Topsy-Turvy: Guest Story!

Topsy-Turvy
A story based on true events
bondageboygreg

(My sincere thanks to bondageboygreg for submitting this story to me. Sounds like he had a helluva good ride! He did NOT submit the necessary photos to document his weekend so I provided a couple that come close to his descriptions! I've already started his "book of punishments")

It was time to do something. Not enough Masters/Tops in a boy/bottom world. At least in these parts. Tired of the same ole, same ole games in the bars and on the internet: Lots of initial interest but little and sometimes disappointing follow through. And tired of traveling far and wide for always unpredictable results. But what to do?

Who knows better what a bottom needs than another bottom? This boy would escape the bottom lament and start teaching another bottom how to top and play for his pleasure! Time for a new, different kind of leatherman. The Bottom Top. No, not just a hesitant or disinterested “switch,” but a bottom who truly finds satisfaction in giving satisfaction to another bottom.

My first pupil was a fellow bondage bottom whom I often commiserated with about the inability to find a good Master/Top when needed, which in my fantasies is several times a week, but realistically, usually once every week or two. What Tops ordinarily call a “pushy bottom” --that is – directing play from the submissive role, would be the means by which “Sir Bottom,” as I came to call my friend, would learn the ropes from me. Sir Bottom would learn to top me and other bottoms by my giving him directions on what to do while doing it to me.

This former 100 per cent bottom, after several months of basic training, moved to a very solid 60/40. He thanked me profusely because he also had become discouraged of finding a good Top from the local scene and would now use his knowledge to help other bottoms too in order to continue to enjoy scratching his strong bottom side. But first a “thank you” for me.

Sir Bottom called me at work one day and ordered me to his condo for a Friday night-Saturday morning scene. He said he wanted to show his appreciation to me and had some surprises in store. With the weekend ahead, and free of obligations for both of us, the formerly passive bottom said to report promptly at 8:00 p.m. to his “dungeon.” Sir Bottom said he was going to put boy in “hood to feet leather encapsulation” and immobilize me. Then he said teasingly, “That’s just for starters!”

I arrived at his place a few minutes late Friday evening because of traffic. When he opened the door he was standing there in leather cap, open leather jacket revealing a harness, leather pants, codpiece and polished black boots. He said “You’re late boy, I told you 8:00 p.m sharp!” He let me in, and in a show of irritation for my tardiness, forcefully closed the door and deadbolted it. He then ordered me to strip off everything right there in his foyer except for my socks, fold my clothes neatly and leave them at the door. Then I was to put on the hood with locking collar, the leather gloves, and the wrist cuffs he had laying at the door. Then I was to kneel and await his orders.

I had to hold back from smiling and acting bemused at my trainee, this former submissive speaking so dominantly. But I answered with the sincerest “Yes Sir!” I could muster, followed orders, stripped and folded my clothes in a neat pile at the door. Then I put on the hood, which had pinhole eyelets, wide-open nose flap, and a half-dollar sized grommet hole at the mouth. I then buckled and locked on the hood’s neck strap making any attempt on my part to get out of the hood impossible. Next there was a pair of tight leather gloves. Finally, I put on the cuffs, which had about a foot length of chain between them and ratcheted them locked. I knelt down and now I was his.

Sir Bottom, sensing I had finished my preparation, ordered me to crawl on all fours into his living room. I did so, the short cuff chain slowing my progress across the room. Through the hood’s pinholes I could see the shadowy figure of Sir sitting in a winged-back chair, he had dimmed his lights very low, had lit several candles around the room and had classical music playing at very low volume in the background. These were touches he obviously added from his own experience with other Tops that he submitted to.

Approaching the chair, he ordered me into a submissive position at his boots for inspection. He ran his leather-gloved hands over my body from head to hole, pausing momentarily at the grommet hole pushing a gloved finger through it for me to suck and test my gag reflex, moving them down to my nips to tweak and gently twist them and then on to my hole to tease it with gloved fingers. He kept repeating “Good boy.” Then then shoved my hooded face into his codpiece and told me to lick it through the mouth grommet and then work down to the end of his boots.

The training worked! I was getting into the spirit of this and my dick was turning harder than it had been in quite some time and dripping from the sheer novelty of being at the mercy of this bottom boy turned ever more convincing Top.

After tongue bathing his boots, Sir Bottom then stood up over me, straddling me with his booted feet and leathered legs and attached a leash to the hood collar. He then ordered me to follow him on all fours. He tugged on the leash and his directional tension on it lead me to his bedroom “dungeon.” He didn’t have black leather sheets, but he did have black linen sheets on his four poster bed and there appeared to be several black leather belts of various lengths hanging over the mattress sides, more candles spread around and a nighttable lamp to see what he needed to do.

