Rural Pursuits – Parts 1 to 5

By Kiggle

Chapter 1

I had grown up at the same time as Jim, although he was not a particular friend of mine. I had always admired him: he seemed so confident and self possessed. His father had owned large market gardens producing some splendid vegetables on the fertile soils surrounding our village. Jim’s father had died a while ago and Jim had inherited the large family home with all its outbuildings and barns. In earlier times these outbuildings had housed the carts and the stable for Dolly their big old horse.

Jim had always had fingers in many pies. He was essentially a builder and decorator so the family home was always in immaculate condition. He employed a whole group of temporary workers to do a wide range of other work around the village like ditch clearance and tree felling.

One night in the village pub we were talking about apples, of all things, and Jim was telling us how very carefully they needed to be stored. On the way home I called in with him to one of the outbuildings to see just where and how his apples were stored. There were stacks and stacks of them, all neatly arranged in tiers and rows, not touching one another, and going right up into the gloomy roof of the barn-like building.

Then I had a shock. Hanging high up was a body. I gasped out loud and Jim wondered what was wrong. I told him and pointed to the figure hanging close up to the high beams. Jim burst out with loud laughter and went over to where the end of a rope was anchored against the wall. He loosened the rope and lowered the ‘body’ to the ground. In the better light at ground level it proved to be a pair of thigh waders and a coat. The coat was a heavy ‘oilskin’. Apparently when the workers had gone into the market garden fields to gather the crops or to weed them and so on they had, in wet weather, worn thigh waders and full length oilskin coats, because the taller vegetables like Brussels tended to hold the rain and to drench the workers as they brushed past.

Except, the oilskin was not actually oiled skin. It was a double breasted full length coat made from a medium weight, densely woven and very strong canvas. To the outside of this was applied a tar-like substance to waterproof it. There was no ventilation in the garment, it was heavy and cumbersome and it had a strong, not unattractive smell. Apparently, the tar-like waterproofing became a little sticky in the summer heat and the garment could become a sticky mess, destroying its waterproofed character. So the custom was to put a strong beam of wood through the arms to keep them outstretched and away from the body of the garment, to prevent them sticking together, and then to hoist the garment up to the airy roof storage area.

When Jim let the ‘body’ down it was just such an arrangement. A strong spar of wood – not quite a 4″ x 2″, but quite substantial had been put through the sleeves making it look like a scarecrow. The rope was fastened to an eyebolt in the wood near the neck of the garment. Additionally, a pair of waders had been joined with a strap and hung on the wooden beam. When hoisted up to the roof area it looked for all the world like a body.

I, too, laughed when I saw what it was and then I became intrigued. I don’t know what possessed me but I said to Jim ” If someone wore that coat in that fashion they’d be in some difficulty.” Jim gave me an odd look and said “Yes, they’d be stuck like a scarecrow”, and he started to unfasten the coat. He undid the rope from the eyelet and slid the beam out of the sleeves. He proffered the coat to me, and it was obvious he meant me to put it on, so I did. I had known him a long while and was completely comfortable with this. Jim did up the double front almost to the throat and told me to spread my arms. Then he slid the heavy spar through the sleeves. The coat was not oversized or voluminous and with the spar up the sleeves as well as my arms in them it was a tight fit, with no chance to bend them or slide them up over the elbow. He attached the rope to the eyelet behind my neck, and buckled the coat collar. I could then barely move. Then he took two straps. They looked as if they had been part of Old Dolly’s harness; old, well-oiled leather, black with age, double stitched and very thick. He slipped one round each wrist, pinioning together the coat sleeve, my wrist and the spar of wood. I could not move my wrists. Then he put another stout belt round my waist, tightly. By this time the coat was beginning to generate quite a bit of heat. He took another long strap – again it looked as if it might have been from the harness – put it behind my neck, brought both ends round to the front and put them under my arm pits and fastened them somehow round the back. Now I was in a fix – very much so. I was bound closely to the wooden bar and getting hotter in the coat. I began to realise that this was not entirely spontaneous. Jim had done this before, perhaps many times. Otherwise why would he hang on to a strong oilskin coat? Then, another longer strap was put around my knees, first above and then below the actual joints. This bound the skirts of the coat closer to me. As, I have said, the coat had not been cut generously and this most recent strap pulled it tight, making very obvious the hard that I had on. It stood out like a tent peg. Jim playfully but gently pushed it down slightly, and smilingly told me to ‘get it down’. I couldn’t. He then pulled on the rope and drew it quite taut so that I was unable to move around at all. I was like a dog at the end of a leash.

