By Aquala Guy

(Monday, 10 p.m.) I am going to lock on my steel wrist shackles and steel ankle shackles when I get home from work tomorrow night. Once locked they will stay locked until I get up for work on Friday. When I return home on Friday they will get locked back on for the remainder of the weekend. I’ll try to send photos, but my cell phone is my only camera and can be a bit testy at times.

(Tuesday, 8 p.m.) As I promised, I have locked my shackles on as soon as I got home from work. I return to work on Friday at 9:00 AM. The shackles will be removed about 8 AM so I can shower for work. Then when I get home from work they will be locked back on and not removed until I have to return to work on Monday at 3:30 PM.

I made the decision to put my piss slave’s jockstrap on before I locked on my ankle shackles. Now the jock is on to stay until the shackles come off. And I can’t put anything else on, either. If someone was to show up at my door with a piss gag, I’d be pretty hard pressed to stop him from putting it in my mouth.

I did decide to step on the scale before I locked the shackles on, and afterward. I was 240 before … 246.2 after. I figure the 0.2 is my piss slave’s jock.

The photos show my legs spread as wide as I can get them, and my left wrist as far as I can get it from my right hand holding the camera.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

 

 

Journal Entry 1

(Wednesday 5:40 a.m.) I had promised Metalbond that I would put on my locking steel shackles when I got home from work, and wear them for my 2 days off without release, until I had to return to work. I stripped, put on my piss slave’s jock, and locked the shackles on. There is no way I can take my jock off (I can pull it down but I can’t remove it). And there is no way I can put anything else on. Since it was my weekly weigh-in, I had stepped on the scale before I locked them on … then decide to step on again. I gained 6 pounds in 3 minutes.

I took photos of the shackles on my ankles and my left wrist (I couldn’t photograph my right wrist). I sent him the photos, and started to wonder if I had made a dumb decision. It has been a very long time since I’ve worn them, and the feel of cold steel on my skin was not very comfortable. I find myself even questioning why I bought these things.

I had received an email from a guy who was interested in crucifying me (a fantasy I want to live out). We chatted on the phone for almost 4 hours, sharing not only our mutual interest in crucifixion, but his actual experiences. We also discussed other things, but kept coming back to crucifixion. He asked me what he was hearing and I told him about the shackles. We did some more talking and then he had to get some sleep (I’m on my days off). He told me he’d call me again tonight at 10, and asked me to promise that I wouldn’t unlock the shackles before then. (I promised him not to unlock the shackles, but didn’t tell him about my promise to Metalbond). Oddly enough, as I was envisioning him on the cross in his experience, then myself as he described what I could expect, the shackles started feeling comfortable. They started to feel like a part of me, like they belong on me. I suddenly did not want to be let out of them, but rather to have them permanently welded closed, or the locks jimmied so that I could never take them off again.

Of course that’s not feasible (yet). But the steel feels like it just belongs on me. I’ve only been in the shackles about 12 hours, I cannot imagine taking them off. OK, maybe to walk, because that is extremely difficult … but I’m thoroughly enjoying this. I’m enjoying that I have to THINK about almost every maneuver. Dropping the remote control required me to get out of the chair to pick it up because I couldn’t stretch my arm out. Eating and drinking require me to move and use both arms. There’s only a 12 inch gap between wrists, and 18 inches between ankles.

I’m realizing that my thoughts are running amuck, and there’s no sense of continuity. I am thinking that’s OK. My brain is in a million different places. It has been so many years since I formed the Windy City Bondage Club and wore restraints of any kind. The funnest thing is that my dick won’t stay soft! I’ve shot off 3 times since locking up.

I do need to get SOME sleep, so I’ll update the next entry after I get back up. I cannot remember the last time I was in bondage as I slept.

I am imagining how much hotter this would be if there was another man here preventing me from having access to my key for release. (I’ve checked a couple times, there is no restriction of circulation, no loss of sensation, but my ankles ARE showing and feeling a little bit of chafing from walking. Oh well, I guess I’m just going to have to put up with it.)

