SECRET SESSIONS OF CALLUM BUCHANAN
(This may read like jerk-off fiction - but all details are genuine
information - believe me, I've watched his sessions on more than one occasion.)
a regular basis since his return to civilian life, Big Callum (as he soon
became known at the local gym and rugby club), frequently treated himself
to what he called a quiet evening at home.
It made a change from sitting in the pub with mates after a good challenging
work-out or rugby practice. He missed the camaraderie of the Officers’
Mess, but had settled into a social routine since becoming Chief Engineer
for the local Health Authority. Divorced and living alone, he had developed
a circle of carefully selected friends but, to some extent, remained a
The town where he lived, although quite big, was a place where everybody
liked to know everybody else’s business. Not a situation appropriate
for Callum Buchanan.
alternative to trying to find a compatible sexual partner, he preferred
living on his own.
His life-long attraction towards being encased in heavy rubber had helped
him through a physically demanding naval career. But a couple of incidents
while trying to find a compatible female partner for his ‘kinky’
games, had cured him of taking the risk of admitting what he was into.
And, because no way was he gay, men he'd met who he suspected might
share his pervy interests had been avoided in case they might guess
his guilty secret.
So, strictly solo (and frequent) self applied rubber bondage sessions
had come to figure strongly in his generally enjoyable life. He knew
what he liked and had worked out ways to make it happen without outside
Always a sportsman, he also knew his gear - and certain kinds of sports
gear had always turned him on. His practical know-how as an engineer
allowed him to modify this kit so he could effectively ‘confine’
himself in it and, more importantly, release himself when the excitement
was over. Recently, as an extension of this, he would now condemn himself
to stay restrained after the erotic pleasure had died down. This was
not easy to achieve, but he was currently experimenting with ways to
experience ‘unwilling’ restraint situations - by determinedly
not allowing himself to start his release routine before a pre-decided
self-imposed time limit had expired ... as long as he didn’t wimp
out. Self-discipline had become part of his regular self-challenge sessions.
urges had started when he was very young and, after years of denial
and resistance, he’d at last reached a point where he no longer
even cared about the why or why not’s of it. It was/is his turn
on. Massive turn-on. Just a hobby with no angst attached - as long as
it stayed secret - and private. The road to where he was ‘at’
that evening was one with a gentle gradient. He was now OK with it -
but it had not always been that way.
puberty he had been disconcerted by his instinctive response to the
sight of men in diving gear. He fought against his unquenchable lust
for the imagery of physically capable men challenging themselves. Not
sexually, of course. Just an indefinable excitement which made his dick
hard. Down on the docks he would watch seamen and divers dressed to
face the wildest of weather in gear which he was desperate to have the
chance to wear. His first youthful insistence to his parents that he
wanted to take up windsurfing and then diving was only a cover for his
attraction to the gear - justification for climbing into rubber: the
opportunity to be encased in it; spend social time in it; have it hanging
in his bedroom. All very important when still living with parents, to
have a cover story for inclinations which embarrass you but are irresistible.
The early self-challenging times as a youth spent head-to-flippers in
rubber helping out in a local boat yard doing maintenance, even the
shittiest of jobs “just for the experience”, had paid dividends
when he applied to join the navy.
also continued boxing during his Navy career, something he’d been
good at at school. Frequently Duty Officer in charge of security shore
patrols when in port, he had succeeded in getting his Master-at-Arms
ticket, and generally knew how to look after himself in any rough-and-tumble.
But sports gear had always been the big thing.