I began to struggle to the limited extent that I could. Jim watched, almost disinterestedly. All the struggling produced was extreme frustration and considerably more heat. Except, perhaps that it conduced to keep me very hard: and every so often a puff of warm air would come up from within the coat. It was a puff of a mixture of warm body and the smell of the tar-like waterproofing. In fact, as I struggled the smell of the tar-like substance became more stimulating and I began to enjoy it.

Jim stood there for some time smiling but saying nothing. Eventually I asked to be released. His answer was a nice broad grin: he walked silently away, turned out the light and went. It was pitch dark and I was getting hotter and harder.

I felt a bit cross with him: I felt a bit cross with myself for allowing him to put me in this situation. Nevertheless, I was enjoying it and I felt perfectly safe and secure. I really did trust Jim.

Naturally, (and predictably) he came back after a short while and began to release me. By then it was getting quite late. As he undid the straps and so on Jim said that I had very obviously enjoyed myself and that he did have other toys for another occasion. I went away that night on a high, with a renewed respect for Jim and an altogether different view of him. I wondered what he meant by ‘another occasion’.

 

Chapter 2

 

Not long after my little adventure with Jim in the apple store I was again in the village pub. It was a quiet night: there were very few patrons around, and they were nearly all in the saloon bar – not where we normally drank. I had had a pint with Jim and conversational topics were not forthcoming: in fact Jim seemed almost as if he wasn’t anxious to talk that night. One of Jim’s part time employees was there, too – Pete. Now Pete had not been brilliant at school: he’d been fair to middling at sports but outstanding at nothing. He was a nice quiet tempered young man, always there to do the humping and shifting at village activities like the fete and the Christmas show. But he was never selected for the star role. He had no girl friend and I think people put this down to his reticent manner, although he would have made a good husband and father. He was solidly built and quite good looking. He had large competent looking hands: and that kind of thumb that turns back on itself that you see so often on skilful mechanics and carpenters and so on. He never seemed to seek anything for himself, or push himself forward, but nobody would object to having him around.

After we had sat for a while in the pub Jim said “Come on home, and we’ll have some fun” I wondered whether this was to be the ‘another occasion’ he had spoken about. Then he said to Pete “Coming Pete?”. My heart fell. So it wasn’t to be that ‘other occasion’?

Well, we did go to Jim’s home and into the apple store. Except this time we went to the far end. I noticed on the way through that the ‘body’ had gone. At the far end we came to a heavy door with two bolts which were locked shut with close shackle padlocks. There must be something valuable here, I thought. Jim unlocked the door and when we went through we were in a small lobby. Pete shut the door behind us and bolted it, and Jim turned on the light. There was another similar door ahead of us. Jim picked up a blindfold from a shelf and handed it to Pete who put it on me! Jim then said simply that he was going to handcuff me. That surprised me; then Pete applied a pair of rigid cuffs to my wrists, hands behind my back.

I heard the inner door being opened and we went through. I heard Jim operate a switch and was able to glimpse a chink of light at the bottom of my blindfold. Jim led me further into the room and suddenly took off the blindfold. I was dumbfounded. The room was brilliantly lit, but it had black matt walls. In the centre was a cube of scaffolding tubes, about 10 feet on each side. There were diagonals for strengthening and uprights and cross bars etc. But then, Jim was a builder. It was quite a contraption. There were weird pieces of furniture in chrome and leather which looked as if they had come from some way-out gym. There were no windows. The door we cam in by was hefty and reinforced on the inside by a heavy steel plate, as was the only other door which from its position looked as if it went to the outside. Up in the roof the spaces between the exposed rafters were filled in with iron bars. No way out through the roof either. From those rafters were suspended a variety of hooks, chains, pulleys, eyebolts etc. This large outbuilding had been the blacksmith’s workshop in the ‘old days’ and it had a very prominent fireplace. The recess to the left of that fireplace was quite deep and had been sealed off with iron bars to form a cell. There was a slim iron bar door with a substantial lock in the centre and a staple and hasp fitting near the top and the bottom. Very secure. The cell walls had a series of eye bolts set into them. The other, right hand, recess had been completely bricked up except for a door. It was the type of door one saw in films of prisons and police stations, with a spy hole and a small flap. I guessed that this recess was a cell, too. One wall had a series of cubic grey steel lockers like one sees in a factory changing room. Another wall held padlocks, handcuffs leg irons, metal restraints and so on all neatly hung on the wall each in its place – just like a high class mechanical workshop. Nearby was a wardrobe-like grey steel cabinet.