 

Journal Entry 2

(Wednesday, 1 p.m.) So the phone rang about 4 hours after I went to bed. It was a friend of the guy I sat up with on the phone discussing crucifixion into the wee hours. He woke me at 10:30 AM. We spoke on the phone for an hour and a half, also about some crucifixion but mostly other stuff … getting to know you stuff. He liked the idea that I’m locked in my shackles.

I really didn’t expect them to be comfortable like this. It’s beyond erotic. It’s like wearing a favorite jockstrap. I’m noticing a minor amount of chafing on my left ankle, but I checked, and the skin isn’t even red or broken. That’s the only real discomfort … well that and still getting used to walking.

I had to hold an afghan in front of me to put the dog out for her business. Didn’t think that one through, and nothing I can do about it now. Even though I am my own keyholder, I am really enjoying the “no hope for mercy, no hope for escape” scenario I’m running through my head. If I didn’t have to have a job, I could get real used to being chained up 24/7.

I like the way the weight of the shackles feels … both on my wrists and on my ankles. Difficult but not impossible to jack off, My dick has stayed in a state of semihardness almost the entire time I’ve been chained. I think some of that is due to the crucifixion chats.

I repeated to the new guy who called me this morning that if someone came to my door right now, with me shackled like this, and told me that I was going to be crucified, I’d have no choice but to go with him. I mean, really, I can’t get back to the bedroom quickly enough to get my key to take the shackles off, he’d only have to grab one arm or even the chain between my wrists and I’d be off to my cross.

Gotta get some more sleep.

 

Journal Entry 3

(Wednesday, 5:30 p.m.) DAMN! It’s raining a super heavy duty storm out there. I’d gone and gotten my drysuit out and ready for this because I wanted to take some time on my days off to spend in the suit in the rain. I knew the rain was coming. I totally spaced it when I put the shackles on. Now I’m locked up and prevented from getting into the suit.

I’m starting to realize what it means to be under control again. Even though I’m my own key holder, once I submitted to the shackles the clock truly became my master. I’m loving it on one hand, but on the other hand I’m truly hating it … in the sense that I can’t just go and do anything I want when I want because I’m unable to take the shackles off.

The piss slave jockstrap has been down around my ankles since I went to bed at 6 AM. I got a bit of a heat rash at work over the past two days (forgot that my dress slacks are a 50 percent wool blend) and the jock was irritating the rash. So for all intents and purposes, I’ve been here naked and shackled all day.

Another indicator of the reality of this is that in fantasy, I jack off, shoot my load, and it’s over. The reality of this is that I’m almost at the 23 hour mark, with a little over 38 hours to go. I’m feeling the frustration of the unyielding restraint of the shackles. That’s not really a complaint, although it sounds like one. Starting to wonder if I can make it the additional 38 hours before I go to work on Friday. And realizing that I’m only getting about a 10-hour respite, since I had promised Metal the restraints would go back on once I got home from work on Friday and stay on until I go back on Monday. THAT will be an even longer time, since my work schedule changes from mornings to evenings on Friday, so I’ll get home about 6:30ish, lock the shackles back on, and wear them until 2 PM Monday. That’s 68 hours. This time is only 58 hours, so I’m already having to do an extra 10 hours!

I’m also thinking of going out and buying a chain collar that I can wear under my shirt at work, so that I’ll be locked up … if even only metaphorically … 24/7.

Truthfully, even though I’m feeling a little frustrated, I need to do something like this more often. If my mail was delivered to my door instead of a communal mail receptacle, I’d consider mailing me my keys … but that’s not feasible since I’d have to get dressed to go get the mail. Gonna have to figure a way around that one. Readers, any suggestions?

 

Journal Entry 4

(Wednesday, 10:30 p.m.) OK, reality is finally setting in. It’s now the 28-hour mark, and my ankles are both chafed and irritated. Still no breaking of the skin, but walking is painful. I’ve been keeping my feet up as much as I can to try to alleviate the irritation. The only thing this is accomplishing is to make the irritation that much worse when I do have to get up. Not only do the shackles rub against the irritated skin, but the weight of them falling into place hurts.