So, now a civilian again, his various sporting involvements
locally were part of his cover. They made buying the gear nothing to
hide from anybody, including the postman. The fact that he had developed
uses for much of the kit which the manufacturers never dreamed of, added
to his secret enjoyment when his work or sports mates discussed the
efficiency of such kit, and visited him to socialise and saw it lying
which intensified the restrictiveness of boxing gloves, groin guards
and gum shields for his elaborate 'predicaments' were not obvious. But
when embarking on a private session, he could now efficiently confine
himself into the gear and commit himself to stay in it even after the
excitement had worn off. He had learned to love to hate these prolonged
probably unaware that his regular sessions had gradually become more
extreme - or so they might seem to any outsider looking in through the
window. Not that such a thing was possible in his new home, because
all windows were always carefully closed off with curtains when he was
indulging his fantasies. And his play area for more intense sessions
was in a basement which had no external windows nor doors. But generally,
his equipment was mostly the type of kit that a fit sportsman with an
interest in boxing, martial arts and water sports could safely have
about the house - even lying around his living area so he could enjoy
the sight and smell of it - and occasionally wear it while watching
TV or doing chores.
to our tale:
basement was by now conveniently equipped with several special features:
eye-hooks in ceiling, floor and at other strategic points, plus pulleys
and a chain hoist (which he’d developed a knack of operating even
when efficiently restricted) allowed for variety. A work bench was useful
for developing new gizmos whether in metal, moulded plastic or wood.
An abandoned deep bucket chair salvaged from a racing car, sat waiting
for his ingenious mind to devise a way of using it for self-imposed
restraint sessions. its webbing straps and harness clips had suggested
possibilities to Callum which, even in his imagination could get his
He reminded himself that he must get around to devising a practical
way to confine himself in it seemingly inescapably - but eventually
release himself without assistance.
the start he had decided that his basement playroom must essentially
remain a place for solo games. Even a whiff of suspicion could destroy
the cover he had built up around the local gym and community in general.
Down here, the pretences of the sporting life he lead for public consumption
could be left behind when he entered his own warm quiet world of all-encasing
restrictive rubber and sports kit.
developed a number of elaborate play-session routines which
kept him happy and usually safe. On this day he was going to commit
himself to a demanding session, and the preparations for it would take
both time and effort - all part of the enjoyment. Each phase of restriction
aimed to challenge a different part of the body, or a different sense.
He knew that the scenario was to an extent make-believe, but only when
he was efficiently restrained did he need to admit to himself that an
Escape Route was available. This had to be foolproof - but he was practiced
enough to risk making escape a both physically taxing and lengthy process.
Planning, preparations and achieving an extreme degree of encasement
and restraint, were for him as pleasurable as the actual time spent
enjoying a sense of convincingly inescapable restraint - before admitting
that he could (with effort) extricate himself.
always entered his basement play room naked. As a matter of practice
he never took any ordinary clothing down, so there were no distracting
visual reminders of his everyday world.
highly efficient boxers groin guard was the first phase of
his elaborate preparation on this occasion. Made of a plastic-covered
foam it was unaffected by sweat, tears or indeed any other fluids and
could be washed clean when finished with. He had made an important modification
to it by fitting a triangular plastic plate behind the cup, carefully
moulded on a plaster model. It separated his cock from his stomach,
confining his genitals inside the rigid foam cup, making it impossible
to stimulate his cock from outside. With a pair of snug latex trunks
stretched tight over this, it became virtually impregnable. He was glad
he’d remembered to piss before getting into it. Depending on how
long the session might last, he might be forced to piss while still
in it - which would do no harm but be uncomfortable. But then again,
he was no stranger to discomfort - self-imposed discomfort.
very special new wet suit was the next layer for the carefully
pre-panned session, custom-made by a small cottage industry in Devon
to this special sportsman’s detailed specifications. Most wet
suits are made from a layer of foam neoprene rubber with a stretch nylon
cloth bonded to both sides. This firm, which only made to measure had
developed what they considered to be the warmest suit in the world.
Instead of just one thickness of neoprene, they would select several
different types and bond them together to produce a thicker suit. The
one he had ordered specially and received only a few days ago, was an
advance on anything they’d produced before. The manufacturers
had appreciated technical input from so experienced a diver.
of the suit was a second layer of a tear resistant smooth rubber material
which left the inside of the suit absolutely smooth with no seams or
lumps. The outside, once finished, had been sprayed with a neoprene
seal to make it doubly water tight. He’d opted for a two piece
and specified no zips; it should have enough stretch to battle his way
into it. The trousers (or as they are known in the trade as Long-Johns)
extended up over his shoulders with arm slits in the wide chest panels.