I was speechless; and Jim then asked me if I liked his ‘playroom’. I told him I had never seen anything like it. He explained that I had been blindfolded and handcuffed so that had I reacted badly to the sight of this room, I cold have been blindfolded again, quickly, and taken out without too much difficulty. He then took me on a quick tour of the room, explaining some things like a bondage chair. He showed me the ‘bricked up’ cell. Indeed it was a cell; but it was a padded cell! I was bewildered. Jim promised me that I could ‘have a go’ at it all in due course, and when he thought I was ready. And Pete stood by grinning broadly!

 

Chapter 3

 

So there I stood in Jim’s splendid playroom, with my hands handcuffed behind my back; and I think Jim had been pleased with my initial reaction. Then he said “Well, let’s make a start, then. Get your gear off!” Now, when I had tried on the oilskin coat I’d had my jeans and tee shirt on. I had not expected to have to go starkers. Jim gently explained that this was ‘the rule of the house’. So I agreed.

A heavy metal collar was fetched, and a pair of leg irons. The leg irons were put on and the handcuffs were taken off. I stripped off my tee shirt, and immediately Pete locked the metal collar round my neck and attached it to a very solid chain hanging from the rafters. “Just a precaution”, Jim said, ” ….in case you feel like bolting. And, anyway it will enhance the feeling of being under someone else’s control, won’t it?” It certainly did.

I began to wonder what I was in for. The leg irons were removed and off came socks, shoes, jeans and underwear. So there I was bollock-naked. My wrists were then put in leather cuffs and the cuffs chained to opposite walls of the room, causing my arms to be outspread. I was certainly not going to be able to bolt! Then Jim said “As you were so fascinated by the waders and oilskin coat, we have a treat in store for you”, and Pete produced the waders. He helped me on with them, in fact he put them on me almost without any help from me! They came up tight into my crotch and the cool rubber came into contact with the hard I had well on by then. They were then firmly fixed by a strap from the top of each wader round the back of my neck. I could move my legs around a bit, smoothly massaging my cock but my legs were well and truly imprisoned in the waders. Leather ankle cuffs were tightly fixed around the waders, and they, in their turn, were chained to the opposing walls, keeping my feet well apart, and the waders’ cool rubber away from my cock. A bit unkind, I thought. All the way through this process, from the word ‘go’ I had never been in a position where I was free of any restraint whatsoever. When I thought about it, I was always chained or restrained in one way or another. Jim had obviously thought this through very carefully to ensure that his ‘victims’ were never out of his control for a second.

Perhaps they were now going to put that heavy, hot, somewhat erotic smelling oilskin coat on me next? No! They were not. My clothes were put into one of the grey lockers after a heavy leather jacket had been taken out of it. My clothes were locked away, and the key placed in a small glass topped box on a nearby table. That jacket looked interesting. It was like a very heavy motor cycle jacket, but there were lots of straps and D rings. What was it? I was soon to find out.

Pete undid the leather wrist cuff on my right wrist. Strange, he seemed to know the drill very well. Jim had sorted out the leather jacket by now and was offering it up to me. I thought he had got it back to front at first. Then it dawned on me. “Oh, God”, I thought “It’s a straitjacket, and it looks seriously tough and formidable” My cock nearly burst. Pete guided my right arm down inside the sleeve: it didn’t come out at the wrist end. It was sealed up and had a buckle attached. I was so firmly restrained at neck, ankles and left arm that resistance would have been pointless although for a moment I did think about it. I then thoroughly understood what Jim had said previously about ‘bolting’. I couldn’t have. I was entirely, completely and hopelessly under the control of Jim and Pete. I couldn’t in any way resist, or prevent them doing anything they wished. I was momentarily cross, then momentarily I despaired. Then, as they pulled the jacket further up and applied the wrist cuff over the straitjacket sleeve I was all anxious and in a hurry to get into this jacket and to see how it felt. The wrist cuff was still attached to the right wall so I had little movement in that area.