He ordered me to get up from all fours and stand up against the side of the bed. He unlocked and removed the cuffs and the leash. The hood remained. He reached into his closet and pulled out something very heavy. The familiar, creaky sound told me it was made of leather. It was a sleepsack. He put it between me and the bed and ordered me to step into its footwell with my still socked feet and use the side of the bed for support. He placed a rubber bad between my legs that ran from my ankles to my knees. Sir then had me put my arms in the inner arm sleeves of the sleepsack. He reminded me that, like the leg between the legs, the pair of tight leather gloves I was wearing would prevent any skin-to-skin contact even between fingers intensifying the sensory deprivation. Again, supporting myself against the bed, he proceeded to fit the sleepsack over my shoulders and pull it together, tightly around the front. The sack had three zippers. One to completely close it, which he did, careful to tuck in my throbbing cock and not let it get caught in the process. No need to expose the cock and balls for now, he said, that would have to wait. He then positioned the other two zippers for such a time when he would expose my cock and balls.

He then lowered me horizontally to the bed, grabbing my feet and centering them and me on the bed and over the belts. He tucked a pillow under my head. He then straddled me, laced the sleepsack’s drawstrings through the rings, cinched it tight and snapped closed the collar button around the neck. Sir then proceeded to fasten the several previously positioned belts on the bed snugly around the sleepsack,but not too tight to cause any ciruclation problems or annoying pressure points. He then got off the bed and clipped on four chains from the base of the bed’s four posts to four D-rings, two at the shoulders and two at the feet of the sleepsack. I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

When he was finished Sir climbed back on the bed and straddled me and shimmied his crotch forward to my hood’s grommet hole and pressed the head of his dick against it. “Lick it clean boy,” he demanded. I did my best to get tongue through the grommet hole on his cock’s head and could taste his pre-cum. I felt him move back away and he stretched himself over me. I next felt his tongue through the grommet hole and I embraced it with my lips. “Comfy boy?”, he asked. “Yes Sir,” I responded. “Too warm or hot in there boy? he asked. No, Sir, very comfortable. Thank you Sir.” I said. “Is this goodnight Sir?” I asked. Big mistake.

Sir laughed and said “Hardly boy.” Sir Bottom was far from finished. He slipped a blindfold over the pinhole eyelets of the hood leaving me totally encapsulated in the leather blackness.

Then I felt Sir zip open the two opposing cock zippers and pull out my still hard cock and balls. I felt them being placed into something like a wet cock ring and ball stretcher. Then I felt a tingle, then a stronger one, then a “ZAP” and then another, and another and another in gatlein gun fashion, each on increasingly sharper then the one before as I began to moan and fight against the pain and against my bonds. I began to work up a sweat. Then the electro stopped just as abruptly as it begun. “Just wanted you to cook and stew a little, boy, in order to bond with your leather cocoon “. He was right, I could feel the sweat and the leather mixing to form a slippery lubricant, especially inside the hood, that made the leather mold to my skin and seem more a part of me.

Sir removed the tens unit electro rings and snapped into place a combination leather cock strap and ball stretcher. He tucked the package back in the sack and closed the zipper. Now, I thought to myself, he’ll leave me in my leather cocoon for the night. Wrong! Next he did something I didn’t expect. What I was to learn later was, he put a pair of noise reducing earphones over my ears. For now they were connected to a lapel I-pod clipped to the sleepsack playing ambient pathways music - music to have bondage by. Later, the music would finish and the noise limiting capability would filter out all but the loudest of noises. Nice touch I thought to myself within my dark, leather world.

And here came the biggest surprise of all. During our training sessions, Sir Bottom had learned during our months of training that I had difficulties keeping my sinuses clear through long bondage immobilizations due to allergies. It sometimes cut short what was otherwise planned as an all-nighter. He removed the noise limiting earphones for a moment and explained to me he had a solution to my stuffy nose woes. I felt something going over the open nose area of the hood and a harness of some kind going over my head. I then felt a rush of room temperature air filling my nose. Sir Bottom ordered me to part my lips inside the hood. A rush of air came out through the grommet hole. “Good, it’s working” he said with enthusiasm in his voice. He somehow came into possession of what is called a “C-pap machine” a medical device used by those who suffer from sleep apnea. This version had a mask that fits over the nose only and was held in place by a head harness. It blows pressurized air into the nostrils to keep both the nose and the throat open for easy breathing. The added bonus is it has a filter, which filters out the allergens and particulates that cause nighttime stuffiness.

This wasn’t “breath control.” It was a solution that would allow for long-term, comfortable breathing through a night of bondage without worry about one’s nostrils plugging up and causing panic or worse. And if it were to stop working, the grommet hole the size of a half-dollar still afforded mouth breathing. He mentioned he had another c-pap airhose that we didn’t try this night, one that he fitted to allow the introduction of an occasional hit of poppers to make things even more interesting if desired.

