A Full Day With Sparky

A year ago, back when I had just started this blog I had a chance to play with SparkySea. It was damn fun.  (You can read about that visit in this blog entry.)  It was a short but intense session and I got a glimpse of the intensity that is possible with this hot and hunky man.

Over the past year we've chatted, stayed in touch, and made our plans for a return visit.  And this week we were finally able to hook up.  And no short session this time around!  I picked Sparky up at 2:30 in the afternoon.  I got him back to his hotel at 11:30 that night.  Okay, okay....we did go eat dinner and take a little time to digest.  And about 9:15 I told him I either had to kick him out or tie him up.  He opted for the 2nd choice as long as he could wear his full football gear.  WOOF.

Hubby was here for almost all of the play and it was terrific.  "Plays well with others" was a comment I remember from my 2nd grade teacher.  She would have been proud of all three of us.

We covered a lot of ground that day.  The pics verify that!  And you'd best keep an eye on Sparky's blog (one of the very best in blogdom) for a video or two from that 9 hours together.

And if you follow his twitter comments you know he's bragging about the 15 pounds we hung off his balls.  Hubby is pouting and demanding a rematch.

 (In the pic above you can see the bucket we hung from Sparky's balls.  Filled it with weights and water to equal 15 pounds.  He claims he could have taken more.)

All Snowed In

Guess we'll have to think of something else to do.

A New Workout Regime

Workout involves stretching balls. Hubby's, not mine.


Baseline: 11 pounds.

The Power of Three, Part II

Another really wonderful thing about working as a threesome is when I get to top the Top. Hubby is great helper and I reward him frequently with balls, cock, tits, and asshole to lick and chew and slurp.

Rick has top skills like you wouldn't believe. You should be so lucky to experience them. But he's also got this pretty big bondagepig buried inside that I get to let loose (yes, bondage will set you free!) once in a while.

First time I've tried a straitjacket over a straitjacket over a neoprene suit. I like that combination a lot!

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?

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.

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.

Practice Session

I am SO stoked to have the opportunity to tie up both the hubby and boy/pup tomorrow. This will be "homage to Domasan" Day. Both pup and I have chatted with him about this and he has been the coolest guy and the most marvelous gentleman about our venture. (Just to remind you.....I assigned both hubby and pup to find a portrait of Domasan's that was their big "turn-on" and I would do my best to sort of replicate it. At best, think kindergartner painting a Rembrandt.....sigh)

Those little fuckers picked tough poses.....and I've been studying, magnifying, and trying to work out some new techniques..... And then I took a deep breath. I can't possible duplicate the work of a Master of rope art like Domasan. All I can be is me. (besides I cant' afford the red rope yet!....lol)

So this afternoon was just JUST a practice session but DAMN if it didn't turn out to be a lot of fun. Hubby, who most definitely is NOT in to gear got super turned on by the red loin cloth. And, lo and behold, I began to really realize the idea of rope for both bondage and support. This harness and the connections to the chains was so cool. And hubby had the 2nd screaming orgasm in as many days. Yum.

Trying to Learn

I get that whole "life is a journey" thing. Really, I do. I know that I've got a lot to learn, that I'm no "expert", that I have taken some of the most scenic detours in life, detours that have been treacherous, boring, and sometimes rewarding. Nonetheless, it feels like right now I'm on the main highway and speeding along in my journey. A few bumps, a few potholes, but for the most part it feels like the top is down, the wind is blowing through my non-existent hair, and there are no semis in front of me!

And I'm the idjit that is studying pics of rope bondage, not for dick growth, but for trying to understand the art, and see if the pic will reveal the secrets of really good stuff! Hubby, the ever patient, ever loving man-of-my-life, is always ready for me to try out the new stuff. And so we did. With amazing results. I love these pics. (okay, critics out there, ignore the right side of his body where I fucked up the zig-zag between arm and chain). And with his butt, penis, balls, and tits fully exposed......well, fuck it if the battery on the camera didn't die!

The Pole

Quite a few men have commented on the pole that gets used quite a bit in my bondage photos. We actually have three of these structural columns in our loft. Two of them are a full fourteen feet tall and have wonderful egg and dart designs at the top. A simple hitching post ring about 7 feet off the ground makes a great anchor point for countless activities!








The main column in the main living space is where most of the action seems to end up. It makes a great built in tool for bondage and works especially well for flogging. (There is nothing worse than trying to flog someone in a room with a low ceiling!).