By PFC Pflege

I was twenty-four when I finished my tour of duty in the Marine Corps, and returned to Philadelphia. After a while, I finally landed a job which paid pretty well, and I was able to afford my own place in center city, half of a row house. I had the basement and the first floor; two guys had the upper two floors and the roof deck.

My basement held the kitchen, the bedroom, and the bath; the first floor was the living  room/dining room. Both front and back of the house had long panes of glass which ran from the basement to the top of the first floor, through cuts in the sidewalk and rear alley. These windows gave a lot of natural light, and made the living area on the first floor really nice. The action, however, and the circumstances of this narrative, all took place in the basement.

I had had a fair amount of experience in bondage before and during college, mostly playing around with buddies, no real sex, though it came close sometimes. In the Marines, however, my experience was vastly expanded, and during the last year in the service, there were damn few nights that I, or one or two of the others in the squad bay, weren’t tied up in some way: spread eagled to the bed, tied to a chair, hogtied, you name it. Our squad bay got kinda famous for it, and sometimes new guys would stop by, and end up tied up on the floor.

So when I moved into my little place, on my 25th birthday, I was a fully paid-up, saber-toothed bondage boy. Also, I hit the gay scene in Philadelphia like a thousand bricks. It was the era of long hair, and my buzz cut stood out a mile. So did my muscular build, and my walk – like a Marine right off the parade ground. I could use the “look”, too, which lit the fuse in any guy I saw, who had fantasies about the military, and particularly the Marines. Marines had a mystique, and I could give the guys anything they fantasized about. Mostly they wanted to be dominated, made to say “Yes sir”, and suck my cock. Others, though, I soon learned, loved to be tied up and fucked. These guys I collected the most. I loved bringing some scared college kid back to my basement rooms, make him strip stark naked, and tie him up to the bed, face down. If they hadn’t been fucked before, they learned quickly. Soon it wasn’t necessary for me to go the bars. In about 4 or 5 months, the word had spread around, particularly about my love of tying guys up, and I would get phone calls. They were all pretty much alike: “Hi, is this Dan? A friend of mine told me….”

But one late June night, a buddy called. He had a friend in from out of town, and the friend wanted to go to the bars, and would I come? I said sure, and met them at one of the usual spots. The usual crowd was there, and most of the guys – gay Philadelphia was very small indeed – had spent some time in my basement. I met a lot of them, and introduced my buddy’s friend, and the party had begun. I was picking up drinks at the bar, and turned around to take them back to the table, when I was suddenly looking into the eyes of Colin, who was standing right behind me. Little did I know then that in a few weeks, Colin would give me a night I would never forget.

I knew Colin, of course, and even had suspected he was gay, but he was amazed to see me in a gay bar. A lot of guys were, they never thought there was such a things as gay Marine. Colin was a college classmate of mine, but after graduation, when I went into the Marines, I hadn’t seen him in 3 years. Which suited me. I didn’t dislike him, but I didn’t like him either. He used to follow me around in college: if I was in the library, he’d study next to me. If I was in the dining hall, he’d bring his tray. Among my friends in college, his Mary-had-a-little-lamb act gained Colin some facetious comment.

There was nothing really wrong with Colin, except that, even then, because he seemed fascinated with me, I suspected he was gay. And plenty of my friends used that word about him, and other words, too, like faggot and cocksucker. Colin was something of an athlete, and, as I looked at him in the bar that night, he had kept up with his workouts. In college, he was a gymnast, but after they canceled the sport in our first year, he had to go to a local high school to train. He was slightly taller than I, about six foot one inch. His build was good – in the bar I noticed that his tight-fitting shirt showed off the Vee shape of his torso, and the muscularity of his chest, shoulders, and arms. He had on cut-off jeans, which showed off a really good set of legs, and nothing in his crotch suggested any deficiency there.

The problem was that Colin left me cold. A guy can be built, hung, and everything you could want, and yet something about him turns you off. Something about Colin left me absolutely cold about him. He wasn’t creepy, but he was close. I didn’t want him touching me at all, let alone doing anything else.

