Florida has a funny way of taking things the rest of world enjoys and making them trashier. Outside of the state’s biggest cities and most expensive zip codes, this state has all the refinement of a Jerry Springer episode, and the gay culture is no exception. One area where the trashy factor really shines through is in the run down mid-century motels turned into gay resorts. They litter the state and all have a similar feel: sparsely furnished rooms, poolside bars, and lush landscaping to keep activities somewhat private. One of these resorts on the west coast is pretty big and has some well attended themed weekends, so naturally I checked in for their annual leather weekend. I left my sometimes uptight professional demeanor at home, submitted to the fact that it would not be a weekend at the Four Seasons, and packed for what I hoped would be Florida’s version of IML.
I set my work aside early on Friday afternoon and headed across the state to the resort. It was exactly what I had expected from the online photos, perhaps even a bit cleaner and more updated. There were two long two-story buildings with second floor open walkways flanking the pool. The former hotel lobby and restaurant had been converted to bars, one with a little dance floor. The décor was part kitschy mid-century modern, part whatever the owners could find on the cheap. The place reeked of bleach, which I took as a good sign.
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Keith and I went back into the house to get cleaned up. It was late afternoon and I was exhausted, not having been able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time in various states of confinement. Keith received a text message from Tyler instructing us both to get some rest before a long evening ahead. He fitted me in a “light” bondage position for a nap, consisting of the blindfold attached once again to my hood, a pair of rubber shorts, and a leather straight jacket. Keith connected a chain from my collar to the bedpost, and laid down with me for a few hours of deep sleep.
I slept well, enjoying the warm cocoon of the leather, barely aware of my erection growing against the tight rubber shorts. Despite the hood and straight jacket, it felt liberating to lay there with no gag, no plug in my ass, and no cage around my dick. As I dozed off, I laughed to myself thinking of what a bondage pig I had become, that this is how freedom now felt, and complete freedom was a distant and not missed memory. I missed David, as it was usually him lying next to me making me feel protected even when I ached and had little freedom of movement. And it was usually David that made me ache. I hoped my hosts were keeping him updated, so he could enjoy my predicaments from afar.
Continue reading Lent Out – Part 4
I woke up struggling against this neoprene sack throughout the night and into the next morning. My mouth was caked with piss, cum and saliva. The hood felt hot and the complete blackness grew frustrating. The collar make my neck stiff and sore. I had no idea what time it was. My arms were tight against my sides. I was thirsty and aching and had to pee. My dick was still locked in the chastity pod, fighting futilely against its spikes.
Someone came to release me, informed me it was already after noon. He removed the gag from my mouth, but reminded me the hood was staying on until Sunday. He removed the pod from my dick. After fighting erections in this thing all night, now that my dick was finally free it was too exhausted to get hard.
I drank some water and used the bathroom. I wondered what my dick looked like after getting impaled by the little spikes. I stretched and tried to orient myself despite the lack of vision, and considered what Tyler and Keith might have in store for me for the remainder of my captivity. I was led into the shower and washed down thoroughly. Then I was brought down to the kitchen and fed some eggs. I used my hands as I could not find my mouth with a fork.
I was slowly coming back to life, sitting in this kitchen naked except for a hood and trying to eat. My mind wandered back to the previous night, a wild an unexpected and totally hot night, and my dick sprang up as if suddenly realizing it was finally free to do so.
“That’s awesome,” I heard Tyler. “Just sitting here eating your fucking eggs turns you on.” I just smiled, remembering his ban on speaking. After some silence he said, “It’s ok, you can speak now. Are you doing ok?”
“Seriously, that wasn’t too intense?”
Continue reading Lent Out – Part 3
Next I felt my hands being brought in front of me and cuffed again, with lighter cuffs than I wore previously. The cuffs were chained to a loop on the front of the chastity shorts. The blindfold came off so I could see Tyler in front of me again, and better hear the music and people downstairs. Glancing around, I found we were alone in this makeshift dungeon. He smiled and asked me if I was having fun. How quickly I forgot how much pain I had been in as I nodded yes.