For good measure he’d also asked for attached socks.
of getting his legs into this body-hugging first part, even using soap
solution to ease entry, proved to be quite a tussle - but he enjoyed
a good tussle. The maker had warned him that it might be hard to peel
the suit off again, but he looked forward to facing that challenge later
- after he’d pleasured himself and reached the stage when he was
exhausted and wondering why the hell he put himself through these challenges.
half, again made from the same bonded layers, had a deliberately snug
attached hood with the smallest of face openings. It was the stretch-and-pull-yourself-into
type with no zips. By the time he had struggled into the jacket and
hood over his already rubber-encased torso, and had the crotch strap
clipped through between his legs, the sweat was already beginning to
trickle down his back. Not that it would escape, because the suit fitted
as promised, like a second skin.
plugs were next item on his agenda. He remembered them only
after battling himself into the snug neck and head section of the suit
top. The small face-opening made it difficult to peel back the hood
before softening two wax ear plugs. These, he knew from experience,
would dampen his hearing to a point where he need not be distracted
by the telephone bell if it rang. He was not on-call from the hospital,
and the phone would switch automatically to the answering machine. With
ear-plugs now firmly in place and the hood dragged back up around his
head, only a small area of his face remained exposed, plus his hands.
'warm-up' now, something he would commit himself to in advance
of such self-challenge sessions; a set of energetic exercises. In a
corner of the play room was his multi gym. And so, he resolutely began
to go through his usual routine. However, the new suit itself turned
out to be a factor of magnification which he had not anticipated. After
a very few minutes on the cycle, he was sweating more than ever before.
He decided to stop and go into the next phase of his plan for total
restriction. But, he told himself firmly, next time he got himself into
this new suit he must complete the set of exercises.
Rigid ski boots, solid moulded plastic foot casings which reached
half way up his calves, were the next phase of 'restraint'. These had
four substantial metal clips to clamp them closed. Deliberately bought
large, they fitted comfortably over the bulky new wetsuit feet and legs.
When clipped up, the foot was held flat and rigid to a degree no other
binding could hope to copy. The ankle was locked in a bent position
at about 10 degrees of forward lean and clamped immovably. As he stood
up, panting from bending to fasten the last clip, again it was brought
home to him how much thicker and more restrictive his new suit was than
the old tried and trusted kit he had played in for the past few years.
He hoped that his calculations would allow for this.
his way over to his bench where the rest of the day’s play things
had been carefully laid out in advance. The ski boots made walking difficult,
and with the ear plugs and wetsuit hood up, all he could hear was his
own heart and breathing. First item off the bench immediately headed
for his mouth.
double boxer’s gum shield was not
quite authentic sports gear but was based on the ones he liked to use
for heavy sparring sessions at the gym. This version had been specially
made by a dentist in Australia when Callum’s ship had been in
dock in Sydney for a month. Like the regular type, it consisted of two
complete teeth beds, but this set had been specially moulded to fit
extra snugly around his upper and lower teeth. The plates were hinged
together which was standard practice, but a separate wedge-shaped block
of firm plastic designed to be inserted between the two gum-shields
and clip in there, was his own invention. Designed to totally immobilise
his tongue and jaw, it both filled and clamped the mouth partially open.
Once this wedge was in place, he could neither close his mouth or open
it further. And no amount of shaking would dislodge it, this he had
proved on many occasions.
who had tailor-made the device had taken some persuading at first. But,
being an enthusiastic sportsman himself, once he’d got over his
surprise he’d risen to the challenge from a fellow sports gear
nut. Creating such a precise piece of customised dental work for a beefy
British Naval officer had really fired up his imagination. Callum had
explained away this unusual commission with a story about Houdini-type
Escape Artist challenges being his hobby. To make challenges harder,
the aim was to devise an efficient mouth restraint ... to prevent teeth
being used to release ropes or straps.
