Apr 3, 2018

In Storage

I’m sure by now, it’s quite obvious that I have a thing for bondage. Something that may be a little less obvious is that I really enjoy a level of objectification. Part of this includes a form of bondage that finds the submissive (preferably myself) bound and stored away. Out of sight, out of mind, out of earshot. Completely and utterly helpless. This is not the most popular usage for bondage within kink circles, so it can be a bit of a challenge to find a Dom that enjoys subjecting a sub to such strict and often lengthy scenes.

I was recently fortunate enough to experience a scene like this, which is something I’ve only been able to experience a handful of times. But this time was different. The bondage was more intensive. The isolation was deeper. The Dom screwed with my head in such a way that had me crying for freedom, yet begging for more.

Knowing I was into storage bondage, we agreed on a scene where I was to be stored away in a leather hogsack for a timeframe of about two to three hours. I would be kept in a bedroom, door closed, while everyone else would enjoy their morning downstairs, in the basement. I would be checked on every 30 minutes or so to ensure that I was safe. I expected someone to come in and ask a few questions, such as “How is your breathing?”, “Is your circulation ok?”, and “Is there anything that could potentially become an issue in the next 30 minutes?”

It didn’t take long for me to be completely encased in the hogsack, on my belly, with nothing but my head exposed, which sported a blindfold to keep me in the dark. My fingers were wrapped around small balls, stuffed inside leather fist mitts, before being connected behind my back. The straps were pulled snug and buckled in place. The Dom gave me a simple “goodbye” and I heard the door close gently, before hearing the creaking of the floor as he walked away down the hall.

I was alone.

I struggled with nearly everything I had, checking that the bondage was secure and complete. It certainly was. I could not even roll over on my side or back due to the strict nature of the hogsack and the way my knees were spread wide. I continued to struggle for a few minutes more before coming to a rest and contemplating my situation. In the quietness of my isolation, one sound could be heard: the faint ticking of a clock. I counted each tick for a minute and thought to myself, ‘I only have to do that 30 times, and then do all of that 5 or 6 more times”. That’s when my situation started to sink in, and the mind-fuck began.

What I assume was 30 minutes later, the door opened and someone came in to check on me. I put up some light struggling to signal that this position was not the easiest. Nothing was wrong, so I said nothing. But neither did the Dom. I could hear him walk around the bed, then leave. The door closed again and that was that. No questions asked. Just someone coming and and looking at their toy to make sure nothing had happened to it. I wasn’t even afforded words. I was just an object stowed away. More mind-fuckery.

I struggled, with more purpose this time. Before long, I wore myself out and decided that I should try to sleep to pass the time. There wasn’t much else I could do. Unfortunately, the intensity of the position didn’t allow me to sleep. I couldn’t physically escape my bonds. By the time my next check-in was due, I couldn’t knew I couldn’t mentally escape them either. There was not escape at all. Just complete helplessness. My mind was turning to mush.

After a couple more check-ins, I had reached what I suspected was the two hour mark. With each check-in, my struggles became more intense. At one point, my straps were tightened just a bit. My moaning evolved into whining. While I never said a word, the noises I made practically pleaded for release.

Things changed up a bit. The Dom came in, but this time spoke to me; briefly telling me that at some point in the future, my storage would end, and I would be flipped onto my back and have more cock and nipples tormented before finally being released. With that, he left, but only to return just a few minutes later. He spoke again, telling me to close my eyes and keep them closed at risk of a severe punishment. With two check-ins so quickly and a request from the Dom, I believed I was going to have the blindfold removed and was to keep my eyes shut to lessen the pain of the bright lights in the room. I did as I was told and the blindfold was removed. Expecting to be flipped over, as promised, I braced myself for the procedure, only to feel a double-thick spandex hood pulled roughly over my head. Once it was properly situated, he left again.

Again, only a few short minutes went by before he returned. This time, reaching under the sack to locate and tease my hard cock. After he made sure I was hard, he tightened each strap as tight as they would go, making my predicament even more intense than it had been. I was then told that the torment would begin… In an hour.

I struggled and whined with everything I had left. I threw my body back and forth as far as my binds permitted as the Dom simply said, “I could watch that all day” before I heard the familiar sound of the door closing again.

I was a wreck. A mushy brained bondage boy, dying for release, but craving more. I’ve never been in that headspace before, and it was absolutely incredible. I can’t wait to experience it again, but for a longer period. One thing is for sure: this is a form of bondage that I need more of in my life.

Aug 8, 2017

My First Isolation Box Experience

This past weekend, I was fortunate enough to try something that has been on my list for years. Here is my account of the experience:

All scraps of clothing removed, I stood with as much patience as I could muster as a bag of handmade leather restraints was unpacked. Each wide leather belt made its way around various parts of my body. Ankles, knees, thighs, torso, and wrists as wrapped in leather. I stepped into the heavy wooden box and laid down. Four inches of leather wrapped foam cushioned me while each strap was attached to the walls of the inside of the box with more leather belts.

We hadn't even finished yet as I began to sink into my own personal heaven. Several friends stood by and watched. Many more went about their own socializing and play sessions in the next room, likely oblivious to my developing predicament. Once I was fully strapped in and secured, a simple S10 gas mask was introduced. Trailing two feet of flexible hose, it was lowered into the box towards my head and carefully tightened over my face. Now out of sight, the end of the hose was connected to a port in the side of the box, allowing fresh air to safely reach my lungs.

