THIS IS NOT FICTION

So here I am doubled up, a bar under my knees, my arms under the bar, both tied to the bar. I am unable to move and not at all comfortable. There's a canvas bag over my head and I've lost any perception of where exactly I am in the room, this is after nearly 8 hours of being captured, stripped, searched and interrogated. My captor pulls my head and legs closer together, I grunt with pain, he whispers in my ear "Prisoners in Vietnam spent months like that and you are whinging after only half an hour." At that point it was like a door opening in my mind, and all the pain went away, I thought 'I am going to deal with this, I can do it and I will not let this guy get the better of me'. It was a moment that was very powerful and something that I did not expect.

At this point you are probably wondering what sort of trouble I had got myself into, where in the world I was, some third world country with a bad human rights record? Well no it was an innocuous terraced house in South London, being given a taste of what the Army does to train soldiers to resist interrogation. I had come here of my own free will and allowed myself to be subjected to 8 hours of being tied up in various positions of increasing discomfort and be on the receiving end of some the techniques used by the professionals. So how had I come to be here? I had asked myself the same question, and to be honest I don't really know, it just happened. That may sound strange, but it is true. If you had said to me as little as 2 months previous that I would be allowing myself to be given a going over by one of the Army's trained interrogators I would have said you were mad. It is the latest part of a journey of discovery, one that has lasted over twenty years and has taken some strange twists and turns along the way.

The story begins when I am in my late teens, and I started developing and interest in Rubber. The Sunday papers used to have discreet adverts from people like Weather Vain and South Bucks Rainwear advertising for "Rubber Mackintoshes". These adverts interested me and started me on a journey of discovery. I can remember saving up my first wages and travelling to Weather Vain in Richmond (they are still there) and buying my first pair of Latex pants, and the trips to the various Government surplus shops in London, like Laurence Corner and Silvermans and buying various waterproof and immersion suits.

Then I replied to an advert in the Exchange and Mart. It was a private ad and had loads of stuff for sale, Dry suits, gas masks, waterproof suits and more. I plucked up courage and phoned up, and then visited. I met a very friendly, warm couple, who now after fifteen years, are good friends, and who have given me some guidance along my journey. I came away from that first visit with an Avon Dry suit in black rubber, it was something I had dreamed of, and now I owned one. The two guys I'd bought it off were very keen to meet again, and I maintained contact, at arms length, and visited from time to time and tried on a few of the things in their collection. I had never had any physical contact with another man, and did not wish for it, but I was happy to get dressed up and enjoy sensations the gear produced, and was happy that they got something out of the meeting and seeing me in the stuff. I would have dearly loved to have shared my fetish with my various girlfriends, but was too shy to risk broaching the subject, so it remained my own little secret, which I was happy to keep to my self.

After about 5 years of occasional meetings with the gay couple I eventually had my first overtly sexual experience with another man, nothing too heavy, just a groping session whilst we were both dressed in some rubber outfits. I left later that day wondering what the hell I had done and whether or not I was Gay. I was convinced that I was not, I had no physical attraction to another man, but only a sexual attraction to the rubber gear he was wearing. The guy was just a clothes horse. This may sound cruel, but I don't mean it that way, he is a very genuine guy. A year or so later I met a guy, again through the Exchange and Mart who was also selling some gear, and I ended up giving him a blowjob, while he was dressed as a Policeman. Again, the image was the thing that turned me on, but this time I was really worried. I had taken a step further down the road and was really beginning to worry about my sexuality. I managed to discuss this with a friend I had grown up with, and trusted, but he was not sure what was going on. I decided that I knew my own mind, and that I had no attraction to the person, only the image that they portrayed. The two gay guys I had met years previously had acknowledged this fact, so I decided that I would carry on broadening my horizons, and worry about the emotional bit later.

My tastes were being broadened, I gradually realised that all sorts of rubber suits, wellies, waders, gasmasks etc.. held some attraction as well as a growing interest in police uniform, although I had not yet purchased any police kit. As time moved on I started to travel further afield, my work as an engineer allowed me to buy gear without arousing any suspicions, it was not unusual for me to have to wear wellies or waders in my work, so why not buy the sort that turned me on. Some people thought that I must go to work and be turned on at the thought of wearing stuff that would turn me on, but no I always segregated the two, sure it was nice to wear a pair of rubber waders, but I was always focused on work. There was a time and a place for everything. I managed to build up a reasonable collection and kept on adding to the collection as time and money allowed.