He stuck right to me in the bar, so I brought him over to my friends and introduced him. We all sat down, and Colin, of course, sat right next to me. If I had made the slightest move or shown the slightest interest, I think he would have been all over me. Not that a lot of other guys wouldn’t, too. I was not unaware of the whispered talk at the bar, when I got the drinks. I made sure I flexed my muscles while paying for them, and swung my shoulders as I strutted to the table. The uniform those days was topsiders, cut-offs, and t-shirts, and I filled the cut-offs and the t-shirt like a peg driven into a hole too small for it. The short sleeves of the t-shirt did nothing to hide my biceps, and the tight cotton stretched across my chest, emphasizing the twin tits. I lounged easily in the chair, my legs spread, and was comfortably aware of the guys who were staring at me. No, I didn’t think I was hot, or anything like that. Sure. And yes, I enjoyed it.

In the next few weeks, Colin kept pestering me to go out for dinner, go out to a movie, go out to the bars. But I had plenty to occupy my evenings, and sometimes as many as 3 or 4 guys would turn up in one night. Still I didn’t know that my night with Colin was fast approaching.

It happened like this. I wanted an evening alone, and it was a Friday night. I didn’t want any phone calls, so I took the phone off the hook,  changed out of my suit in the regulation cut-offs and t-shirt, and sat down in the living room area with a drink. I thought of what to do for dinner, and was just deciding on a pizza, when the door bell rang.

Hell, I thought. I got up, and answered the door. It was Colin.  While I didn’t want to see him, or anyone for that matter, I had refused all his invitations so many times, that I asked him in for a drink. For once, he wasn’t coming on to me; in fact, he seemed like quite a different guy, much more low key and relaxed. His eyes traveled up and down my hard body, but then mine did his – two 25-yeard-old gay guys do that stuff. We had a drink, and another, and another, and ordered a pizza. I was really enjoying being with him, a fact which surprised me, but maybe it was the booze. I had not the slightest inkling that he was setting me up. He told me about some guy he was in love with – later, I learned this story was a total fabrication – and we talked about that. Then, he suggested a game of baccarat. It was the rage then – everyone played it – it’s a form of twenty-one, in which the top winning card is the nine. You get dealt two cards and have the option of calling for two more. It’s a simple game, and, as I say, it was the rage then.

I agreed to the game, and we played a while. Then he suggested strip, in which the loser of a “set” (a “set” was five hands; winner got best of five) had to take something off. By this time, the way Colin acted and had been talking, I was completely lulled into agreement, but only, I said, if it’s strip and nothing more. No sex, I repeated, and Colin agreed. I should have known that his infatuation with me hadn’t ended all that quickly, and I should have suspected that the many hands he “lost” at baccarat were deliberately lost. But I had been drinking, and Colin had  been behaving so decently, and he had agreed – no sex. So we decided that the loser had to obey the winner for one thing. My intention, for example, was to make Colin walk back to his apartment naked. He lived about four blocks away. It never even occurred to me to ask him what he would make me do, because it never occurred to me that I could lose.

We played the first few sets of five hands each, or, rather, the best of five each, and Colin was quickly stripped to his briefs. As he stood up to take his shorts off, leaving only his hip-hugging black briefs on, I noticed that that he had a hard-on, and that he was hung big; his cock, bent in a curve in the briefs, was thick and long. I smiled at the hard-on; obviously Colin wanted to lose to me. Or maybe he was excited about walking home naked – I had told him what I would make him do.

We deal another hand. “By the way, Colin, “ I asked. “What were you planning to make me do?” Notice I was using the past tense, as if I had already won.

“Tie you up with your own ropes,” was his reply.

I laughed, and stretched out my legs, peaking at my cards. “Dream on,” I said.

We played, and I lost. Off went my shoes. We played again, and again I lost. Something awoke in me, and I noticed that Colin was playing differently than before. He was concentrating, and his whole attitude had changed. Meanwhile, I had removed my shirt, and now sat in my cut-offs, and under the cut-offs, Speedos. I wore Speedos with almost everything, and this pair – green with white side panels – were my favorites. Now I was getting nervous, and played a little wildly. It cost, because I lost the next set, 3 games to 2. My cut-offs came off, leaving me only the Speedos. Now Colin and I were equally stripped, and whoever won the next set was the winner.

