Strand came out to visit me the summer after my trip east. Ostensibly we were going to do some fishing. In actuality, if either of us got a line wet it would be a major surprise. I met him at the Amtrak station twenty miles from my property, we claimed his luggage, loaded it into my old GMC, and started up the two lane into the hills.
We got there a few hours before sundown. Iʼd decided to let him have the sleeping cabin and I would stay in my little travel trailer with the kitchen facilities. I was to be the host so would be making most of our meals. We got his gear stowed and I sent him off to wander around the property while I unpacked provisions and started making supper. We ate outside watching the sun go down behind the ridge and enjoying a cold beer. We decide to hold off on any “fishing” until the next day in deference to his travel fatigue. I showed him the latrine and shower, then left him for the evening.
I awoke early the next day, but he was already up and about. Iʼd forgotten the time difference. My 7:00am was his 10:00am. After breakfast, I took him on a tour of some of my favorite spots. He instantly recognized the clearing where Iʼd staged many of my fantasy photo sessions and backed up against my “tie-up tree” with a smile on his face.
“Itʼs fun to see this place in 3-D after seeing it in so many photos,” he said.
When he looked back at me his eyes got wide. I was holding my replica .38, aimed right at his gut.
“Strip, sucker. All the way.”
He nodded and began removing his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them off to the side.
“You like that tree so much, letʼs get you a little better acquainted with it.”
As he backed up against the rough bark of the tree I retrieved the bag of ropes Iʼd previously left in the clearing. Stepping behind him, I quickly roped up his wrists.
“I really donʼt need to do anything else, Strand. It may be only three or four inches across but that oak is at least fifty years old and it isnʼt going anywhere. Youʼre mine now, mister.”
He nodded happily. “Yep, I guess I am. What are you going to do with me?”
“First thing is to keep you from asking impertinent questions,” I responded as I stuffed a large bandanna in his unresisting mouth and wrapped another one around the back of his neck, holding the first one tightly in place.
Even though he wasnʼt going anywhere until I untied his wrists, I chose to bind him tightly to the tree, using ropes at his chest, waist, thighs, calves, and ankles. Thatʼs what we were here for. I knew from experience the sun would soon be directly on him, so I left.
I returned in a while with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. I picked out another long bandanna and used it to blindfold him, then settled down with my coffee to watch the show.
The day began to heat up and as the sun reached his face I saw the sweat begin to trickle off his bound body.
Poor Strand spent his first morning at my place cooking in the sun. I didnʼt let him loose until lunchtime. He had a tiny bit of sunburn in areas that seldom if ever saw the sun, but seemed in good spirits and had no complaints about the way heʼd been treated so far. I intended to see just how much he could endure, so after lunch I again pulled my trusty toy gun on him and prodded him back to the clearing. He was wearing shorts, socks, canvas sneakers, and a light blue short sleeved shirt. This time I let him stay dressed but told him there had been a drug in his sandwich. He feigned dizziness, and sat on the ground, shaking his head in dismay.
I sat behind him, pulling his arms back and binding them with forearms parallel, ropes wrapped from wrists to elbows. I pushed him onto his stomach, lifted his feet off the ground and bound his ankles and his legs just above the knees. I dragged his bound body to the base of the tree he had been tied to in the morning, rolled him onto his back, pulled his legs up against the tree and tied them there. His back was on the ground, supported by his bound arms. His butt was against the base of the tree and his legs were pointing to the sky and fixed to the tree.
At this point he came out of his drugged stupor. I removed my shoes and socks and used my sweaty socks to gag him. I went back to the trailer for another cup of coffee and my camera. I took several pictures of him, but only left him there for about forty five minutes. After I released him we went back to my trailer for a snack and a “debriefing” I asked how he was doing, he said it was great but I didnʼt have to be so solicitous of him. He also wondered when I was going to have a turn.
“No, no,” I said. “Iʼm the host here. Youʼre the captive. Did you bring a toy gun?”
He shook his head.
“Well there you go then. No gun, no captives. Iʼve got the gun so I get the captive.”
He laughed. “If itʼs okay with you, itʼs sure okay with me.”
We decided to put the ropes away until evening. Strand went for a walk around the property while I worked on some of my drawings and read a little. After supper I suggested we play the mutual self bondage game he had made up. He immediately agreed.
“Only this time, you get the hog tie and I get the frog tie.
“Sure, why not,” he grinned.
Soon enough, we were naked on the floor of the cabin, Strand in a tight self-applied hogtie which I finished off by binding his wrists and arms to his legs. I then bound up my legs heel-to-thigh, put on a blindfold, and cuffed my hands behind me. Strand had hidden the handcuff key and I had hidden the EMT scissors. He couldnʼt get loose without me telling him where to find the shears and I couldnʼt get loose without him directing me to the handcuff key.
We proceeded to wriggle around in our bondage for quite a while. Then I heard the door open and Strand gasped. I knew it wasnʼt housekeeping. Then I realized who it had to be. She had come to me several times while I played self-bondage games. It hadnʼt even occurred to me that she would show up while Strand and I played. As soon as she saw us she burst out laughing.
“What have we here?” she cooed. “A couple bound gentleman, it appears. All trussed up for me! How delightful. An embarrassment of riches, as it were.”
She walked around us, checking out our bondage.
“How did you plan to escape?” she asked at last.
“Keys and shears are hidden,” I answered. “We play to see who gives up first.”
She clapped her hands in glee.
“What fun!” she squealed. “Letʼs do! But somethingʼs missing here, isnʼt it?”
I knew this woman well. I nodded.
“And whatʼs missing here?” she asked in a schoolteacher voice. “Anyone?”
I sighed. “Gags, maʼam. Gags are missing.”
“Very good!” she exclaimed. “Gags are indeed missing. Letʼs start with your friend.
“Whatʼs your name, Maxʼs friend?”
“Strand,” Strand replied. “Strand Ankler.”
“Thatʼs a funny name. Wait a minute. Youʼre the other writer arenʼt you?”
Strand must have nodded.
“Well Strand, youʼre getting the first gag.”
I heard the unmistakeable sound of jeans being removed followed by rustling cloth and a couple grunts from Strand. A moment later two fingers pinched my nose shut. As I opened my mouth to breath, a cloth of some sort was shoved in and tied in place. Ropes were added to my upper arms, and my blindfold was removed.
“Youʼll want to watch this,” she said to me as she rolled Strand onto his back.
She squatted beside him and began running the fingers of her right hand up and down his pulsating cock while her left hand was buried in her own bush. She and Strand began breathing hard and in unison. As his bucking became more frantic she stopped touching him but her left hand remained deep in her own sex. I could smell her from across the room. Straddling Strandʼs chest, she removed his gag and slowly settled herself onto his face. I watched in fascination as he realized what was being asked of him and she began moaning loudly in response to his ministrations. She reached several peaks and then suddenly she made a sharp sound and her eyes and mouth opened wide as she froze. Strangled moans came from her lips as she slowly melted onto his chest.
After a few minutes she regagged him and gingerly stood up.
“Jeez man, this guyʼs good. My knees are still shaking. How long you boys gonna be up here?”
“Mmmmf,” I said.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She reached down and removed my gag.
“Rest of the week,” I croaked.
“Well if you play this game every night, Iʼll surely see you soon.”
And she left.
20.12.11