Here are some “vintage” bondage pictures, taken by the late James Bond:
The last shot was taken at J’s Hangout, where the New York Bondage Club met for many years.
You can see much more of James Bond at Bob Wingate Blog and Rubberzone
Conversion – a story about a locking piss hood
By Aquala Guy
Part One
This work is entirely a piece of fiction, and written from the author’s fantasy. Names used are strictly an indication of the author’s fantasy men, and are not in any way a reflection or indication of the proclivities of any person besides the author. No inference should be made about anyone, except that the author is waiting for the day when he really does get a piss hood locked on his head.
Continue reading Conversion – a story about a locking piss hood
Hanging Out at MIR 2010
By Shast
I’d helped out in previous years and this year I’d volunteered to spend three afternoons helping with Demos in the Vendor Mart at MIR. It’s a fairly spontaneous area with an array of interesting equipment.
During Setup the organizer John commented about hanging me up and letting me scream for a while. Amused I largely shrugged. A bit later I was talking with the rather smoking hot DJ about breath control.
A while later John brings out this rubber bondage suit with a dual set of respiration tubes. It has an air intake that goes into the rubber cock sheath. It’s also got an output that goes out to a T and has two breather bags off it.
Going over into a less public area I stripped down and lubed up a bit and started putting the suit on. I a bit sheepishly came out to John and confessed I’d lost my erection. He was like no problem and had the suit on me in a jiffy. A briefly lubed caress on my member and a harsh cock ring and I was in the outfit. He made some comment about too much hair while zipping the hood on which was rather hot and a bit ominous at the same time. I moved over a bit as his direction and he started with assistance to put on the Mr. S. leather harness over the rubber. The breathing intake through the cock sheath was gently caressing my balls as the blow bag above it would inflate and deflate as I breathed in an out. This with the tight rubber made it hard for me to resist playing with myself. The air smelled strongly of both ball sweat and rubber and was quite exciting until my brain started tuning it out.
Some firm instruction(s) to bend my knees and spread my legs and after several strap tightenings I was snug as a bug in the harness. The hoist being lost in UPS it was improvisation time and I slowly climbed a later looking through the slightly fogged eye pieces in the tight hood. After buckling the harness into the suspension chains they gently pushed me backwards off the ladder and I was free floating.
It’s a weird feeling to be totally encased in tight restrictive rubber and yet free floating at the same time. I could move around my arms and legs without any issues but felt every bit the helpless anonymous rubber gimp. This was enhanced a bit as they clipped my legs together and then clipped my arms to the neck collar. After some fun spinning around and trying to see if I could kick people I was grabbed by my dick and pulled into place. After some fiddling they attached an electro cock ring around my balls and starting hooking it up the Eros Tek unit.
After a few misses suddenly my balls felt like they were being swarmed by a ton of ants. They set it up at 65 and let me stew in my own juices. I could tune it out without moving around too much for awhile but then it would spark up and make me squirm. That said the mode it was in would periodically shock me but it was predictable and I could eventually deal with it.
I tend to giggle and laugh a bit as a reaction to pain. The more pain the more I tend to laugh and I eventually even start to cackle like the joker. Someone came by and crank up the voltage a bit, my balls now felt like they were being sliced off. Needless to say I got quite loud. People couldn’t really hear me unless you were close through all of the rubber and breaking stuff but I was cackling quite loudly. Breathing heavily made the dual bags on the breather output to pump up, erotic they kinda looked like balls. I started thrashing around and was putting on quite a demo show.
Around an hour and a half I was laughing and cackling to the point I was starting to hyper ventilate. A bit of focus calmed me down a bit. Did you know if you can clearly visualize what it’s like breathing into a paper bag it has the same effect as if you were actually doing it? I was also able to non-verbally communicate with John and they unplugged the electro and gave me a break for a bit. Woo hoo. One of the cooler more surreal aspects of being the rubber gimp is that no one really knew who I was. Here I was hanging out in the middle of the vendor market in one of the kinkier positions I’ve ever been in and most people had no idea it was me. People who were doing setup even were wondering where I was and who the hanging “victim” was never connecting the two.
Another friend came over have heard me cackle (dead give away to people who knew me) and played with the electro box changing the settings. I was getting nervous and trying to pantomime to him not to turn it on. After it being briefly on he got the message and left the box where it was.
This wasn’t too bad and I breathed a sigh of relief but it was getting sweaty and I was a bit dehydrated at 2 hours in. Unfortunately this didn’t stop someone else from coming along and turning on the eros tech again.