I was never in it. Colin won 2 games in a row, and then he deliberately slowed down on the third game, the winning game. This hand took forever, with each of us studying the cards, and wondering whether to call for another, or stand. Finally, I tossed out my cards – a seven – good enough to win most hands. Colin slowly fanned his cards on the table – a perfect nine. His mouth formed a wolfish grin, while the blood pounded in my head. There was a long silence.

“Well, Colin, I suppose you have won.”

“Yes, Dan, I have. Please remove the card table and your chair, and bring your ropes into the room.”

He hadn’t ordered me to strip off the Speedos, so I left them on, as I folded the table. We had been playing in the kitchen in the basement, and the card table slid behind the fridge. The chair was a folding chair, too, and I stowed it in the tiny closet with the brooms. Colin remained seated, his legs wide spread, the bulge of his erect cock even bigger.

“Are you going to play the game fairly, Dan?”

“Yes,” I replied. I went into the bedroom, and pulled the box of ropes from the closet, and carried it into the kitchen. Colin had moved a small rug into the center of the kitchen, and was standing beside it. I still had on the Speedos, and Colin still wore his briefs. My eyes fixed on the bulging curve between his legs, but Colin’s body didn’t interest me at all.

He took rope and started binding my hands behind my back. “Remember, Colin, no sex,” I said. “I remember,” he answered. “I’m just going to tie you up.”

He surprised me; he was damn good. He tied my wrists, with the palms of the hands flat together, and then took the ends of the rope and wove them between the wrists, forming a tight binding, then tied the ends together above the wrist bones where my fingers couldn’t reach them. He helped me down on the pad on my knees, and then forward, so I was lying face down. He tied the ankles the same way as my wrists, and then pulled the legs up and back, tying the ankles to the wrists. He added more rope, quickly and skillfully, and, in a few minutes, I was tightly and securely hog-tied. Then, he sat down, and the atmosphere in the room changed completely with his words, as he spoke to me.

“I have been waiting for years for this moment,” he said, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. I was tightly hog-tied, and Colin had reverted to his old self, the almost creepy guy who followed me around in college, and had pestered me for dates in the last few weeks. He continued speaking, as if the words were a rich wine he was enjoying.

“Yeah, for years. Now I have got you, and there is no escape for you.” I twisted on the floor, trying to see his face, and found his eyes looking down at mine. One hand was stroking the massive bulge in his crotch, and my throat went dry with fear. What the hell was he going to do?

“You said no sex, as part of the game, and I agreed, so it won’t be part of the game. It will be the price of your freedom. You will remain tied up until you agree to kneel in front of me, and suck my cock.”

His words were like a match on gasoline – I went completely apeshit angry. I screamed at him every curse word I could think of; I called him a fucking faggot, and a cocksucking whore. While I cursed him, I struggled with all my considerable strength to get out of the ropes.

“That was stupid, Dan,” he said calmly, when I had finally pumped myself out. “Now I will tie you up much tighter.”

He did. The first thing he did was tie my elbows together,  and then brought the ends of the rope over my shoulders and through the armpits, so the elbow rope wouldn’t slip. This rope, in itself, was enough to finish me, because it severely limited any movements I could make with my hands. Anybody who has been hog-tied like that knows what I mean. But that wasn’t enough for Colin. He took more rope, my own rope, the same rope I used to spread eagle guys on my bed, and threaded it through the mass of rope cinching my wrists and ankles, pulled hard, and tied the ends to the elbow rope. He tied my knees together, and added rope across my upper arms and shoulders. He knew exactly what he was doing, and had obviously had lots of experience.  He sat down, playing with his bulge.

He leaned back, stretching his legs, and I looked up his legs to the bent curve of his erection. The mood in the room had changed, since my outburst and his further tying me tighter. It wasn’t master-slave, it was more like a final victory after a long war, and I was the defeated adversary, trussed and brought into the court for the winner to enjoy. Colin’s voice was easy, conversational now. He had reached his goal, and was savoring the triumph.