Whether he believed the story or not, the dental technician approached
this unusual challenge with all his professional skills. For once, here
was a customer who was willing to put up with whatever discomfort the
process of getting the special denture right might involve. Pain and
discomfort are part of the dentist’s trade - and here was somebody
who seemed to relish both.
men had soon struck up a rapport during early planning and experimental
sessions. For the final testing, the dentist had jokingly offered to
add straps to his dental chair, his reasoning being that he wanted no
resistance while testing the long-term efficiency of his new creation.
Callum had never admitted his life-long kink for bondage as such, and
was embarrassed by it. So, although tempted, he passed up the offer,
not knowing where it might lead ... although the idea turned him on.
a precisely shaped wedge which, once in place, could not be dislodged,
was only the first phase. The customer asked for a breathing hole through
the wedge ... plus an additional plug so that the air hole could be
closed when required "'to intensify the challenge". Testing
the efficiency of this refinement during the final fitting sessions
had been quite a turn-on for both men. Straps for the chair might have
made the final testing easier for the dentist if not for Callum. In
fact, tweaking the design and re-testing sessions had continued for
as long as the ‘naval sports-gear enthusiast’ had been docked
in Sydney harbour.
Perhaps Callum had later regretted not allowing the dentist to follow
his original suggestion for straps on his chair. But Callum had always
resolutely avoided any such opening for potential play-partners during
his closeted lifetime. Determinedly he only ever played solo.
the efficient gag had been well tested by Callum during his regular
self-imposed ‘endurance’ sessions in the privacy of his
own new plays-pace. He had confirmed through repeated experience that
once the wedge was inserted and clipped, it needed no straps to keep
the device in place. Today he chose not to use the breath-control plug
because the new suit would be challenge enough for the lengthy processes
hand bandages were next off the bench; but first a pair of
thin rubber gloves because he’d promised himself total rubber
encasement today. Over the latex gloves the bandaging process starting
around the wrist then separating individual fingers before more turns
round the hand was not too difficult to achieve - even on the second
hand with the first already bandaged. It was a process well practiced
over the years in preparation for legitimate sparring sessions (usually
without latex gloves underneath - but not always). By the time the bandaging
was completed to his satisfaction it was almost impossible to move any
finger, and each hand was compressed into a half open fist. The time
spent learning how to box had not been wasted!
three items were left on his bench: a pair of American 18 ounce
boxing gloves, a long webbing strap with a ring on it, and his pride
and joy; a special diving mask designed for the oil industry. This was
intended to allow a diver to weld underwater without the use of a welding
shield in front of the mask. The unique design had a face glass formed
by a liquid crystal unit. A switch on the front of the mask could darken
the visor to any degree - including total blackness. The mask was also
heavy, so straps which held it in place were designed to make it impossible
to shake loose. He had deliberately removed the breathing regulator
from the air-tight mask, replacing it with a home made fail-safe air
inlet. This, he knew from experience, was crucial to his plan - but
he’d contrived it so it wouldn’t allow sound out. Even without
the gag, his loudest shouts inside the mask were little more than a
murmur. He’d actually tested it by using a tape recorder - to
check the mask’s efficiency. That was the attention to detail
Callum indulged in when planning for such sessions. The mask with the
gum-shield gag in place therefore, he knew would be seriously soundproof.
Although his jaw was already aching from the solid wedge gag, Callum
had committed himself to achieve the planned ‘predicament’
in every last detail - for the pre-determined period. So he now resolutely
plunged his face into the rubber of the mask and pulled the straps tight
- knowing that they had secure unslippable clips. No amount of head-shaking
would open the clips.
as a precaution, he re-checked that on the bench a slim sharp diver’s
knife was firmly clamped upright in the vice at the bench-edge - ready
for use when the time came to effect his escape. Being a careful man,
Callum always checked and re-checked. Slicing open tightly laced-on
boxing gloves was a delicate business, especially after a taxing session
of struggling and sweating inside his efficiently self-imposed bondage.
