laced over my big toes holding them tightly together. Eric left my socks on for this but had scrunched the sheer material and with one tiny cord had rendered my feet tightly tied. My toes were pulled tightly back and tied, I presumed to a leg of the bed frame. Before I had a chance to figure out what was coming I felt a sharp smack on the arches of my feet. The son-of-a-bitch was using a cane on them! I had never felt such a stinging in my life. I bucked on the bed but had absolutely no leverage and if I moved too much it felt like my big toes were being yanked off my feet. Up and down my feet Eric went with the cane, tapping (most pleasurable I found) to medium hits which I could manage, to cane-whistling strikes that nearly made me pass out from intense pain.

When I was nothing more than a bowl of sobbing jello, Eric finally set the cane aside and undid the cord holding my big toes. As with my ass, he massaged my feet, making the surface pain go deeper in to me, bringing me to a mass of groaning jello with a leaking dick.

He shoved me further on to the bed and climbed on top of me, his powerful thighs pinning me to the bed. He rolled me to my side still under his thighs and the cuffs on my wrists were unlocked from each other. In no time and with only a feeble struggle from me he stretched my arms high over my head and restrained them to the two bed posts. My legs were unlocked from each other and quickly retied to the lower bed posts. I was completely spread-eagled and with almost no room left to move at all. I felt my damn dick bouncing in mid-air. I was so turned on and yet there was that edge of fear that seemed to just enhance the feelings I was having. Once again Eric climbed on top of me, straddling my chest. I could feel the silk of his tie dangling against my chest as leaned in and whispered, "I've found that even tough guys like you will tell me anything when I edge them unmercifully. Let's see how long it takes you before you break. I'm setting the alarm for 3 hours. I'm guessing it won't take half that long before you are a blubbering idiot telling me everything you know."

And the edging began. He removed the blindfold and as my eyes adjusted I could see he was still completely suited. He very slowly and erotically removed that beautiful black and red silk tie. I was mesmerized. He slid down my body and began wrapping it around my cock. The feel of the cool silk was almost enough to make me cum. He was right. I would never last 3 hours. Slowly he began masturbating me using the tie as a cock sheath. I squirmed on the bed, moaned into the gag, totally in his control. I felt a gurgle inside me and my hips bounced on the mattress trying to shove my cock deeper and deeper into the silk. Eric knew I was close to shooting and swiftly removed the tie from my cock leaving it bouncing in the air. His laugh was almost maniacal. "That was only three minutes, Robert. Three minutes of 180 minutes. You have a long way to go!"

He took the tie and tied it around my cock and balls very tightly. Eric reached to the nightstand and squeezed some lube in his right hand. He stroked my cock four or five times and again I thrust my hips taking me right back to the edge of cumming, and immediately he pulled his hand off me. With his left hand he cupped my balls, pulling them down very tightly, and with the back of his right hand he began to smack them. He started alternating smacks with strokes of the cock, 10-12 smacks on the balls, growing in intensity, followed by four or five strokes of my cock. I thought I would go insane. I could feel drool running down the side of my face. I didn't care. I just wanted to shoot my load.

And he stopped completely. I felt myself returning to sanity ever so slowly. My breathing slowed a bit and I felt my dick relax ever so slightly. And in an instant I was back on that edge as Eric grabbed my rod with his left hand and began to polish the tip with the palm of his right hand. I truly thought I would need to break the headboard to get loose or die trying. I had never struggled like this before in my life. And even though he wasn't stroking my dick I felt the surge of cum making it's way through me. I was gasping for air. I knew this time I would cum.

And he stopped. I felt tears running down the side of my face. I heard myself pleading through the leather gag. I would do anything to be relieved. And I heard Eric's laughter as he left the bed, leaving me alone.

I could lift my head just enough to see him across the room removing his suit jacket and vest. Eric was such a handsome man. It just made this whole evening that much more insane. I couldn't believe that such a man would truly hurt me. Still the fear of the situation nagged at me. Eric left the bedroom for a minute but when he came back I felt myself stiffen again. In his hands he held the hood I'd packed for today. It was a thick padded hood with locking belts criss-crossing it and with only a tiny grommet at the mouth for breathing. I knew from experience just how intense it was. I could already feel my breathing tighten in anticipation of having it put on me. I started to struggle on the bed.

Eric came over and roughly slapped my dick. I screamed into the gag. "Hold very still and be very quiet, Robert, or I'll slap your cock until it bleeds. Do you understand?"
I nodded, pleading with him with my eyes, with a whimper into the gag.

He loosened the rope on my ankles a few inches and pushed me further up the mattress so that he'd have more leverage to lift my head and put the hood on. He removed the gag. "Please. I'll tell you anything you want. I'll give you anything you want. I don't know anything about the plans you want. But I'll try to help you find the person who really does know." I was babbling.

He was already sliding the hood over my chin. "Shhhh. I'm sure you'll remember much more in a couple of hours." As if he knew exactly how the hood worked, he quickly and efficiently pulled it over my head, laced it tightly in back, and buckled and locked all the belts. Outside of a tiny hole to breathe through I was totally isolated from the world around me. I felt him slide down the bed, and I felt a tongue begin to lick my nipples. The groans escaping from me filled the padded hood, echoing in my head, and I felt my cock again bouncing in mid air, hoping to have what was now a monster load released.