As Sir Bottom began to replace the earphones he announced with finality: “Now you’re ready to take your all-night cocoon trip boy! I’m going out in the living room for awhile, but there’s a monitor here on the nightstand…grunt and holler for me if you need me. I’ll be back later. Good Night.”

I’ve always felt sleepsacks were a misnomer. Especially when fully hooded and blindfolded, they are hard to stay asleep in for long periods of time. But now I felt like I’ve never felt before in a sleepsack. Comfortably encased, and breathing so very easily with the c-pap providing clean, pure air.

I was finally alone in my dark, sensory deprivation cocoon. I couldn’t see anything but blackness. I couldn’t hear anything except the bondage music through the earphones (which would be turned off, I learned, in a couple of hours leaving me in total hearing deprivation). I couldn’t even smell anything because the machine was filtering out all odors. And I could only feel the barest of sensations being hooded, gloved, socked and encased in leather

When cocooned, I usually concentrate on the rhythm of my breathing and sometimes count down from 100 to 1 to help put myself into subspace. I did both those things and slowly started floating away. Some time later I dozed off more quickly than usual. I woke briefly at one point sensing Sir’s return and comforting closeness as he climbed into bed alongside of me, rubbing the hood so I knew he was there and slinging a leg over my sacked body.

I don’t know when it happened as one loses track of time when cocooned, but I did wake up once again with significant phlegm in my throat and began to cough. Sir Bottom was right there alongside me as promised and as I had taught him to be for a helpless bondage bottom. He removed the c-pap mask and the quick release D rings on the sleepsack’s shoulders to raise my head up and helped me clear my throat and expel the phlegm through the grommet hole. He gave me a significant drink of water by straw through the grommet hole to replenish loss of fluids because of the sweating. He was correct about the filtering capabilities of the c-pap machine. While the mask was off, a strong rush of mixed, intoxicating, erotic leather aroma entered my nostrils. When he put the mask back on, the aroma disappeared..

I settled back down again for the rest of the night drifting back and forth between subspace and sleep. I woke up once more thinking it must be dawn for I was getting that urge to get out…you know, it’s not bondage till you want out! I began testing the limits of my mobility and testing the inescapablity of my leather prison by pressing against it in every possible way, wanting to get out, but not really wanting to get out.

After what seemed hours after that, (later I learned it was around 7:00 a.m.) Sir stirred me. He removed the earphones and said the ride was over and it was time for HIM to get HIS reward! (The truth is that after a night of immobilized frustration, when Sir gets what HE wants, boy is going to get what he wants too!) He unattached me from the c-pap machine, removed the blindfold, and released me from the sleepsack. He removed the hood, now wet with sweat, from my head and replaced it with a head harness and snap-on blindfold. He permitted me to piss into a large soft drink cup to relieve myself. The cock strap restricted the flow just enough to make me feel the resistance. My night of sensory deprivation had made me so compliant that I would have drunk it if ordered to Fortunately, he didn’t try to make me drink it!

He then spread-eagled me back on the bed nude with four leather restraints, attaching them to the chains, and began attaching clothespins to my nipples, ten across each side and up and down my outstretched inner arms. He then did something I had specifically trained him to do for me, which I find particularly erotic. He threaded a cat gut shoelace from knee-high boots around my chest a couple times around, and tightened and tied it over the clothespins in a fashion that pressed the ends of the biting clothespins down FLAT on my chest, increasing the intensity of the bite on the nipples. This really turns me on!

He straddled me and took my cock and balls behind him in one hand, which had been ringed and stretched all night, and began to sqeeze massage and roll them. He then made me take his cock in my mouth and work it long, the thrusting growing moment by moment. His weight occasionally came down on the already pressed down clothespins, which turned my nips into an inferno. He used his other hand to pinch my nostrils shut for a mild breath control, After working his cock long and hard he groaned loudly, removed his cock from my mouth, and shot his load over my face and chest. He then brought me to a fierce, explosive release.

The clothepins needed to come off now…one by one…I cried out and strained against my bonds as each released pin gave a jolt of pain, adding to the afterglow of thousands of endorphins already running through my system.

“Good boy,” he said one last time. We laid there together for some time, Sir Bottom spooning me and gently rubbing down my inflamed nips and chest with a cool cloth.

We arose, showered, dressed, breakfasted and discussed the highlights of the scene and things we could improve on. Then it was time for me to return home and get some “genuine sleep” for the rest of the weekend ahead.

On the drive home I couldn’t believe what I had experienced at the hands of another bottom. To think all this started with the idea of turning fellow bondage bottoms into serviceable Tops for one another! What had I created?