On occasions, he’d been so exhausted by sudden unforeseen factors
like an attack of cramps or numbness caused by restricted circulation,
that using the knife to release himself had demanded a supreme effort.
But his navy diving training had prepared him to deal with such emergencies.
He remembered times when his diving instructors had tied the hands of
trainees behind their backs and blacked out their masks before directing
them to find their way through a complicated underwater obstacle course
with a tangle of narrow apertures with overhangs and underfoot obstructions
which could snag at breathing tubes and trap a man by air tanks which
the wearer knew would run out unless he found a way around the problem.
Always well supervised, these training exercises had been memorable
and, when Callum himself had become an instructor - he had taken delight
in making such exercises even more fiendish. But, he’d also delighted
in always being the first to test any new challenge for trainees - and
demonstrate that however threatening an unexpected difficulty might
seem, by keeping a cool head and not panicking, there was always an
escape route (well, nearly always! ).
dragged his mind back from the heady days of setting and solving such
problems for others. Today he wanted no unforeseen hang-ups. The knife
was sharp and solidly housed and ready for use - as was an upright blunt
spike and several strategically placed hooks which could help release
an unexpectedly tangled restraining strap or rope binding. His experience
had taught him to expect the unexpected - and be prepared for any eventuality.
The lace-cutting manoeuvre he had practiced many times - including learning
not to damage the gloves when doing it blindfolded. Callum took his
fingerless sparring gloves, neat but thickly padded
were next. And as he bundled his bandaged hands into them, the sweat
was gently trickling down his nose and his excitement was rising (although
his captive cock had nowhere to rise to within its prison). As the sweat
trickled he, without thinking raised a hand to wipe the drop away. The
bulky glove buffeted against the sturdy mask and his muffled laugh was
heard by nobody but himself.
lace on each glove
had been deliberately threaded back to front, tail in the palm
rather than at the wrist. Each lace had a Fix-lock sliding clamp over
its ends, the same as were used on sleeping bag draw-strings and other
climbing gear. To tighten and make-off the laces, he had devised a neat
piece of engineering. On the bench was a metal plate with a deep ‘V’
notch. Under this, a bar on a rail was held up by a spring, and connected
to a foot-treadle. By positioning a glove and its lace-clamp above the
plate, the lace ends (held together by the Fix-lock) dropped round the
bar. With a quick press on the foot treadle the laces could be drawn
tight and close, clamped so they wouldn’t loosen again. With fingers
inside gloves and bandages and mouth clamped behind the mask, there
was no way he could release the clamp or pull the glove off his hands
- until he activated his carefully contrived get-out plan - the upright
knife slicing the laces.
resolutely pressed the foot treadle twice with his booted foot. The
thick gloves would now remain closed however much he might tug at them
during the coming session - which he intended to be a lengthy one -
perhaps for most of the night if he could resist the temptation to start
the release process.
Long ends of the tightened laces bothered Callum. So he had perfected
the difficult manoeuvre of cutting off the dangling surplus. Callum
liked things tidy, and anyway the now tightly closed lacings would have
to be cut through during his escape routine later - much later, he decided.
this point his elaborate preparations were almost complete. He was quite
proud of the fact he had reached this point in his plan without actually
shooting his load. He knew he was dribbling a lot in the confined groin
cup, but the juice was going to stay there - and there’d be a
lot more of it by the time the session was over. He knew that - and
looked forward to deliberately driving himself to climax - more than
once during the session. He might even demand of himself that he wouldn’t
start to release himself until he’d forced himself to three distinct
climaxes. These could become progressively more difficult to achieve
as exhaustion took over. But, tonight he might challenge himself to
find the energy - and the juice. It would be a serious text - he liked
to test himself.