Then Pete undid the left wrist cuff. Jim offered up the straitjacket sleeve and we repeated the performance. My arms were now in both sleeves and outspread, anchored to the opposite walls of the room. This gave ample free material in the jacket for Jim to pull it right up onto me. He fastened, tightly, two straps under my crotch: he buckled tight the stand up collar and tightened the straps all the way down the back. It was tight and restrictive but it hugged me nicely, almost reassuringly. I knew I’d have great difficulty even to squirm in this heavy leather contraption. Then I felt Jim (or was it Pete?) doing something with the straps behind me, accompanied with clicking noises not unlike padlocks. Odd? Now I thought the next move would be to draw my arms tight round me and fasten them.

Yes that was obviously what they were going to do because both the wrist cuffs were removed. I was hardly free; my ankles were still secured and I had the heavy metal collar and chain on me still. So I waited for them to cross my arms. But no. Jim came up behind me and said. “Arms behind your back”, and when I had put them there he put the oilskin coat on me, over the straitjacket sleeves. He pulled it up on the shoulders, pulled it tight round me and just managed to get the front buttoned up, and the collar buckled. This was going to make things hot. Didn’t it just!

Next thing a harness was being put on me, and drawn very tight. It too seemed to have a profusion of straps and ‘D’ rings, and again two straps went under my crotch. Eventually it was all in place. My cock was bursting again and the combined effect of the straitjacket, the coat, and the suspension harness (for such it was) had brought my cock back into contact with the rubber of the waders.

My arms were then crossed, straps were threaded through ‘D’ rings on the harness to prevent or hamper me trying to get my arms up and over, or down. The straps were pulled fairly tight, drawing the straitjacket sleeves snugly around me. Then Pete stood in front of me and gave me a great bear hug! I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. I enjoyed having Pete so close to me, ‘invading’ my personal space in a way, but welcomed into it. I could smell him for the first time, intermingled with the smell of the oilskin coat. Ooh…aah! And having his strong arms around me, pulling my elbows together made me feel very safe and secure, even though he was tightening me into a straitjacket! Jim pulled the arm straps even tighter whilst good old Pete hugged me. (After that, my relationship with Pete was much closer and warmer. He had talents I had hitherto overlooked!)

My ankle straps were then released and a bar with a leg iron at each end was applied – it was a bit of a struggle to pinch in the thickness of the waders, but they went! The irons were quite snug, but at least my feet were a little closer together and a bit more comfortable. Jim then used a winch on the wall to lower a crossbar from the rafters on a wire rope. Clips on the bar were attached to the suspension harness and the wire rope drawn up to make it just taut. There was no slack to allow me to move beyond a few inches in any direction. The, thank goodness the heavy metal collar was removed. Instead, Jim enveloped my head in a heavy leather hood, with several straps on the outside. There were no eye holes and only a grommet to breathe through. It was very dark and tight fitting. Quickly the laces at the back were drawn even tighter and a zip pulled down over them and I heard a padlock being clicked into place. I didn’t at first like this very much; I wondered how I could continue to breathe. Jim hugged me tight and encouraged me to breathe slowly and deliberately. I was reassured and after a little while I got the knack. In fact the hood was really quite comfortable, at least till Jim started to adjust the straps to different tensions. One around my eye level, one around the mouth area, and one under my jaw and over the top of my head. They could all be tightened severely or loosened off. The sensations created were mind-blowing, especially the one that clamped the jaw dead tight, meaning that I couldn’t even separate my clenched upper and lower teeth. After that little demonstration Jim loosened them off but he tightened the wire rope a little more. Not enough to lift me off the floor or to go tip toe, but enough to make me stand erect (in two senses!) The tension also meant that the suspension harness hugged my body more closely than ever.

Jim was fussing, making metallic noises over where the winch was. I tried to guess what he was doing. I had noticed previously that the winch had a ratchet device to keep the tension held and that there was a strange extra bar with a hole in it. I heard the click of a heavy padlock: then I got it. The ratchet could be padlocked in position so that it could not be slackened off by anyone not meant to do it!

Jim came over and said “Ah well, it’s a nice summer’s evening so I’m going out for a spin on the bike. You will stay here for the next two or three hours, or so. Ha-ha. Pete will be somewhere around but don’t you try to persuade him to release you. He can’t entirely, anyway, because the keys to the locker, the straitjacket, the winch and the hood are all in a box which he can get into in an emergency. I could come back at any time and I would NOT like to find you loose!”

