Eight Days in a Binding Contract

Sir Micheal tells me to take a nap on my mattress, he’ll wake me when its time to get ‘ready’. For what I am not offered. After a short nap, I am told to take a shower and shave. He’s headed out to pick up ‘Chinese’ for dinner. We will eat it when he gets back. He reminds me to keep my hands off myself.

I am done before he gets back, so I sit on the edge of his bed naked waiting. When I hear him pull up, I decide to kneel by his bedroom door and hold out in my two hands a riding crop that was hanging from his pegging bench. When he enters the house, I hear him walk into the kitchen and put down the bags, then walk down the hallway to retrieve me. He sees me offering myself and he says, “Nice touch, now get up and let’s eat or I will use that on you.” The Chinese food was as good as the pizza was, delicious and plentiful. He did make a sarcastic comment that it was because of his training I was able to get my mouth around the egg roll.

While eating he let me know his plans for the evening. He was going to take me to Hillcrest tonight. I’ve heard a lot about Hillcrest from Sir Michael before when he boasts about living in San Diego. It’s a neighborhood north of downtown that is San Diego's LGBTQ+ center of activities. There is an array of bars, restaurants, coffee houses, boutiques, unique shops, as in adult shops, and even bathhouses. Sir and his friends frequent it a lot. He said we will take a leisurely walk down University Avenue, the main throughfare of Hillcrest and then meet up with his buddies at one of the boy’s favorite LGBTQ bars.

He has me clean up our dishes and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. I am sent to the bedroom where he ‘will dress me for the evening’. I’m still naked of course. He tells me to put a pair of my white socks on. Then to stand in the center of the room and to put my arms down at my sides, palms against my upper legs. And in a flash, he starts to bind me in the black industrial stretch wrap.

Just as he had done on Wednesday he starts at the middle of my back and captures my arms as he wraps around my chest and returns around to my back. Why am I being bound like this if we’re headed out for the evening? I don’t ask and he’s not providing any explanation. The first full circle around me and my arms are trapped, pressed against my sides again. Now well practice at it, he circles slightly moving downward, my elbows now locked against me, then around again and the forearms are captured then the hands. As he goes downward, he makes sure each rotation is smooth against my body and tight. This time when he rounds my hips, he keeps my dick and balls free of the plastic. He maneuvers it so they are trap between and sticking through to spins of wrap. He then bunches the wrap together into a pseudo rope wrapping it around the base of my scrotum and shaft and pulls it tight like a lasso and then spreads the wrap wide again as he continues down. Another change is after he drops below my butt he wraps around just my right upper leg securing my hand against it, He makes three circles around it and goes back up with the wrap around my waist and heads back down the left leg for three circles of my hand and leg. It’s then back up to my chest and up to my shoulders. At my shoulders he loops over them crisscrossing my back and chest also about three or four times to finish off his tie. He has bound my arms to my sides very effectively. He has also tied my dick and balls so the stands out a bit in front of my legs, my legs, head, and neck are free. He cuts the roll free of me and is done with putting on the wrap. Now he removes some. With the safety scissors, he pieces a hole through the wrap and then cuts a circle about an inch in diameter around my right nipple. After discarding the layers of plastic, he pulls and twists my nip. “These always should be available for pleasure.” He was without a doubt talking about his pleasure not mine. He then does the same cutting free and twisting of the other teat.

I can’t move my arms an inch and I love that restriction. I do take pleasure in being secured in wrap, and I can’t fully describe it, but it sexually stimulates me. My arms are fixed to my sides, but rest of me is mobile. He then picks up my jeans, holds them down by my feet and tells me to step in them, one foot at a time. and he pulls the jeans up my legs and over my hips. He maneuvers my package to sit within the pants, buttons and zips the jeans up. He doesn’t provide a belt. The way I am wrapped my hands are now covered and hidden by the pants and reside just behind where my jean’s front pockets are located. With my dick and balls wrapped the way they are they are pronounced in my jeans, a look like a male ballerina in tights from the front as his handling of me and my bound arms has given me a slight erection. He shows me my leather dog collar, then straps and buckles it around my neck. He finishes my dressing by arranging a flannel shirt over my shoulders and around me, then buttoning it up the front less the top two buttons. My arms of course are not within the sleeves which simply hang down my sides. He walks me over to a mirror and says, “See, not too noticeable.” And I finally get it, sometimes I’m a bit slow on the uptake, he’s taking me out in public bound and collared. And he’s right, I wouldn’t immediately drawl attention, but if someone was really looking, they could tell something was up.