“You treated me like shit for years, Dan, but now you will definitely pay for it. While you are tied up, you can think how stupid you were, and how easy it was for me to set you up. One of your buddies is a friend of mine. He kept me up-to-date on everything you do, including that trip to the bar a few weeks ago. You even told him you weren’t going out tonight; that was stupid. He called me right after you told him. That’s why I am here tonight; I knew you be alone.”

He freed his big cock from the briefs, and was stroking it. He looked down at me. “Don’t worry, Dan. there will be plenty of cum for you to eat, even if I jerk off ten times.”

I remained silent, watching him masturbate. I wondered which of my buddies had betrayed me into Colin’s hands. Meanwhile, Colin kept talking as he stroked his cock. It was bigger than I had imagined.

“I wondered what I would say to you, after I tied you up. I have jerked off to the thought of tying you up, and having you in my power, for years. Your arrogance towards me used to make me angry. Now your arrogance has got your hog-tied at my feet. And your stupidity, too. I can’t believe you fell for that story tonight about my being in love with some guy. Even your buddies know how I feel about you. Maybe arrogance and stupidity go hand in hand. But, of course, your real stupidity was agreeing to that card game. Or maybe that was arrogance, too – I am Dan, the Marine, no way I can lose.”

He leaned further back, and grunted, thrusting his cock upwards. Suddenly, he spurted, with great gobs of his cum hitting the floor between him and me. It kept cumming, until finally, he sank back in the chair. He left the room without a word, taking his clothes, which were still heaped on the floor. In a few minutes I heard the front door open and shut, and Colin was gone.

That was all I needed, I thought. Now I could concentrate on getting free. I was strong, and had agile fingers, and total faith that I could escape from any rope bondage. So I fought the hog-tie for hours and hours. One knot I could just reach with my fingers, and I worked on it, trying to loosen it. If I could get something started…

I slept. I know it sounds crazy, but I slept. The body shuts down. One time, at Master Jack’s dungeon in California, I was chained in a hog-tie which kept my body in constant aching agony, yet I slept. I don’t know how long, probably only a few minutes at a time, but I did sleep.

I was sweating lightly, but not much, A small pool of sweat formed in the small of my back, and drained off, whenever I rolled on my side, to try to reach the knot. I was lean, hard, and muscular, and I kept struggling with the ropes until I became aware that the room was lightening significantly. The electric lights in the kitchen faded into the growing dawn, and I realized I had been hog-tied for eight or nine hours, and had gotten exactly nowhere in my struggles and writhing and twisting. The big window panes were definitely letting in dawn’s light, and a curious feeling started taking hold of me, a feeling which communicated itself directly to my cock, still imprisoned inside the sweaty Speedos. My cock went suddenly and savagely hard, as my mind dealt with a new circumstance: I am going to have to do what Colin wanted. I am going to have to submit.

Colin, whose body was a turn-off for me, now became incredibly desirable. My mind was consumed with his bog horse-cock, and the hairs at the base of his big horse-cock. Eight or nine hours of bondage had broken down the door to some dirty little corner of my mind. I rolled back on my stomach and ground my rock hard erection into the floor. I lusted for Colin, obscenely squirming on the floor, lusting for his big fuck tool. For an hour or more, I lusted in heat, all my emotions and feelings concentrated on Colin’s erect cock. Then, I heard the front door open.

It was a few minutes before Colin came in. Without looking at me, he placed a bottle of champagne on the kitchen counter, and opened it. He was wearing, again, only the black briefs. He looked in the cabinet, and found two glasses, one of which he filled. He sat down in the same chair, spread his legs, and let me feast my eyes on the lovely bulge between his legs.

“I figured you would be ready by now,.” he said, conversationally, as he sipped the foaming champagne.

“I am,” my voice croaked.

“Oh? and what are you ready for?”

“To kneel stark naked before you, and service your cock for as long as you want.”

“That will be a long time.”

“We have all weekend,” I answered.


Copyright 2007- 2013 PFC Pflege & BBH Ltd. All Rights Reserved.



This story was originally posted to the Bondagezine site, and it is used here with permission.

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