So, I thought that was what the glass topped box was for; and that the clicking behind me had been the back straps of the straitjacket being padlocked in place. Pete could break the glass and get to the keys if absolutely necessary, but it would give the game away if there was no emergency!

I was in a fix! I heard at least Jim leave the room. I had no idea if Pete was still there. Shortly afterwards I heard the motor cycle depart. Then I realised that I had quite often seen Pete on Jim’s pillion and for a moment I almost panicked at the thought that Pete had gone on the bike too. Perhaps he had, and all this business with the keys was a ‘blind’? The thought was delicious, really…… there was I hapless, helpless and hopeless with a terrific hard on…… and alone?

 

Chapter 4

 

I was standing in Jim’s wonderful playroom. I was in waders, straitjacket, an oilskin coat over the top, in leg irons and a suspension harness, hooked to a taut wire rope. There was a very solid hood padlocked over my head which blotted out all light and a great deal of the sound. Jim had said I could be there for two or three hours. Did he really mean that? He’d always been a straightforward guy and I suspected that he really did mean it. He had also said that Pete (his mate) would be around, but I had heard no sound to suggest he still was. Had I been abandoned?

I tried to shift a little: it was indeed a very little. I could move my feet an inch or two. The oilskin coat was making me very hot indeed, but I did need to see if I could begin to struggle free. So I pulled on the straitjacket sleeves. No slack. I tried to bend over a little and to get the sleeves over my head, but the harness prevented me bending forward more than an inch or two. I tried lifting my arms up but the ’D’ rings and other fixings prevented it; and, anyway the strap between the sleeve ends was so very tight there was no chance of that happening. What I did discover was that I could move my elbows and upper arms just a shade. So I tried to get a little slack that way and ended up sort of flapping my arms like some demented chicken. After doing this for a bit I had worked up a considerable heat and the oilskin coat’s waterproofing was getting warm and giving off its strong smell again. I don’t know that there was anything particularly erotic in the smell itself. But because I had been restrained in the coat and had developed a good strong hard at that time, perhaps the associated smell may have had a stimulating effect on me. It did seem so to me. Anyway, I liked that smell. Despite the heat it generated I still continued to ‘flap’ so that it caused little puffs of warm waterproof-smelling air to come up from the coat.

Then suddenly I felt my right upper arm being very strongly gripped. It had to be Pete: he was strong. He slipped a strap round my bicep. Why? That would do nothing in particular. Then one was put around my left bicep. I was soon to discover what was going on, as those two straps were pulled together by a third behind my back. My upper arms were now pinioned tightly to my body. I couldn’t ‘flap’ any more: in fact I couldn’t move my arms at all! Those straps applied to the straitjacket gave it an altogether more restrictive and more secure feeling. It was a different feeling somehow, and the sense of helplessness was increased. And struggle as I might I could move no part of my upper body other than my head. I could, however, just wriggle my knees a little, despite the tautness of the suspension harness.

So, fool that I was, I did wriggle my knees a bit. Really, I suppose it was to avoid being in one position too long. Pete saw this and without speaking, and indeed almost noiselessly buckled a thigh restraint around my right thigh, well up. It drew in the upper part of the wader, tight to my thigh. He then fastened it, I would fancy, to the right hand wall, drawing it tight so that my thigh was pulled outwards. Similar treatment followed to my left thigh. Result, total inability to move my legs, and, because the tops of the waders had been effectively sealed off, even more heat in that area!

I should have learned my lesson and stood stock still, even if it was to be for Jim’s “two or three hours”. But I didn’t. As my head was the only part of my body now that I could move at all, the temptation was too great. And I had reckoned that having heard no noise at all for a bit, that Pete had left me alone again. Well, he hadn’t! After just a few movements a clip of some sort was attached to a ‘D’ ring on the hood close to my right ear, and then fixed, I think, to the chain or rod that held my suspension harness to the suspension bar. Not good. The same on the other side There was still a little movement though, and I explored it. Which caused Pete to tighten the fastenings somehow and my head became quite immoveable, and the hood pressed in on me even more.

So there I was so immoveable and fixed. I really was very tightly restrained. I was totally unable to do anything at all except wait. And wait. And wait….. perhaps for the next three hours?

