By convict 975468
Ted was summoned to appear before the local Citizens Council, with a warning to report or be arrested. He wasn’t particularly concerned, but figured he might be confronted about some of his postings online. The worst he expected was perhaps to be harassed and instructed not to continue to post. He decided to show up dressed casually. He wore a nice pair of jeans, a polo shirt, and a light jacket.
As he approached the council office in the courthouse, he was stopped by a man in an intimidating black uniform with silver buttons and a silver insignia on his collar. The officer ordered Ted to stop and demanded his driver’s license. He examined the license and consulted a list attached to a clipboard. He then clipped Ted’s license to the board and told Ted to stand facing the wall with his toes touching it and his hands clasped behind his head. When Ted objected, three other officers dressed in the same uniform appeared – each wielding a nightstick. Ted was told to be silent and face the wall as ordered. Realizing he didn’t have much choice, he did what he was told. Ted didn’t realize that this was but the first of many humiliations he would suffer.
Ted, 35, at 6 feet and 185 pounds, black hair, brown eyes, was still buffed and in great shape. He had had to struggle most of his adult life. Even though many jobs were being shipped overseas, Ted was lucky and at 18 got a good job at a cabinet factory. He married his high school sweetheart, April. They were able to buy a nice house, and in time had two kids. Things were going great till the cabinet plant shut down.
I entered the playroom wearing nothing but a tight skimpy Speedo – and an old sweatshirt. The sweatshirt was small and hung above my waist, so the bulge in the front of my speedo was plainly visible below it. I did this because – in my mind – feeling covered above concentrates the sense of vulnerability I feel onto my Speedo below, and on my bare legs…. it makes me feel naked vulnerable and HORNY. I felt the sensation of near nakedness below my covered torso, and this sense of vulnerability was intense because I knew what was in store for me, especially after seeing a spreader bar with clips on either end, hanging from a chain from the ceiling in the center of the darkish room. I had entered the lair of a leather uniform wearing man I know to be a sadist, to whom I had freely admitted I wanted to experience the sense of complete and utter helplessness with, while indulging in my fetish of wearing a skimpy Speedo. I was walking into a trap of my own making.