Without much ceremony, the lid was lowered and maneuvered into place. One last sliver of light vanished with a thud as the lid slid into position. Moments later, the conversations and music that were once so prominent in my life, were drowned out by the hum of the motor and from a small air exchanger. Fresh air was being pumped into the chamber to prevent excessive heat build-up.

With some metallic clanking, and the rip of velcro, a small door was opened to the left of my head, where a voice asked if everything was OK. After answering in the affirmative, the door was shut and bolted closed. Only a few minutes later, the smell of poppers saturated my only connection to the outside world. I let them carry me into my own world; stored away inside a piece of dungeon furniture until someone decided to let me out. As the effect of the poppers wore off, I couldn't help but think about how there was no where else I'd rather be.

The occasional yelp or moan penetrated the thick padding that surrounded me on all sides. As I began to drift into sub-space, the moans increased in frequency and intensity. While they were muffled, it was easy to tell that they were coming from immediately above me. An unknown boy was tied down inescapably to the full body lacing table that was built into the roof of my storage container. I was nothing but a piece of the bondage furniture that was being used to tease, torment, and ultimately pleasure the anonymous friend just inches above me.

The sound of the lid being removed pulled me out of my bondage induced trance, as several friends greeted me and welcomed me back to the real world. As I later learned, several friends took advantage of the available table that my box supported during my brief three hour trip inside. Three hours. It had felt like two, but also felt too short. Far too short. I needed more. Later that weekend, I was fortunate enough to find myself inside this box again. This time, bound in a rubber sleepsack before being strapped down. Another two hours logged in the box confirmed my feelings. I wanted to explore a truly long term experience in complete isolation. Until then…

You can find a couple pictures HERE

Mar 19, 2017

Teaching Again!

I recently had another opportunity to help teach about kink and fetish at MBLGTACC. This is my first time attending this conference, and this year it was being hosted in Chicago! Along with enjoying one of my favorite cities to visit, my partner and I shared a presentation with a couple others on a number of kinky topics. Immediately after, we had an additional presentation, with two pups, on a couple more topics. Both presentations went very well.

Later that evening, we had what must have been 100 people show up back in our presentation room to take part in hands-on demonstrations of various activities, like flogging, impact play, and bondage. It was an incredible weekend. I’m really starting to get used to being in front of larger crowds of people.

Jun 18, 2016

CLAW 2016

To start, sorry I’ve gotten a bit behind.

This was my second CLAW. I had a great time at my first, but putting the weekend in my rear-view mirror hurt more this time. This one had more meaning. This event is different from many of the other, more ‘high-profile’ events, such as IML and MAL. This event feels like it’s less about flaunting your kinks and gear, and more about celebrating our community.

Contests are replaced with a large series of educational sessions that span topics such as pup play, rubber, bondage, and many others. While the ‘L’ in the anagram stands for leather, it doesn’t matter what material you wear, or what flag you fly. You’re welcome there. The event is growing rapidly, and I suspect that it’s the sense of comradery that is to blame. I won’t complain about that for a second.

That weekend also saw the first weekend of sale of a certain neoprene pup hood… Something I had been wanting to exist for quite some time. Well, I couldn’t resist, so I went for it and the pup in me was born. I’m still experimenting with that particular part of my identity, but I was able to get a considerable amount of exploration done recently, at Capital Pride, which I will post about soon.

Jun 13, 2016

Orlando

10 months ago, I moved to Washington, DC to start a new life with my Sir. 10 months ago, I lived with a loving family. 10 months ago, I lived in Orlando.

In fact, I was born and raised in Orlando. Aside from a few years in Tampa for school, Orlando was the only home I knew. As you are already well aware, this past Saturday played host to a terrible tragedy in Orlando that saw the pointless deaths of 49 LGBT humans. This is something that I never expected to see from the relatively small city of Orlando; known almost solely for its tourist industry. I know none of the victims, but that hasn’t made this event any easier. I have never struggled with my emotions the way I have these past couple days.

This same weekend was Capitol Pride here in DC. Saturday went off without a hitch. We marched in the parade with the DC Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence; Sir making a statement in his heels, and myself testing the waters as Pup Kuff. We didn’t care what people thought, and strutted with pride down the streets. At one point, the parade ahead and behind us grew in distance. Hundreds of feet separated the entire parade from my Sir and three pups. The roar of the applause remained just as loud. We shared the crowds attention with no other group in the parade, but the community was still as loud as it was when it was cheering for the entire visible parade. That moment stuck with me the next day. That moment proves the acceptance that our community has for its members. That moment helped get me through the next day, as we again donned our pup hoods and walked the Pride Festival. As the sun set, we attended vigils at both the Capitol Building and the White House. These are moments that I will never forget. Here is a candid picture of myself (red) and Pup Nano (blue) during a moment of reflection in front of the Capitol Building as the chorus sings.



I’m reminded of that age old nursery rhyme; “Sticks and stones may break my bones, by words will never hurt me”. We may be hurt. We may be in pain. But we will never be broken. We will never fade from existence. We sure as hell will fight for ourselves, as well as the ones that we love and the ones we have lost. This tragedy has left us battered, but I truly believe that we will come out of this stronger than we have ever been. We are proud of who we are, and that is something that those who stand against us don’t even understand the meaning of.

That is why we will win.