Big time mixed emotions. I know the chance of someone seeing me here and knowing me is extremely low. But it still scares me. I’ll be embarrassed. This is my private fantasy, I’m not ready to share it with the world. I stand here as Sir Michael gets ready, he sends a few text messages and says, “Let’s go”. He puts my slip-on shoes on and to finish my outfit, he puts a front-button sweater on me with the sleeves draped over my shoulders and tied in a cross knot in the front, which further hides my bound arms. I can walk without issue, but if I trip there is nothing to stop my face from slamming into the ground. Getting into the jeep takes effort without arms but with his help I am in and seat-belted to the seat.

It is early Friday evening when we reach University Avenue. Still light out, but it is setting. I wish for rapid darkness. After finding a parking space, which is not easy as this is a hopping area at the start of the weekend. I need assistance again to get out of the car, but I’m now on the sidewalk. Sir Michael says to me, “I have a leash for your collar but I’m not sure I want to use it. Let’s walk some and I’ll decide later. We begin to walk, with Sir right next to me with his one hand and arm around my waist. To the casual observer in this neighborhood, we look like two gay men on a date. I’m looking dead straight forward, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Sir on the other hand is in his elements, he’s checking out everything around us, especially the other men. Hey, stop that, I’m your date.

Over the course of the next 30 to 45 minutes things are uneventful. We looked in shop windows. He sat down on a bench for a couple of minutes. He pointed out sights, such as the apparently famous towering Pride flag which he tells me is the starting point for the annual San Diego LGBTQ parade in July. Sir Michael, a conservative, doesn’t typically attend. We did run into people he knew twice, so he stopped and chatted. He introduced me as his friend Bobbie, in for the week visiting him, but nothing was said about my situation, although I know they noticed I had no arms. If they had picked up on that I was bound, I’m sure they had questions because Sir Michael isn’t known for being a bondage guy. I certainly did not look or act like I was in trouble or there unwillingly. Many things that if observe in the straight world would bring comment at a minimum, in the gay world I believe things are accepted for what they are, no questions are asked. I’m not necessarily happy with the situation I am in, as my face is exposed. I would have been happier hooded, but this isn’t the place for such exhibitions, that stuff is more suited for the Folsom Street Fair in San Fransisco.  

Sir Michael gets a text and says to me, “Come on, time to head to the bar, some of my good friends are there and want to meet you.” He elects to now put me on a leash, and we head off to a bar on N Park Way, about a block away from University Avenue. He tells me this is a leather bar. “Nice, friendly, reasonable priced drinks. You’ll like it, it’s your kind of bar,” he says with a smile. It is not one of the places he goes to often, but he has been there on occasion. It is a hangout for some of his friends though and at their suggestion, he picked it because among other things, it caters to gay men with my leather kink. I am still nervous; I hope it’s a dark bar.

It proves to be a popular place. But Sir Michael’s description was a little short in details. I noticed right away this place has a masculine and intimate atmosphere. Apparently, a leather and fetish dress code in encouraged here. All kinds of patrons, but a portion of the crowd is very masculine and muscular. I’m concerned as the men here seem to be there to play. My leash is certainly noticed by some as we walk by. Equal numbers of men in couples as in groups. I see no one else with bound arms. I do see on the side some authentic bondage and dungeon furniture including an ominous looking pillory, much more substantial than the one to which I was secured. No one was using the equipment, and I wasn’t sure if it was for ambiance or customer use. I did not want to find out and was scared stiff that I may soon be secured to it as feature entertainment tonight for the crowd; I’ve read stories, all of them I thought were fiction, but what do I know. Why else was I brought here bound? There certainly seemed like there were men here that would enjoy playing with a bound straight guy for the evening. Turns out that wasn’t the reason I was brought here. I also saw some men playing pool, seemed like a tamer activity to me. With my arms as they are I gathered I would not be shooting a rack either.