Then after a bit Pete came and put his arms around me, standing behind me and speaking quietly into my ear. He asked if I was enjoying things. I said “Yes”. He gently caressed me and said he was, too. He said he liked controlling someone else. In ordinary life, he said, he was always doing things for others but was never the leader. He seemed never to be selected for the star role. It was always ‘Good old Pete, he’ll do it if you ask him’ Here in Jim’s playroom, he said, he found ‘another’ Pete who could be in control and make decisions for others. Through the hood I tried to say that I didn’t really understand; I’d never thought of him as being downtrodden or not a positive person. Quiet maybe, but not indecisive.

This seemed to make him come alive suddenly. He said that people didn’t generally think of him taking the initiative, but he could, and he’d prove it. So he did: very positively.

I thought that there was very little else that could be strapped pinioned or tightened. I was wrong, I had forgotten the hood, and the straps on it! Pete very forcibly but not roughly tightened the strap around my eyes, then the one around my mouth (which still enable me to breathe readily enough). Pete said “You see. Do you accept that I am really in control and can be decisive?” As best I could I said “Yes.Yes. I believe you”. He then said “Well we’ve been acquainted a long time but what I want to know is whether you regard me as a friend.” I replied “Pete, I’ve known you for years; we’ve never been close, but I’ve always been friendly to you – as most people have.” “Yes, yes…” Pete said “.. that is the trouble. Friendly but never friends” I answered “I am so sorry, Pete, that you feel like that. I can’t believe that you can be without friends.” “Except for Jim I really don’t have a friend, and I don’t seem good at developing friendships” said he. I hardly knew how to reply, I was so sad for him. He continued “I have always admired you, and I want to know firstly if you trust me, and then if you regard me as a friend.” I blurted out “Well you damn fool of course I trust you. I would hardly have come here with Jim and you if I hadn’t trusted you both, would I?” Pete replied, and I sensed he was a bit choked up,”Thanks, but are we friends. Are we?” I said to Pete “Of course, of course. How can you trust a person without friendship developing?” I knew that was a bit trite and not altogether true but he seemed to accept it.

Then he said “As we are friends, and you trust me so much, we’ll have some fun together, now” I thought just for a fleeting moment that Pete was going to be vindictive to me for not saying (untruthfully) at the outset that I was his friend. But no: I’d told him, I think, just what he wanted to hear.

So we played. The first thing he did was to tighten very very severely that strap around my jaw. My teeth were tightly clenched and the sensation along with the other two straps was wonderful; and with all the other restraints just heightened that feeling of being utterly under the control of another man. Then very skilfully and caringly he tightened and loosened the other straps in various combinations, along with the pinion straps on my arms, and the fixtures on the hood. This guy could play someone under restraint like a musical instrument.!

I had, truly, always liked Pete. Most people did, but now I was beginning to get really close to him and respect him.

His ministrations had made my cock near bursting, and it became very obvious, I am sure. Standing behind me and placing his strong arms around me, with his strong capable hands he operated so skilfully on my cock that he gave me just the relief and satisfaction that I needed. It was joy in itself and joy to be with him. When I came down from my ‘high’ he loosened off many of the straps and restraints, but, of course, he could not release me.

 

Chapter 5

 

Having had an orgasmic experience at the hands (literally) of Pete I was left standing, heavily restrained in Jim’s playroom.

Pete had gained a new friend, and he too was on a high. In fact a new bond of trust and friendship had developed between us. But I was still restrained and Pete was not able to release me. It was Jim who would do that on his return from his motor bike ride.

I should explain here why I think Pete was so overjoyed to have gained a friend in me. He was a good sort, big, strong, pleasant, and basically a happy guy. But he had never made friends easily and was “suffering” because he thought he’d missed out. Apparently he had regarded me as the sort of person he could never hope to be friends with. True, my father had been very well off and we lived in one of the largest and most important houses, and owned much property, in the neighbourhood. My parents had maintained high standards and might appeared to have been ‘stand offish’, I had always mixed easily and readily with everyone in the village and had never had a strong view of social divisions. Nevertheless, Pete (whose parents had been poorly off) seemed to have had a stronger sense of class than ever I did. Once we had ‘jelled’ in the unusual circumstances of Jim’s playroom we both found that we had discovered a kindred soul, as it were. And I came to find out that Pete suffered a kind of delusion that no-one would want to be friends with him. Jim and I had to alter that attitude somehow as Pete was essentially a fine person.