heat inside the suit was already unusually intense. But he was up for
dealing with it. For now he would close his mind to the inevitable final
stages of the session, the escape process however taxing. Just enjoy
the effects of the first couple of hours (estimated) trapped in sweltering
confinement. Then, he would prolong the experience by dealing with the
cooling off of his adrenalin - and determinedly subject himself to the
discomfort for a while in what he could convince himself was inescapable
captivity - before allowing himself to activate 'The Plan'.
his body was now wet with sweat all over, and as he moved he could feel
the sweat squeeze around inside the tight-fitting suit, oozing out from
under the bottom of the face opening in the hood and building up inside
the mask. He was well pleased with himself. Speech was impossible and
even the grunts he made experimentally, he knew were heavily suppressed.
He tried to shout louder around the solid wedge in his mouth. It was
impossible - which was gratifying. But on stopping for breath, sweat
which was collecting within the mask entered the breathing hole. He
tasted his own sweat. He knew this could happen. There had been times
when he’d been forced swallow some of the stuff rather than drown
in it. He could deal with that.
confirmed that the sound restrictions were efficient and he had sufficient
air, he also stopped to listen - and holding his breath confirmed that
his hearing was reduced to virtually nil. Now with his sense of touch
removed by padded gloves (with bandage and latex under them) he was
ready for the next essential step. A careful swipe at the switch on
his well-secured mask would remove his vision. He tested it. His bulky
hand brushed the switch, and the visor clouded to a satisfying blackness.
Another swipe and his vision returned. He was a careful man.What
had to be dealt with next on his agenda was the freedom of his arms
and hands. This routine was yet another intricate process, and it had
taken many hours of sometimes strenuous practice before he had a fail-safe
means of efficiently restricting the use of both hands and arms efficiently
- and still be able to release himself from it when the time came. The
serviceable webbing strap had come from a ship’s chandlers. About
2.5 meters long, it was fitted with a dependable friction clamp which
allowed the strap to tighten and not loosen again until the lever was
pressed. He had melted a small hole in the free end of the tough strap.
wrist and elbow strapping process was as follows. At its maximum
extension, the strap could be pre-threaded through a figure of eight
ring making three equal loops. Even with heavily gloved hands, setting
the loops could be achieved. Then, after much practice, he had perfected
his ability to scoop up the strap from the edge of the bench. The padded
gloves made manual dexterity very limited, but in a carefully rehearsed
move, behind his back he could slip one arm down into each of two loops.
Next, using a clear area of the bench-edge to trap the strap loops at
his elbows, the buckle end would hang between his legs. By clamping
his elbows together he could now walk over to a wall where he had fixed
a cup-hook at an appropriate height. He’d learned to do this without
dropping the webbing strap - because if he did drop it at this point
he’d have to cut the glove laces and remove the gloves before
he could pick it up again.
reached the wall and leaning back against it, the straps around his
elbows would not fall. And between his legs, the remaining loop of strap
which included the buckle was long enough for him to capture it with
his gloved hands from in front. With one or both hands in the loop,
he could drag it between his legs, position both gloves within the loose
loop, turn round and then manoeuvre the hole in the strap-end onto the
hook on the wall.
