By PFC Pfledge
We all remember when we first had an interest in bondage, and the first time we were tied up. You wouldn’t be reading this account if you aren’t interested in being tied up, or tying other guys up. I was first tied up when I was younger, then a number of times during high school, when I was a teenage wrestler. I loved wearing those skin-hugging tights, showing a huge bulge, as my buddies, Steve and Peter, would hogtie me.
In college, I had a lot of bondage at the hands of a local high school senior, ostensibly straight, but who enjoyed tying me up in skimpy Speedos, and being tied up himself, on his knees, to a post in my parents’ basement. When I was in the Marine Corps, and stationed in Hawaii, I was tied up in a tight spread eagle almost every night in the last three months of my enlistment. I also tied up my tormentor, David, many times, too. We wore the smallest possible Speedos in the hot Hawaii climate, and neither of us “noticed” the other guy’s straining bulge and packed, smooth curve of my or David’s crotch.
Around his wrists and hands were leather binders, secured by multiple straps and padlocks. The steel suspension rings on his palms were padlocked to the beam. Round his ankles were another set of straps, but they were not tied off and his feet were loose.
