Eight Days in a Binding Contract

Wednesday morning. After getting my blanket and pillow back I sleep through the night. If Sir Michael had come into the bathroom to pee, I didn’t hear him, and he didn’t wake me. I think he slept in which gave me more shut eye too. And I needed it.

When we woke up, it was back to my normal routine. I’m also given two new directives, the first one unexpected, but not off the wall. I’m asked if I had pissed yet this morning. I had not because I prefer to wait if I can till after my chastity is removed. I say, “No Sir” and he replies “Good. On the hopper you will find a measuring cup. You are to piss in it, not in the toilet. Understand? I was talking to Dr. Ron last night and he’s concerned that you have been restrained and punished so much that you may suffer unknowingly from dehydration. He wants me to check both the color and quantity of your pee. Try to piss as much as you can.” I’m familiar with Dr. Ron. He is a long-time gay friend of Sir Michael. They talk often and play with each other when he comes down from LA. He’s an actual MD, I think his specialty is Internal Medicine, so I know I will be unsuccessful in debating this and I can’t per the Contract anyway.  So “Yes Sir” is my answer.

I am then to come to breakfast. Again, mine is limited to fiber cereal, banana, milk, and my morning pills including the 40 mg dose of Tadalafil. He wants me hard all week. “No chores this morning. I have decided you need a little break. We’re headed to the beach. Get your walking shoes and wallet and let’s go,” he says. My mind is confused though, after the bathroom pee start, I was figuring this was going to be a day of trials and pain, last night he called it ‘my big day’. I’m sent this time without chastity or a plug. This too is good news. As we drive there, I’m told that like our previous walk on Sunday, he was going to back off this morning on the heavy Dom/sub treatment, but I am to still treat him and respond to him with the respect expected from a submissive.

We go to Mission Beech. Mission Beach is a San Diego community built on a sandbar between the Pacific Ocean and Mission Bay. It’s a fantastic place for walking, jogging, swimming, and volleyball.  And all the of the California beech activities are there. Well, I don’t know about surfing because I didn’t see any of that, but maybe the waves were not right that day. There’s a boardwalk with all kinds of activities. It’s great. Parking, which Sir indicated could be a be lousy later in the day, was no problem as it was still morning and a weekday. Sir Michael suggests that we walk some of his favorite trails, then the beach, then stroll the boardwalk and catch lunch there.

Hey, I’m getting lunch today. Whatever he suggests will be what we do, remember I’m the sub, and as such I’m not part of the decision process unless told to be so. I know my place even if we are on a temporary holiday from the hardcore roleplay. We talked a lot as we walked, but not about my circumstances or plans of the week. A lot of talk was about his gay friends. He chatted about his massage business, about some of the customers he already had this week and some that were scheduled to come while I was still here. He talked about the kinks that his friends had. Many of whom I was already familiar with from our weekly chat on the phone. Each including Sir Michael had their fetishes. It’s neat that in the gay world you can enjoy them without ridicule or disgust from your friends. I guess that is why Sir Michael is accommodating and fulfilling my needs and wants.

We sat and enjoyed the local scenery as much as we walked. Sir was man watching, pointing out repeatedly who he thought was hot or would be fun to screw or blow as they walked by. This was a California beach; you didn’t need much imagination as to what these people looked like. That meant I was having a grand time too. There is plenty of good-looking women parading around. None of the women interested Sir, none of the men interested me. That didn’t stop him from constantly teasing me by saying “You want to blow him? Do you want to be screwed by him, I could ask him?” Sir Michael will always remain my best friend ‘Twisted Mike’ at heart.

The closest we got to me, and my bondage fetish was when we were sitting on a bench looking out onto the beach. He asks, “Any desire to be tied down on the beach, waiting for the tide to come in, waiting, waiting, till it rises slowly over you and covers you up with water and you, I guess, drown?  Just how would you do this?” I do know how to secure someone on a sand beach.  And I tell him. “They need to be tied spread eagle with long ropes going the ankles and wrists to the attachment points. The attachments would have to be like ground anchors for dogs. You know, the metal rods that have been bent into a spiral, so they imitate a screw with a point on the starting end and a closed hook loop on the other end. They are then rotated round and round as they screw into the ground or in this case sand. While these go in easy, they do grip the sand much better than a simple rod would. This, combined with the long rope leads lying flat along the sand make it very difficult for the victim to pull themselves free as they have limited leverage against the distant anchors, so the rods stay put. I even confide to Sir that I have a set of these anchors in my basement as one of my reoccurring fantasies that will never happen is to be bound spread eagle naked in my own yard at night just this way. BUT I make it very clear that I have no death wish, and being consumed by the ocean doesn’t do anything but scare me to death. Maybe the sensation that it is happening would be a rush, but only if rescue was without question. Sir Michael is quiet for a while as he ponders my response. Or maybe he has just sighted another hot body.

We finish lunch, it is early afternoon and Sir Michael announces we should head back home and get back at it. And we do. The break is over.