this pleased him greatly. He’d done it many times now. By gently
stepping away from the wall, the webbing strap could be pulled, tightening
it around his elbows and making a bigger loop between his groin and
the wall with both gloved hands inside the loop. Now came the tricky
part; he would twist one wrist until the strap was twice round it. Having
achieved the turns round this wrist, he would next reach up with his
other hand (glove) to flick the switch on the mask. This done, he was
now in total darkness - but he had learned to plunge the second glove
back into the loop and, as with the first, get two turns around his
wrist. Now, by keeping tension on his arms and moving away from the
wall he could gradually draw the webbing through the friction buckle,
first increasing the strap tightness even more around both his elbows
behind is back, and then gently reducing the slack around and between
his two wrists in front. This process he had perfected so he could tighten
all three loops until he could no longer remove his hands from the loops
of the strap, his elbows anchoring through his crotch to his gloved
wrists and the distance reduced to a satisfying degree. The heavy-duty
friction clamp was a god-send. Once the desired degree of restriction
had been achieved (and perhaps a little bit more for good measure),
a final flick of the waist and hips could free the end of the strap
from the cup hook. This left his efficiently trussed elbows and wrists
tugging against one another between his legs. By this means he had enjoyed
many sessions efficiently trussed, confident that by pressing the friction-clamp
against the door frame he could slacken the strap when he was ready
to start the process of freeing himself.
familiar predicament achieved - on this occasion he was ready to introduce
A challenging new element - floor clamps for
the ski boots he was wearing.
Hours of experiment had gone into preparing for this imaginative new
'restraint'. Blind and pinioned as he was, he was ready for this new
manoeuvre. With one elbow he found the wall before him. Then with his
shoulder against it, he moved carefully towards the corner of the room.
Arriving there he now knew his precise position, and even through his
heavily booted feet he could locate the spring-loaded ski bindings which
he had fixed firmly to the floor. Like everything else Callum had gathered
together, these metal ski clamps were the best quality sports gear.
While skiing, the force required to break them open could be adjusted
from a little tug to a point where no force would move them. Screw-bolted
to his concrete floor, he had set the clamps so that they were firm
enough to hold his legs against any satisfyingly determined jerks and
struggles he might apply. But, when he wanted out, by leaning forward
until his head was supported against the well-anchored bench and then
jerking with all his strength, he could break out forwards. This was
to be, when the time came, the initial move in his elaborate escape
from self-bondage plan. Frequently he had checked and adjusted the tension
of the ski bindings and the distance from the bench to confirm that
everything was at precisely the correct setting. Callum was not only
ingenious he was a perfectionist.
clunking first one then the second of his boots into the metal clamps,
he had at last achieved one of his most favourite bondage predicaments:
laced inescapably into padded gloves with bandage and latex under them;
gagged and masked; wrists and elbows restrained - and clamped stranding
uncomfortably totally encased in triple-thickness rubber. How long could
he endure/enjoy this for? He was free to struggle and thrash around
and remain firmly anchored in the uncomfortable position, knees impossible
to straighten. His powerful body could writhe and tug. His strong thighs
would not break the bindings. Nothing would give. He could shout and
curse and nobody would come to his assistance. He would be there - until
he decided he had had enough. With no clock, could he discipline himself
to remain there well after he had stopped enjoying it? - and so experience
the feeling that he had surrendered control to somebody else?
as a precaution, he’d positioned the rally car seat close enough
that, if he grew tired but wasn’t yet ready to free himself, he
might sit and rest for a while on the edge of it. Later, even with the
restrictive boots still clamped to the floor he could, with an effort,
stand up again for more enjoyable struggling on seriously tired legs
or to begin the release process. He’d positioned the deep bucket
seat very precisely so that he couldn’t possibly slip right down
into it. That would be dangerous. The seat was angled steeply backwards
and the well-cushioned sides pressed close in on the body. Even without
the rally safety harness, the chair was deliberately confining in its
shaping. He had tried the harness a couple of times. It was very efficient
- but he had not yet worked out how to use it in his self-applied bondage
games. That was something for another time.
his mind back from the attractive possibilities of the car seat, to
the predicament he had so skilfully achieved so far today, and congratulated
himself on the fact that he could now stand there fully restrained and
savour the feeling. Mentally he re-checked his elaborate plan; ever
the practical man. A disturbing thought dawned:
as he was, in his eagerness to get into his new suit and play, he had
omitted one important check before going down to his basement. Had he
locked the back door to his house?
IS ABOUT TO TAKE ON AN UN-REALITY ... CALLUM
AND THE UNEXPECTED