So there was I trussed up and not able to move, with Pete to ‘keep an eye’on me in Jim’s absence. I really was quite dependent on Pete. In fact Jim was not away for more than about two hours in total. And, on his return, he found Pete and me in deep conversation about our sexual preferences and about my new-found interest in bondage and restraints.

“H’mm, I thought you two might get on”, he said. “That’s why I contrived our little fun and games and left you two together. I have perfect faith in Pete and knew you’d be perfectly safe with him”. As Jim slowly, very slowly and deliberately released me he said that he had often thought that I might enjoy his playroom, but had never before the ‘body in the apple store’ incident been able to find a way into the situation. The chance reference to the oilskin coat had been his opportunity and he had seized it. It seemed that as a youth he had had the same thoughts about being fitted ‘scarecrow-like’ into the coat with his arms outstretched.

He wanted to know if I had enjoyed this, my second, experience; and I said I had. Of course I had and my appetite was whetted for more. By then I had been released to the extent that I had on just the waders and the straitjacket with the arms not fastened. I expected him to release the back straps and let me out. He didn’t. He took hold of those straps and fastened me again, very securely, into the jacket with Pete once again helping by compressing my elbows. I had a chain and a manacle attached to my ankle, and was left to sit on the bondage chair, chained to it.

Then, strangely Jim produced another straitjacket, perhaps even more forbidding than the one I had on and he put a very willing Pete into it. He then brought us face to face, both standing. Close leg irons were put on linking my right ankle to Pete’s left and vice versa. We each had a leather collar with ‘D’ rings put on us and locked. My arms were unfastened, put through the side loops on Pet’s straitjacket and round the back of him. Other straps were attached and drawn tight behind my back; I was left hugging Pete. Then the same happened to him, and he was hugging me, with his arms secured by lengthened straps. Small lengths of chain applied to our collars pulled us together so that we were cheek to jowl. My leg chain was unfastened and we were guided stiffly, walking like automata towards the padded cell! Once inside Jim eased us to the floor. Not an easy job with Pete and I unable to bend our knees overmuch, and me hampered by waders. But down we went on one side. We could just move a little but it was far from comfortable. Jim slammed the door shut and turned off the dim blue light.

Pitch darkness. We wriggled around a little to get more comfortable but we were attached to each other like Siamese twins. And we were very close: each of our mouths was close to the other’s ear. and our cheeks inevitable brushed. We both had the most incredible hards on, and despite the fact that we could both fit ourselves between the other’s legs the tightness of the straitjacket arms and the leg irons prevented any real activity short of a minimum amount of rubbing. This was a devilish and frustrating arrangements of Jim’s. Pete and I spent quite a bit of time like that, and I felt particularly secure with Pete’s arms around me. We both enjoyed each other’s proximity and we both had occasional little struggles to try to escape – without any success. Between sharing confidences, holding each other tight, and part dozing off, we certainly cemented our friendship. How, when we met in future, could we do other than remember the close physical contact we had experienced that night, and be ‘easy’ in each other’s company. I think as time passed we both fell into that lovely reverie where nothing is real and everything borders on fantasy. So that when the light was turned on and Jim came to release us we almost resented our release.

We showered together, behaving like two schoolboys, soaping each other intimately and splashing around. Then, having dressed we both joined Jim in the house for a wonderful early breakfast he had prepared for us. I don’t know whether I was tired or just relaxed. I think the evening and night had never before passed so quickly and pleasurably. I had made new intimate friends whom I knew I could trust totally, and I went home happy, looking forward to some of the other delights Jim said he had in his ‘wardrobe’. He had kept them carefully out of sight and would not be drawn into giving the slightest hint of what they were. He did however lend me a pair of rigid handcuffs to “play” with at home, explaining to me how careful one needed to be to ensure that the keyholes were kept accessible when one applied them to one’s self!

 

To be continued …

 

Metal would like to thank Kiggle for writing this story and The Warden for sharing it.

 

 

 

 

One thought on “Rural Pursuits – Parts 1 to 5”

  1. Certainly the most polite piece of erotic writing ever.

    Yet, that in itself gives it certain power.

    I stumbled onto this almost a decade after its writing.

    I am curious as to where Kiggle is today and what he’s writing.

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