This time it was at max on setting #2 (around 200). It not only felt like my balls where being deep fried but it would also cause my legs to twitch a bit involuntarily. To aggravate things the unit was on random mode so I’d get a shock every 20 seconds or so but in a random interval so I wasn’t able to anticipate as much.
My world rapidly focused down onto me taking deep breathes and cackling out the pain while thrashing around. Several people including the woofy DJ were enjoying the show and yanked on my legs at bit while having some amusingly banter with me. I had to focus and take the electro (and the jibes) and just let go and be there in the moment. It wasn’t the erotic energy it had been earlier but it was transcendent in it’s own right. John came back to check on me (note I was NEVER left un attended and had repeatedly gestured to people I was fine) and got my signal that I would like the electro turned down / off.
With a beautifully diabolical smile he’s like oh now we’re taking video so we’ll just turn things up. This got the reaction he wanted and the video didn’t take long (more of a mind game that making my situation worse) at around 2:30 hours hanging in the air I was given a break and the electro was disconnected (much to my relief).
The plan had been to keep me up there longer. And I put on a decent show a bit and spun around a bit without trying to kick anyone (at least seriously ) .
At about 2:45 I suddenly dropped two inches as one of the two primary straps on the harness broke on me. After a minutes panic I determined I was fine and signaled people to get me down.
Getting down to earth was kinda a weird feeling as I made a big squish touching the ground. I could feel the sweat pooling in the suit all the way up to my crotch. Getting the mask off was like a breathe of fresh air and I was suddenly dizzy and hard to stand.
After cooling down a bit I waddled to the bathroom to get out of the suit. Trying to not make a mess I managed to get out of the suite without making too big of a mess and poured the suit into the sink. Much to my shock the sink overflowed onto the floor. Staring down at the mess on the floor I just sat there starting at it.
Time to hydrate!
Copyright © 2010 by Shast, shast@deathstar.org (may be distributed in its original form ONLY)
Bike Trip – Parts 1 and 2
By Catdude
Part 1
I sat at the airport, nervously playing with my ticket, thinking over the event that had led to me being here, Josh pretty much ran my life now, he had made we quit my job, there had been very little option really, he told me that if I didn’t quit he would just confine me to my house with no food and that after enough days had passed that my job would have fired me he would finally allow me drugged food and I would re-awaken in my cell with the chair waiting to milk me. That had made it very easy for me to make up my mind.
Remembering Augie
Remembering Augie
By Gil Kessler
August Kalin passed away in New York City on April 4, 2011, following a major stroke two weeks earlier. Augie was 55. He was born in Syracuse, NY, and lived most of his life in the state. For the last five and a half years he lived with me in a wonderful Sir/boy relationship, both in New York City’s Greenwich Village and at our country home near Port Jervis, NY.
Augie was intelligent, creative, loving and handsome. He was “harleyxr” on Recon, and had many dear friends. We first met at the 1993 March on Washington for Gay Rights when a group of us in leather left the hotel and passed this innocent waif standing on the corner. He asked if we knew where the Eagle was. “Come with us, little boy” was our response, and later in the evening I took him “home.” That began our friendship, culminating in Augie’s moving in with me in October 2005.
He had several careers, including managing a 12 million gallon petroleum bulk facility for Sunoco, working for the NYC Parks Department as a gardener, and reorganizing and running the offices of a Brooklyn construction company. He converted the second floor of our country garage into a large dungeon (including innovative equipment), and had many fun scenes there. He especially loved clothespins, bondage, flogging and rubber, and his interest in photography leaves me with many wonderful pictures.
Augie was an avid motorcyclist, and rode all over the US. His first trip abroad was with me to London, then Costa Rica, then Turkey and Greece. Very favorite book: Lord of the Rings; favorite opera: Barber of Seville; favorite music group: ABBA; favorite classical music: Gil playing Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C# Minor on the piano; beloved pet: Jake, the basset hound, still living upstate with Augie’s previous lover (and our good friend) Paul.
For many years, Augie was a member of GMSMA, Delta, and TES. He took the Novices SIG in 2005, then we shared the teaching of the course each year since. He took very good care of me (now I’ll have to even relearn how to cook!), and I will miss him so very much.
Augie is survived by his mother, sisters, and brother. He passed peacefully in hospice, his hand in mine.
