Sunday 14th February - early evening
James called round at three this afternoon and he suggested that we get things moving early next week. So I invited him to view the room I'd prepared especially for him and he followed me in. Even then I hadn't thought it right through and planned what happened next - it just seemed obvious and natural.
"I like the look of it," he said, admiring what I'd done. "No sharp edges!"
"I don't want you coming to any harm," I reassured. "I don't want you coming to anything." That was when I decided to go for it.
"Try the seat, if you wish. I've managed to work everything around your measurements but one or two minor adjustments might be needed."
Within a few seconds he was seated and trapped. Fully dressed in denim jeans, a cotton shirt, trainers. Restraints held down his fore-arms and ankle-snaps kept his legs in place. From behind the back of the chair I swung over the head mask within which was attached a soft rubber penis designed to silence and to comfort him in equal measure. He struggled frantically and cursed dramatically but none of his words were audible, muffled as they were by the gag. It worked like a dream.
So it has started and I am sure I have set both of us on an inexorable course. Even from the outset I feel as if I am as much the victim as he is, although he is the one tied up and at my mercy. I am, however, determined to maintain a strict scientific detachment for as long as possible and to treat the whole thing as a vital psychological experiment.
My name, incidentally, is Tomas. I live with my partner Richard and we share our home with our mutual friend Hari who is a Maori lad - dark-eyed, loyal, passionate and intense. I get the odd reply to a Personal Ad I posted several months ago for willing participants in private bondage games. Richard and I are in our late thirties and most of the interest seems to come from guys the same age or older. We rarely bother to follow through these contacts as they are more about teasing and anticipation rather than any actual achievement. Besides, Hari is only 18 and quite enough to handle, even shared between the two of us.
But then I met James, who is about 23 and very intelligent and keen and seems to have his head sorted out with regard to this sort of thing. From the start - about two weeks ago - he has remained insistent upon going ahead with a really hot bondage session and having no limits as to what I should consider inflicting upon him. He's made it very clear that being in a position of total powerlessness is an almost obsessive need and he wants no safeguards in advance - no passwords or anything - just the freedom to be completely under my control.
Naturally, my imagination started to go a little wild at this prospect and I soon began to wonder if I was getting into something I'd not be able to cope with rationally. I have, however, furnished a couple of small secret rooms with just about all that is needed. Neither Richard nor Hari nor anyone else - apart from James himself, now - know of these plans.
***
I have left him alone and retired next door to recover. I am typing this with one hell of a nervous shaky hand. I have never been so hard - it is quite an incredible feeling. Maybe once I've come I'll have had enough. But I doubt it somehow. Perhaps there is a truth waiting to be discovered at the heart of this fantasy, just as there is a pure illusion waiting at the centre of reality.
Sunday - late evening
There is a music track playing: some classical baroque pieces, very soothing. Underneath as a secondary set of sounds, very faint, subliminal, is a special mix of moans and screams - taken from videos mainly - of various men in the agonies and ecstasies of sexual excitement and torment. As time goes on these will become louder but for the moment they are undetectable.
I went back in and unbuttoned his shirt and exposed his belly, softly rubbing his nipples. He moaned gratefully at this. I shall try to note how the timbre of his moans of pleasure change over the following hours. These first seemed to say: OK, I'm here now; start it, I'll play along. I delicately kissed the area around his navel before dripping a dozen or so strands of hot molten wax on to him. He jolted his body and cried out momentarily but soon relaxed on realising what was happening. Maybe he was hard himself. I was again, certainly, and it was barely fifteen minutes since I'd shot my first load. I picked up two ice cubes, one for each hand, and rubbed them over his stomach. Another jolt. The first scream too, though very pleasurably uttered I felt, as if he too were testing his boundaries.
The seat he was in had been constructed very carefully: it could be reclined at several angles; it could be turned and revolved. Now it lay flat. The body that lay there was still largely covered and hidden by manacles and a mask but I knew how beautiful the flesh beneath would be. To the mess of wax and melted ice that lay across his belly I added a few dribbles of my own pre-cum. I was standing naked next to him, my hungry cock ready to burst for a second time. Which it soon did.
I raised the mask from his face and he spluttered a little, gasping for air and blinking in the semi-darkness.
"You're an evil bastard," he groaned, after a few more seconds. "My throat is parched - I need water. And when are you getting to MY dick, man?"
"Soon," I said. "Are you sure you want to continue? Do you want to agree a password now?"
"You know what I want," he growled. "This is too good to spoil, so just shut up and get on with the...OWW!!"
I'd struck him across the face with the back of my hand. My fingers tingled.
"Don't tell me what to do!" I calmly muttered close to his ear. "Now - last chance - do you want a password?"
"Fuck off!!" He almost spat the words. I was obviously dealing with someone who had something to prove to himself.
"I'm a devious little devil," I said, putting the upper part of the mask back over his face to cover his eyes. "I'll give you another chance later but just remember how devious I am. Meanwhile I'll mix you a drink."
I scooped the remains of the melted ice, wax and semen from his stomach and into a glass. Raising him to a seated position I released his left arm and handed him the drink.
"What the hell!!" he spat a mouthful of the mixture out, back on to his belly and jeans.
"Not to your taste? I'd drink it up in one nice little swallow if I were you - there's a nice cold beer to follow if you do. Otherwise - sorry, the bar's closed!"
And bless him, he did. One quick shot back and the glass was drained. I opened a screw-top bottle and poured a full glass of the ice-cold beverage.
"I'll leave it on the side table just to your right while I go for a pee," I told him. "Help yourself."