Taking in his bare torso and evil smile, it was hard to complain. “You’re going to be our bartender. So I am going to allow you the bare minimum of freedom to make that happen.” With that he grabbed the gag again, which I had not noticed lying on a table nearby. It was huge and still wet from my saliva. Had I seen it before, I would not have believed it would fit in my mouth. Tyler brought the gag to my face and I started to back away shaking my head side to side, before be grabbed the back of my head and shoved the gag in.
Continue reading Lent Out – Part 2
Inspired by various stories of bondage games, my boyfriend and I came up with our own. David wrote the rules, and let me weigh in. We use dice, with the first roll deciding the duration of bondage. Starting Friday after work, I roll one die. If it comes up 1, then I am let out of whatever bondage situation David comes up with by Saturday morning. 2 = Saturday afternoon; 3 = Saturday night; 4 = Sunday morning; 5 = Sunday afternoon; and 6 = Monday morning. The next die roll decides the type of bondage. 1 = rubber; 2 = leather; 3 = puppy play; 4 = metal; 5 = clothing; and 6 = sensory deprivation.
I particularly enjoy rolling a 5, as he comes up with some way for me to be in bondage under my clothes, like wearing a locking butt plug harness under tight jeans or locking on a heavy metal ball stretcher to be worn under a suit. He knows how much I get off on the subtle humiliation factor of barely detectable bondage in public. We started with the idea of a third die to determine the type of activities: eletro play, piss, flogging, fucking, CBT, breath play, etc. But then David decided against that, as he does not want dice to limit how he tortures me.
David told a friend about this game, who got quite intrigued, which made for an interesting weekend for me while David was away for work.
Continue reading Lent Out – Part 1
I was a mix of exhaustion, frustration, fear, and a bit of anger laying inside a locked box, head trapped in a leather hood, torso in a straightjacket, legs in laced up binders, and myriad straps limiting my movement within the box itself. I had no energy to struggle, which would have been pointless and likely only given Alex reason to somehow further restrain me. I labored to calm myself, tried to push past the frustration and get into a submissive head space, and maybe even enjoy my predicament or doze off.
I thought about what a hot weekend in New Orleans my boyfriend and I were having. We were both stressed with work, and this little getaway was much needed. I hope he was having as much time meeting new people and seeing the city, as I was being locked up within it. I drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally waking with an erection struggling to grow in my chastity device, or a bit of panic as I forgot where I was and had to calm myself down. Eventually I woke having to pee, and from that point could no longer fall back asleep, just waited as calmly as possible for release, hoping I would be let out before having to pee myself in this box and surely be punished for that.
Continue reading End of Vacation
On the Sunday of our long weekend in New Orleans, our friend Alex held a barbecue for David and me, plus several other guys at his house. The house itself was in New Orleans’ Bywater neighborhood, a great old section of the city largely free from tourists. It is a gritty area, with some rough blocks of row homes and the occasional restored Greek Revival mansion. Alex’s house was somewhere in the middle, a once ornate home in need of work, but full of charm and mystery in its worn state. Perhaps he preferred it that way, as the faded paint and rusted ironwork gave the home something of an erotic charge.
The stockpile of bondage gear and bondage-related artwork completed the scene, making the whole place feel like a porn film set. In the living room a distressed leather sofa sat near a gleaming standing metal cage. In the dining room there was a pool table where one might find a dining table, and the only chair was a contraption in the corner with a dozen or more leather straps, which happened to be occupied at the moment by a hooded and gagged figure. The courtyard held a serious grill and a picnic table, and also a St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner and numerous heavy duty eye hooks set into the paving and garden wall. There was a brick-bordered pool, which looked perfect for the heat of this summer weekend.
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From my previous accounts, you will know that my boyfriend and I have developed a serious power play dynamic, which did not occur until a couple of years into our relationship. I always had a strong desire to be bound and punished, and eventually awakened a dominant side of David that continues to blow my mind. He keeps me in a steady rotation of chastity devices, overnight bondage scenes, and just plain hot sex. Occasionally we play with others, but mostly we enjoy finding ways to be creative in our sexual pursuits together. Our last vacation got creative.
Continue reading Vacation