Chained Super Dude
Keeping a Line on Your Bottom
Keeping a Line on Your Bottom (or Vice Versa)
From Checkmate 17, November 1996, posted with permission
One of the benefits of living on 50 acres are the opportunities presented for outdoors play. Curiously, Bob and I do only a limited amount here and not completely sure why. Weather is a limitation in the climate of Northeastern Pennsylvania, which has winter, summer and a four-hour interlude in between. Another possible problem is that most of the visitors to the Mountain are city slickers who are squeamish about the bugs and other critters that abound around, in and under the house. Even though we have a wasp nest in the front entrance which makes some visitors nervous (we signed a non-aggression pact several years ago and studiously ignore each other) there are less bugs, comparatively speaking, inside than outside.
We do have visitors who enjoy the out of doors, including Monterey Jack, whose idea of a good time is to be chained naked to a tree in the woods, preferably during a rainstorm (see his article in CM 16). This is another example of the importance of the mind in SM. Jack’s goal is to be completely helpless. He achieves this goal by getting himself into situations where he would rather be anyplace other than where he is and has no way of making relocation. This convinces him that he is truly out of control.
A couple of years ago, we decide to erect a dog run in the woods several hundred feet from the house for Jack’s entertainment. The design is quite simple and consists of a steel cable fastened between two trees and a chain to which the subject is attached with slides along the cable. The attachment can be to a steel collar, to handcuffs or to both, according to your preference. I don’t recommend attaching the chain to leg irons. There is usually too much debris lying on the forest floor that could snag the chain and possibly trip up the prisoner. We are using half-inch uncovered cable because we had a good supply on hand. However, weathered wire cable has a tendency to develop steel splinters and should be handled only with heavy gloves. New quarter-inch cable with plastic coating is smooth, and also lighter and easier to put in place, although we think that is lacks something of the air of authority provided by the larger cable.
The length of the cable depends upon the locations of the anchor trees and your personal tastes. The cable that we are using here is 40 feet long between the trees. This is long enough to provide the chainee with a suitable change of venue. For the meticulous captive who is going to be leashed for the better part of a day or more, it allows him to eat and live at one end of the cable while using the ground around the other end as his toilet. It’s little amenities like this that allow for gracious living under adverse circumstances.
You should probably not use a cable of more than 50 feet. The longer the cable, the more dead weight that you have to deal with while fastening it in place. Putting up a 40-foot cable is a two-man job, with one supporting the middle of the cable while the other fastens the second end to the tree.
We recommend fastening the cable between eight and ten feet high on the trees and keeping the lowest point on the cable higher than the height of the attached “dog.” The cable should be looped twice around the tree and held in place with suitable clamps. We use two half-inch u-bolt wire rope clamps at each end. These are available at any hardware store.
The chain leash should be long enough to reach the ground so that if it is attached to the subject’s collar he won’t be injured if he accidentally falls. It also allows him to lie down and rest during the long scene. We are using a 10-foot chain with a 2-and-a-half-inch steel ring welded to one end to use as a slide (see pictures). You can use the end link of the chain if the link has an inside diameter large enough to keep it from binding on the cable. Use of a padlock or a threaded connecting link allows you to remove the chain from the cable without disconnecting one end of the cable from the tree. However, make sure they allow enough play to keep the chain from binding on the cable and if you used a connecting link make sure it’s tightened down enough that busy little hands can’t worry it loose and achieve an unauthorized escape.
There are a lot of possibilities for scenes based on this setup. A small lean-to can be placed at one end of the run in which the detainee can set up housekeeping for an indeterminate period. We have done no long-term confinement using the dog run here at the Mountain, a long afternoon being the limit thus far. However, we are advised of one situation in southern California where a Top going on vacation left his bottom in the care of a friend for a week or two. The bottom was in a similar situation to this, was fed regularly and periodically hosed down. We have no way of authenticating this story, although the Top who told us (the bottom sitter) has a good reputation and the arid climate in which it supposedly occurred would make it feasible as long as shelter from the sun was available.
This article and pictures are © 1996 and 2011 by Telecentral Electronics. Reprinted with permission.
Metal would like to thank the author, who can be contacted on Recon under the screen name Zerotaf.
Also thanks to nycbondageswitch for helping prepare the text for posting here on Metalbond.
The dangers of nitrous oxide
I just got back from the hospital, where I visited a local friend and play buddy who has been unresponsive for the past week and a half after a solo play accident involving nitrous oxide canisters — which are also commonly known as whipped cream chargers, “whippits,” “whippets” or “nangs.”
Everyone should be aware that using these canisters is dangerous. It can lead to serious physical harm, including brain damage or even death.
Please use caution.