We found some of Sir Michael’s friends and the group began chatting. Certainly, a lot of the conversation surrounded me although I was not talked to directly. I was a submissive and they were aware of what that meant and how I should be treated. When we first arrived at the table, he nonchalantly reached below my sweater and unbutton two more of the upper buttons of the flannel shirt I wore and unsnapped the button above the zipper on my jeans. This of course sent nervous shivers down my spine, in these surroundings this would lead to no good. I just stood there, next to Sir, and he and his friends drank beers and conversed. I couldn’t hear all the conversations, but I could tell at times Sir Michael would be asked a question and he would indicate an affirmative answer. Then in a moment or two I would feel some one running their hand over the front of my pants rubbing and groping my dick. Another favorite seems to be to put their hand inside my shirt and tweak or twist my nipple. What is it with gay guys and their fascination with pulling on another man’s nipple? It hurts. Maybe mine are just sensitive due to the week’s abuse. One time someone put their hand down the inside of pants and fondled me. I looked at Sir and he simply said, “It’s ok, he asked, and I said yes. Nobody will notice.” Well, there it was, I was allowed to be touched as long as Sir Michael was alright with it. This is servitude. And nobody seemed to notice. I did see that many of the patrons were affectionate with each other and no one cared or paid attention.

We were there for a while, when after some conversations that I also didn’t hear, Sir Michael said, “Come with me.” I followed, no choice with him pulling the leash, staying as close as I could to him as we moved through the bar. We seem to be heading in the direction of the restrooms. Agan, I see some of the patrons eyeing me up as I passed. I guess Sir Michael needed to go and didn’t want to leave me alone in a strange public place bound as I was. That wasn’t it. We entered the men’s room, and he opened a stall door, guided me in, took the leash off my collar and told me to sit down. Of course, the only place to sit was on the toilet. Wide eyed and concerned I turned around and slowly sat down, in part because of my limitation due to how I was bound and in part because I was scared. I still had my pants on, I know he didn’t want me to use the facilities. As my head is spinning, he pulls out a leather blindfold and puts it over my eyes. He then says, “You remember you asking me about ‘glory holes’, well you are about to experience about as close as I can get you to one.” I had asked him about them a while ago and if he ever seen them for real. Some of the fantasies I create during my self-bondage playing is that I am bound and then force to service unknown men putting their members through holes in the wall. It is one of the ultimate being forced scenarios I have read stories about. I was surprised that it was on the original contract list that Sir wanted me to add to or remove. I didn’t take it off but never dreamed it could happen. Now I am sure I don’t want to experience it. He asks me, “Are you going to need a ring gag to get through this? You bite some of these guys and they’ll beat the shit out of you.” After the mouth ache from the long session I had with the ring gag before, I wanted no part of that, so I quickly responded, “No Sir, I can be good.” Sir Michael then directs, “You are to stay here till I come get you. I’m going back to my friends. If the mood strikes them or any others in this bar, they may come to visit you. You shall service them in any way they want. Treat them as if they were me.” I think I heard him walking away. I call out, “Sir Michael!” but all I hear is the door closing. I don’t know if the stall door is closed. I don’t know if he is watching the outside door to protect me.

I’m going through something like the pain – pleasure thing, but mentally, not physically. I’m experiencing what I think I’ll call anguish – euphoria. I am being put into a severe situation that I both passionately desire and am absolutely repulsed by at the same time. This is one of my greatest BDSM fantasies because there probably is nothing worst that could be forced on me when helpless then servicing a bunch of unknown men. And now this is not only real, but it could also be dangerous and unsafe. He alluded to that I was to service anyone in this bar that wanted it. He doesn’t have health histories on everyone and by the looks of some I saw they wouldn’t pass the blood tests. Just how far is master taking this? I try to concentrate on the euphoria and not the anguish. In my state I forgot about the safeguards in the Contract.