Again, I’m not complaining. As I said, reality is setting in. I still have about 33 hours or so to go, then 10 hours of relief before a 68-hour shift. I can see that I’m going to have to get my headspace into SERIOUS sub-mode to put these shackles back on.

I have decided that I definitely will be stopping at the store to buy a chain collar before I come back home to lock the steel back on. I’m also going to put on a pair of gym shorts … putting the dog out is difficult enough with the shackles on, having to hold an afghan in front of me while doing so is even more difficult.

There is scant chance of me reneging on putting these back on, though. At least that’s what I can foresee at this point. I am still thoroughly enjoying this. Thankfully, the laptop keyboard fits within the distance of my wrist shackles, or even typing would be a difficult task. As it is, I do have to move both arms to use the mouse.

Still, I’m not complaining. And after 28 hours, I can still see myself someday being in these things 24/7 for the rest of time.

 

Journal Entry 5

(Thursday, 5:30 a.m.) OK, reality sucks. I have to play both roles, since this is a self-bondage situation. As a bottom I’m still enjoying wearing the irons. But they’ve broken the skin on both ankles now. So I had to play both top and bottom roles.

As a top I had to take into consideration the safety of the bottom. I looked at my ankles and decided that some preventive first aid was needed. So, I had to unlock the shackles one leg at a time, and apply neosporin and bandages. I couldn’t do it with the wrist shackles on. So I had to unlock my wrists to take care of my ankles.

I rubbed the neosporin on my open wounds and wrapped my ankles. Put some socks on over the bandages to hold them set. I let it set for a while as I tried to get my headspace back into bottom mode. When I went to put the shackles back on, there was a little bit of blood coming through. I took off my socks and bandages, put some more neosporin on, and let it air set. New bandages are on, and there’s no blood coming through, but, unfortunately, this session has come to an end.

I am more than just a little bummed out about it. But the No. 1 rule (at least as I was taught in my youth from what we now consider to be Old Guard) is SAFE, SANE and CONSENSUAL. While the consensual is there, it is no longer safe or sane for me to put the shackles back on.

But I will definitely be doing this again. I just know now to protect my ankles when I lock on the shackles. And here I was afraid my wrists would be my vulnerable points.

Final tally was 35 hours. 13 hours short of 2 days. 27 hours short of the total I was supposed to do.

I will have to do this again, because this was definitely fun!

 

Journal Entry 6

(Thursday, 7:30 p.m.) Just as I finished my last entry, the SSC part of me kicked back in to bottom mode from top mode. I asked if there was a reason why I couldn’t finish my sentence with just my wrist shackles. The top in me said that there was absolutely no reason at all, so as I was getting ready for bed I put the wrist shackles back on. I was out of them for all of 45 minutes. Putting them back on was immediately the same effect as putting on a familiar, well fitting, comfortable pair of my favorite gloves … and snapping the locks closed again was an instant hard on again.

Jacking off has been the most difficult part of this whole ordeal (except for the ankles). I usually like to lie face down with both hands holding my hardon back and forcing my hips to thrust. I’ve been doing it like that since puberty. So using my hands in the more “traditional” stroking method has been different … coupled with the slapping of the chain against my belly and, when I thought it out, my balls. Still, I am not complaining. Shot my load and went to sleep.

I didn’t update Metalbond when I put my wrist shackles back on, because if I’d have picked up the computer, I’d have been on it again for hours, and I needed to get some sleep. Except for the 45-minute break to tend my wounds, I’ve been wearing my wrist shackles the entire time. I’m now at the 50-hour mark, with 8 hours to go, roughly. This is by and far the longest time I have ever been in bondage, even dating back to my days of starting up the WCBC with Barry S. When I sent him my latest entry, Metalbond said: “It’s good that you had a top who let you out and cared for your wounds. Just think, many years ago, if you had been a slave or a convict, you might not have been so fortunate.”