About 8 years ago I answered another ad in the good old E&M, this started a new friendship with a guy who had similar tastes, and he could get hold of some of the gear. I bought a lot of new gear, especially the Firemans kit, which I was becoming interested in. We had a few things in common and our friendship flourished, he was gay and very experienced. We have never had any contact physically and he was happy for me to enjoy myself. He tried hard to convince me that I was gay and reasoned that the images that attracted me were almost exclusively Male, and that I never had any hankering to get involved with women in the gear. This was not strictly true, I had fairly old fashioned views about sex with women, and believe that it should be part of a relationship and not just something that you do for kicks. The fetish that turned me on was separate and was impersonal. Although I would have loved to have involved several of my girlfriends in my interests, I knew that it would never be, as I could not risk them possibly publicising my secret, I was happy to leave it that way.

As I continued to broaden my horizons, the single guy continued to try and convince me that I was gay. This was becoming disturbing as I was beginning to try out more things, and with the Internet available now, my horizons were being broadened at an exponential rate. I was seeing loads of new things, some of which I had heard about, some I had seen, but not wanted to try and quite a few things that I had not seen or heard about. I was following up all sorts of leads on the Net now, and the vast majority of the websites that had stuff that interested me were gay oriented. Again that niggled away in my mind. I tried to find sites that were more heterosexual, but they tended to be mainly bored models posing or stuff that did not interest me. So I was stuck with the option of looking for the websites that interested me, but had a gay slant. The gay people that I knew looked at the sites in a slightly different way, they looked at the guys in the gear, whereas I just looked at the gear and the images that the people portrayed. The sight of a policeman or fireman was a very attractive image, the person that was behind that image was immaterial, just as long as the image was credible.

With one person still trying to convince me that I was gay, my stubbornness and self-knowledge kept me believing that I was not gay. Other people that I knew, and whose views I respected agreed and said that they could see my point of view. However I was still experimenting with new things with this one gay friend. My reasoning was, if he enjoys that so much, I'll try it once just to see what he gets out of it. Some things I tried I liked others I disliked, this was starting to make me wonder about whether I was not facing facts, just kidding myself along with everyone else.

The next big step on the journey came when I was talking about various websites and gear in general to somebody who said that a friend of his was writing a story and would like a bit of background information about the plot and some of the technical details. The story was about a fire-fighter, who was tentatively interested in bondage, and was on his own journey of discovery. He wanted someone who was experienced to cast their eye over the story, and I'm a trained fire-fighter (among other things).

The author e-mailed a copy of the manuscript, which I read, and found very interesting, I rang the intermediary and said that the story was very much on the mark, but there were a few things that I felt I could possibly give some advice on. The friend suggested that I contact the author direct and have a chat with him, which, I did. After a brief phone conversation I had made an appointment to visit him and discuss things face to face; which for me was a big step into the unknown.

I travelled up to London to discuss the fine points of a story on the voyage of discovery of a straight man who was interested in Bondage with other men. I have never been into bondage, I had seen plenty of it on the Internet and had seen some obviously posed stuff in magazines, none of which had interested me in the slightest. Not knowing what to expect when I got to this guys house, a quick natter over a cup of coffee, give the advice that I thought I could help with the authenticity of a fire-fighter's background, and away. An hour, two hours tops I thought; get up there for nine in the morning then on to work after that. It was four in the afternoon before I left. Apart from being a wonderful host, the guy was an amazingly interesting person, university lecturer, expert in human anthropology, TV and stage director, expert in escapology, advisor to the police on matters of S&M, founder of a company making bondage equipment and above all, a very good judge of people.

We discussed the story and then went onto what I was interested in and where I stood at the moment. I told him about the increasing doubts about where exactly I stood regarding my sexuality, and the comments made by various people. He understood what sort of a quandary I was in and explained that sexuality was not black and white / straight or gay but a variety of shades of grey. There were lots of people that he knew that were straight, but liked to play with other men. They had varying degrees of attraction to men, some like me just liked the image, others wanted a more intimate contact. This made me feel a lot better, at last I had found someone that understood how I felt and put my mind at rest.

Later on he showed me round his house, showing me his playspace, along with items of bondage equipment, he explained how the items worked and what the effects could be. I was interested, more out of curiosity. I had always wondered what a strait jacket was like and he showed me several types. The next thing I know he was putting me into one and strapping me up, showing me the various features and ways to allow and stop escape. He then showed me other devices including handcuffs and leg irons. I left that afternoon with a new found curiosity.