I’m sitting there maybe two to three minutes, listening intently to every sound when I hear the door to the men’s room open and someone walks in, no, its two people. They are chatting, they come in and I hear them peeing in the urinals. Ok, they don’t seem to be here for me. They finish up and leave. Again quiet. Not for long, in another minute the door opens again and someone comes in. They seem to walk up closer to where I am and then stop. A moment there is a knock on the side of stall. “Bobbie, this your stall?” the person asks. For a moment I say nothing, but obviously it’s not Sir Michael’s voice but he knows my name, so he knows Sir Michael. “Yes, sir,” I meekly reply. I heard him open the stall door which told me at least it was closed. I next hear the door close and latch so he must be in here with me. Although it was very quiet, there was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled down. In my darkness I hear, “Mike said you signed a servitude contract with him to sexually serve him and his friends. Well, Mike and I are great friends. He says you’ll do anything I want. Well, for now you can suck me. You make me hard and do a good job and we’ll see where this goes. Now open and let’s get started.” This could be a nightmare, but I’m pushing those thoughts away. I’m ok with what has happened all week in the confines of Sir Michael’s house but now I’m sitting on a toilet in a gay leather bar being told to suck off another guy I don’t know, and I can’t see. Even though this is now becoming electrifying to me, I resist a bit when I feel a hand on the back of my head, and it is pulled till my lips are pressed up against his dick. “Come on Bobbie, it’s OK, you can do it. I have lots of sick fantasies too. Mike has shared yours with me. You’ll be disappointed later if you let this opportunity pass. I know, believe me.” he coached. My mind, in an instant, reasons that my best friend would not set me up to be hurt, this guy is alright, so I opened my mouth.

I wasn’t treated as if this was my first time, but my invader was not brutal either. He just wanted a blow job. I got to it. Now I know from experience there is marvelous things you can do with your tongue and lips and with facial and head movements, but the best is when one adds hand stroking and ball fondling to the mix. I am therefore handicapped in my delivery as I have no hands to make the experience more satisfying and quicker. The faster the climax, the faster my duty will end. Thus, I use my tongue and my lips as best I can. Luckly this seem to be a seasoned veteran in getting blown, so he knows how to move his hips and push in and out to get the best feelings he can. He holds my head firm with his hands and rocks me to help deliver what he wants. He is in no hurry, but the setting we are in dictates a quick conclusion. Hence, he does what he needs to get himself stimulated. He is now hard, really hard, and his pace is imposing. He has been talking to me all along, giving instructions, praise, and commentary as to how he’s doing. I hear him say as he begins taking deeper strokes than he had been and getting very close to being too deep for me, “Get ready, I’m almost there, swallow it all, Bobbie. Uggg!” He holds my head firm but pulls back a bit with his dick. He is still in my mouth and a feel the spurts. I stop all movements, that happens sometimes when you panic. The panic passes quickly, now what do I do? I try pulling my head back to get his dick out of my mouth. But he’s holding fast. He is still pulsing. I can’t tell if more cum is flowing out. He then says “That was really good, I heard that your first time was this week. Lick me clean so I can zip up and give someone else in line a turn.” I’ve already had been on autopilot the last ten minutes or so and I find myself licking his dick clean despite my whole mind focusing on the statement ‘give someone else in line a turn’. I feel my eyes well up as I am mentally switch back to anxiety and don’t know what to do. Sitting where I am is giving me the creeps. It isn’t one of the finest rest rooms I’ve been in.

My first assailant leaves. It’s only a minute or two later when I hear the sounds of the stall door opening and closing and another approaching me. I feel my body shaking. “Hi cunt, you doing, ok? It is good to be with you again. I don’t know if Mike told you, but I was really honored to the first person to cum in your butt. It was a first for me too, that is screwing a sort of ass virgin. Seeing that you have some cum coating your lips I know I won’t be first there, but I would enjoy you sucking me tonight. You ok with that?” Believe it or not, this sincere, honest sounding, frank guy is calming me down at the same time asking to be blow while I am bound and blindfolded on a toilet in a gay bar. And from what he said, I know he’s someone with Sir Michael’s approval and apparently, we are past fuck-buddies. And still while not of clear mind, I open my mouth a lean forward. He hadn’t even unzipped yet. I was comforted in knowing that whoever this was, he hadn’t hurt last time he used me.