This is very true, although I think a good slave owner would still have tended the slave’s wounds, just wouldn’t have released him from his shackles unless a doctor said it was necessary. Then again, as a slave I wouldn’t have had a 3D job to be concerned about outside the shackles, as my job would have been slavery.

He also asked if it was OK with me to post these comments when everything was done. Of course, my answer was an emphatic YES. That was the hope I’d entertained every time I sat to write an update. I hope that you readers have been enjoying this as much as I have. And yes, I have truly been enjoying this. I’m giving some very serious thought to making arrangements for my vacation time to be spent the entire time in these shackles – another man as my keyholder, making sure that only my most basic of needs are met, making sure that I’m not injured in any way, but also making sure that I live with my decision to wear them.

It’s only 3 times longer than I’ve gone this time around. And yes, even though my ankles are probably not going to be ready, I am still planning on putting the wrist shackles back on when I get home from work tomorrow night. It will be up to Metalbond to ask me, on behalf of you readers, if he wants more updates for the next session.

 

Journal Entry 7

(Thursday, midnight) In the photo you can see the cut on my left ankle. This is the worse of the two. You can also see the chain from my wrist shackles.

It doesn’t look like much now, but both ankles are still burning. I’ve put another dose of neosporin on them so I can go to work tomorrow.

 

Journal Entry 8

(Friday, 8:45 p.m.) So I took the shackles off to go to work and it was actually a sad feeling for me. The same kind of sad feeling when you have to say so long to a good friend. You know you’ll be seeing them again, but you’ll miss them all the same. I missed my shackles today while I was at work. I had to go to get some groceries to get through the weekend, so I also purchased a 24-inch chain collar from the dog aisle.

I got home and wasted no time in getting the shackles back on my wrists. I was locked in within 2 minutes of arriving home, placing wrists into steel and closing them without any regard for whether or not I wanted to wear them. I put them on myself like I’d have put them on a slave boy … quickly, determinedly, and with no regard for his desires.

It was like putting on a pair of comfortable gloves again. Like they belonged. Like they were a part of me.

Like I’d come home. Putting the chain around my neck and locking it on … feeling the chain of my shackles banging against my chest as I first placed the collar then locked it on only added to the feeling of …

Yeah, I could definitely live like this!

 

Journal Entry 9

(Saturday, 8 a.m.) Wow, I was sooooooooooooooooooo tired after work yesterday. I posted my update and went to bed. Slept well, surprisingly comfortable. I’m addicted to these shackles!

This is the first time in my life I’ve worn a chain collar. I am surprised as to how quickly it became like a part of me. It didn’t bother me one bit as I slept, and I’m not even noticing it except for when I force myself to pay attention to it. While it’s not technically bondage, it’s symbolic. It is steel locked on that cannot be removed without a key. While the shackles have to come off for daily “normal” activities outside the house, the collar does not have those restrictions. It is not coming off, period, end of discussion!

Just typing that last sentence made my dick hard!

I’m hoping there are a few hard dicks out there reading these updates, too.

 

Journal Entry 10

(Saturday, 6:30 p.m.) I am not only surprised by how comfortable my wrist shackles are even after all this time, I’m surprised as to how much I’ve adapted to wearing them. I’ve adapted “second nature” … where everything I do with them on is as natural as if I’ve always been doing it this way. Sure, there are obvious difficulties (most notably in the bathroom) but I truly do not have any complaints at all! I do miss the leg shackles, and for the most part the wounds on my ankles have healed (although soap in the shower this morning still burned). I’m also enjoying the chain around my neck, also as second nature.

I’m not normally into PROLONGED self-bondage. Usually self-bondage lasts until I pop a nut or two and I’m done. To say I’m proud of my achievement this weekend would not be accurate, though. Truthfully, I’m feeling quite humbled that I can, in fact, go like this as long as I have (and still longer to go). I’m dreading Monday, but not for the usual reasons most people dread Mondays. I’m dreading it because I have to remove most of this wonderful steel.