Some weeks later he invited me to visit again, this time to meet some other people who were on their own journeys of discovery, both at different stages of development. I arrived and the other two guys were already there busy discussing handcuffs and bondage techniques. These guys knew their stuff from a practical point of view and were obviously way ahead of me, but they listened to my story and later showed me the intricacies of handcuffing procedure and the use of side-handled batons. Turns out one guy trains the police for a living, but is interested in kinkier stuff as well. We took it in turns to cuff each other, and tried out the baton as well. Later we went to a local café and had lunch, all the while busy discussing the merits of various different techniques. I sat back for a moment and thought how weird it was that I was sat in a public place with three guys, seriously into bondage, discussing how to handcuff and hog-tie someone in the most efficient manner. Just as if we were talking about the best way to grow vegetables. I left the meeting feeling that these guys were just like me, not gay, but people who liked to play with men. I felt that I had finally found some kindred spirits. I have never been one to be bothered about peer pressure, I am not someone who feels they have to be with the "in crowd", and I am happy to spend time on my own. I am not bothered by convention, and love to think laterally. I get a real buzz out of solving problems, especially if no one else can.

The other strange thing was that I was becoming attracted to bondage. I suppose with the benefit of hindsight, the police thing that interested me was an indicator that I was showing an interest in what I soon learned to call Power Exchange and restraint, rather than bondage, but only in a subliminal way. The surrender of control, being arrested by a policeman appealled ... but this would be a dangerous and completely new path.

I have always been used to being in control, taking responsibilities, sometimes responsible for other people's lives, having to be totally accountable for my actions. This was the first step on that path, to have someone else take control of me and do things to me that I had little or no control over.

Invited to subsequent meetings I was shown techniques and was allowed to try them out. I was fought into a straitjacket, by two guys just to try and prove a point, that it could be done in a particular way. I was tied up and strapped to various frames and contraptions to see how effective various methods were. I was genuinely interested and keen to learn from both sides how the control and surrender of control could be a powerful experience.
#(Army topic excerpt)
Several months down the line and I was hooked. Having been given loads of material to digest, stories of other people's journeys, I was keen to learn more.

The writer then contacts me and says that there was someone he wanted me to meet. We arranged a get-together, and the writer explains that this guy wants to be tied up and given a relatively hard time. He sent me a story the guy had written outlining his fantasies, and asks if I would be interested in helping him put the guy through his paces. Of course I was. It was still a learning curve for me and I was keen to try out the stuff I had learned on a stranger for the first time.

The guy who is recently ex-army arrives at the house and changes into his cammo gear and goes up to the playspace, he is ordered to hood himself and face the wall. I got dressed up in cammos for the first time. I'd owned a set, acquired from friends when I worked on various Army bases, but never worn them as fetish gear. For the next four hours I tied the guy up in several different positions and ended up suspending him upside down trussed up in a Sleepsack, giving him a generally rough time and finally bringing him to orgasm. Eventually the scene finished and I cautiously let him free, standing over him wearing an Army helmet and armed with my police issue baton. Cautiously, because he has been swearing that he will kill me when he gets out.

When he is free he smiles and shakes my hand and thanks me for a great time. The feeling I got doing this was brilliant, enjoyed myself, and the squaddie enjoyed himself as well.

I went home thinking just how far I had travelled in the last few months, and how much I had discovered about Power Exchange and Surrender of Power. And, more importantly, about myself. I had learned about broadening horizons and not listening to people who cannot broaden their own horizons, but try to preach to others. I was happy with where I was in the world, and felt that I had found my own mind, and was happy with the situation.

This brings us to where the story begins. After a couple more meetings with the squaddie it was his turn to give me a run for my money, which he certainly did!!

END

YOUR JOURNEY?
Different people travel different routes to arrive at a point where they can put their impressions down on paper for others to read. The Introduction to Letters from the Fetters Files advises ... "To gossip onto paper can be a great release. I encourage people to use their own 'voice' as they write to me, not keep stopping to tidy up the text. So, don't expect great literature. When it comes to writing down a rush of ideas ... ; when it comes to an enthusiasm ... ; when it comes to a flow of alternatives - - to hell with grammar and structure: dots, dashes, colons, semi-colons and double question marks may not be true punctuation - but they indicate a personality. That sort of impetus is very necessary if total strangers are going to expose their innermost secrets in cold print.

How did you arrive at 'where you're at'?

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