He was a bit less aggressive in his head holding and body movements. But like his predecessor, was skilled in doing what he needed to do to pleasure himself with only my tongue and lips. When he finally was ready to let loose, which was considerably longer, he pulled almost out, telling me to hold my tongue out and keep my mouth open, he then laid his dick back down on my tongue and slowly stoked his shaft with his hand and ejaculated slowly and deliberately onto my tongue. He wasn’t a squirter, he was an oozer. In a calming voice, he said, “For a newbie that was great. Now close your mouth.” His dick wasn’t there. Slowly I did what I was told, not quite sure I was going to do with the small pools of cum sitting on my tongue. I then felt him rub the tip of his dick back and forth across my lips, wiping himself as he pumped his dick three or four time to clear and clean it of the remaining semen he had. I sat there a good minute before a just gave up and swallowed. I try to think of each time I had cum in my mouth this week including my own. None were awful or disgusting, but I would not call it tasty or pleasant either. I can get it down, but think if given choice, maybe I rather spit it out. And gargle. As I have written down many times so far, what was pleasing in a very disturbing way was that I had been bound and then forced, at least in mind, to take it and that gives me arousing excitement. I should note that this and all the consumptions of the week never cause my stomach to retch or make it otherwise unsettled.

He had left. How many more in the line? I found out in less than a minute or two. I heard the approach and I got upset again because this was going to be a non-stop affair and I think I am done but I don’t know how to stop it. Do these guys know my ‘red’ safe word? Will they honor it? This time my assailant didn’t say anything. I hear a zipper come down and almost instantly a dick is just against my lips and while very new to this I intuitively respond by opening my mouth. He pushes in just a tiny bit and a hear a chuckle, and he says, “Taste familiar?” It’s Sir Michael and he withdrawals. “No, you don’t have to do me or anybody else. I think you’ve had your fantasy fill for the night, literally.” And there was no more. Sir Michael added, “Come on, let’s head home.” He helps me up, took off the blindfold and we left the restroom leash free. I wish I could have whipped off my lips or had a drink of water. I guess I was still to retain the memories of my ‘glory hole servitude’. Sir Michael said his goodbyes to his six or seven friends still sitting around one of the tables and thanked them in general for making the evening special for me. He did it in such a way that I would not be able to place faces to anyone who had been with me. As we left walking by the dungeon toys on display, he said, “If we make it back here, I’ll strap you to one of those. Doing it on toilets have always repulse me.” Oh really, well let me tell you about…

We drove back home. Sri Michael asked me to just ride quietly and think about tonight’s events. We went inside his bedroom, and he told me to climb up on the massage table and lay on my back which I did with his help. He put a rolled-up towel under my neck and then opened and pulled down my pants. He began to rub my genitals with lube getting me hard quickly. As he did it he said he though I was hitting my limit tonight and he knew it was tough on me mentally, but it was important to find my mental limits just like I found my physical limits under ‘controlled’ conditions with someone who care greatly about me supervising it so that should I seek out this type of gratifications on my own I don’t get in trouble. He added, “By the way, I was standing at the stall door the whole time you were sitting.” This said as he soothingly strokes me to climax and cleans me up with a warm wet towel. What a graduation ceremony.

He then cut me free from the wraps. They came off easier than before as my time in them wasn’t nearly as long this time. I was so dealing with my feeling of being out in public and servicing in public that I didn’t get to enjoy this wrapping as much as I would have liked. Even so, it’s still my favorite method for being bound.

It’s funny how quickly my mind recovers from a sexual exploitation event. It was bedtime and Sir Michael tells me I have a choice of sleeping arrangement this evening because he was so pleased with me. As it was my last night, I could choose from the shower stall, with or without blanket, or the mattress in the bedroom or outside. I responded with, “Sir my choice is to do what brings you pleasure, but if they are equal to you, I would like outside one last time.”  “Ok with me, how would you like to be restrained, wrist cuffs on belt or in front or irons?” “Would it be ok if you restrained me spread eagle? Who knows when I’ll get to do that again. And if I can’t fall asleep, I can sleep on the plane.” So, after a long pee and an even longer gargle, Sir Michael arranged me on top of mattress, put on four cuffs and chained my limbs to the four eyehooks I was forced to install a week ago. He was kind, I was not pulled taut, and while not a lot, there was some play in the chains. He placed a blanket over me, not my wool one, but the comforter. Then he put my pillow under my head and wished me pleasant dreams. And I gazed up at the stars.