I’m wondering how I’ll be reacting at work with the collar on. It won’t be visible to anyone, but I’ll be aware of it at times. And that will definitely cause a reaction in me … I’ll find out what kind of reaction when Monday gets here.

When I first set for myself the dual deadlines of getting up for work on Friday and Monday, in my mind I thought for sure that I’d fail yet again as I always do at self-bondage. Perhaps it succeeded this time because I was able to move around. I don’t know. I just know that this is one of the horniest and hottest weekends I’ve ever experienced outside of IML.

Still not complaining.

 

Journal Entry 11

(Sunday, 6 a.m.) I think these shackles have brought out my true colors. I’ve always known that I’m a bondage pig. That was the biggest reason I started the Windy City Bondage Club back in 1986. Back then I always thought I was a top who preferred once in a while being bottom. Then as time went by, I thought of myself more as a 50/50 versatile.

Today I think of myself as a bottom.

Maybe I’m just in that headspace. I mean I have been locked up for almost 5 days, with only 2 bouts of relief. So I could be seeing things in my perceptions that are just clouded.

But that doesn’t explain why I’m such a horndog these past 5 days. My hormones haven’t rushed like this in 20 years. Again, I am not complaining.

I still have 38 hours left. It’s not enough time. I want more! And I am sure that you all will get to read about it!

 

Journal Entry 12

(Sunday, 6 p.m.) A very comfortable and restful sleep. The dog is confused as I haven’t been able to put an arm around her for the past 5 nights, but she still curls up at my feet so it’s all good, I guess.

I told a close friend about my decision to wear the chain around my neck. His words “Congratulations! Feels good, doesn’t it!” Yes, Tim, it absolutely does.

I have finally reached the point where the shackles are a nuisance. In a way, I suppose that it’s still fun. (It’s not bondage until you want out). And I am going to see these final 19 hours through … would be a terrible waste to come this far and punk out. And I don’t like waste.

I should have done something like this a long time ago. I definitely will be doing this again!!!!!

 

Journal Entry 13

(Monday, 4 a.m.) My last update before the end of my … well I don’t know what to call it. “Ordeal” isn’t the right word, but neither is “vacation.” This could have been one or both, but was neither. Yet, it was one of my most pleasant experiences in a very long time.

I’m going to bed for the last time now wearing my shackles. There won’t be time to do another update before I go back to work tomorrow, so I’ll have to do a wrap-up when I get home just after midnight.

I am going to miss wearing these on a constant basis. Sure, I can put them on at will, but this was a special occurrence where I had, basically, 5 consecutive days off, almost. That won’t be coming around again in a very long time.

I almost … almost … took a daring step tonight. I ran out of cat food. I almost decided to drive to the store and get some. If I hadn’t felt that my shackles would have prevented me from safely driving I might have gone out. Maybe. But in this area, common sense won out. Besides, there’s enough left over dry food to last them until I get home from work tomorrow night.

The chain around my neck is so comfortable. I’m glad I was wearing it while I was shackled. It gives me a sense of continuity.

I hope the readers enjoy vicariously what I’ve been enjoying in real life these past 5 days.

 

Recap

(Tuesday, 3: 30 am) Well, I’m really about all journaled out. There’s not much more I can talk about, but if readers want to ask questions I’ll gladly answer them.

I took the shackles off about 2 PM Monday 4/22. It was like removing a part of myself, cutting off a limb. I’d gotten so used to them that it physically hurt to have them removed!

I have a good friend in my hometown of Chicago with whom I shared the concept of locking the chain around my neck, and he’s encouraged me to keep it 24/7 for a while. Frankly, I don’t see any reason to remove it at all, unless I have to fly somewhere (fat chance). He hasn’t been advised yet of my 5 days bondage … he’s more of a participating player than a reading/voyeuristic player.

Really, nothing more to report. I’m a free man again, so readers, if you have questions, fire away.

 

 

Thanks, Aquala Guy, for keeping this journal! (If anyone wants to get in touch with this guy, send an email and I will forward it.)