## Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by snobound » Mon Dec 13, 2010 9:56 am

Canadian Hospitality
The pictures on the extensive galleries of master's profile made me drool. I pored over page after page containing pictures of hot guys trussed up in unbelievably complex and imaginative ways, growing increasingly excited with every click of the mouse. Exiting the photo galleries, I returned to my private message mailbox, minimized at the bottom of the screen. I clicked, and the window sprang back to its regular size. "Woof!" read the single word within the subject line of master's first message. The body of the message read:
Woof!
Nice pics you have there. Very nice. You and I could have A LOT of fun.
Care to take a ride, boy?
Master Trent
After those galleries.... the answer was yes. Hell yes! But... Canada? Ugh. Yes, the suburbs of Montreal were closer than New York... or Boston- my usual haunts. Beginning when I was a teenager, and even more frequently while in college, I would travel to either Montreal or Sherbrooke, Quebec with my friends for the sole purpose of drinking ourselves stupid and further degrading the international reputation of Americans.
However, visiting our northern neighbor was easier then. We'd pull up to the border crossing without any apprehension. The guards could always see the purpose of our trips a mile away. We would often get asked the same three questions:
1. Where are you coming from?
2. What is the purpose of your visit to Canada?
3. Do you have money?
My responses were always thus:
1. From the land of woodchucks and stoners called Vermont (I'd change this one up each time, depending upon the disposition of the border agent).
2. To enjoy the culture and beauty of your wonderful country (said with smirk).
3. More than enough to induce an alcoholic coma.
We'd ALWAYS get a laugh and be waved on through.
Now you need a damn passport. The lines are longer, and MUCH slower. The guards are intrusive, and the level of scrutiny is unprecedented. I don't know.... for some reason, the thought of driving through an international border with a duffle bag stuffed with bondage gear would put me on edge. I envisioned the guards easily reading the guilty tension on my face, prompting them to pull me to the side for a more "thorough" inspection. Visions of being handcuffed to a steel chair in an interrogation room as my tie-up gear was laid out on a table before me were both frightening and mildly arousing! Numerous chats with Master Trent, both on Yahoo Messenger and on the phone, slowly eroded my apprehension and nerves. The more we talked, the more it became clear that Trent was a good guy, and that he REALLY wanted to tie me up. We discussed the varying intensities of my many gear fetishes, my level of experience, as well as my boundaries, and how they might be expanded! I was sold. Sign me up! Tie me up!
Master Trent and I were both highly frustrated by the three weeks it took to secure my passport, though you know what they say about good things coming to those who wait!
The necessary document arrived on a Wednesday, and I was on my way early the following Friday. I was so damn worked up on my way north through western Vermont. Trent was well aware that heavy, inescapable, long-term bondage was what I expected, and had promised that I'd be restrained for the entire weekend, without respite. I was sweating as I approached the border gates. I was hopeful that the July heat would cover up the true source of my nervous excitement... it certainly didn't hide the fact that Master Trent had forbid me to wear any deodorant!
The crossing loomed ahead. There were only two cars ahead of me. Both were allowed to proceed into Canada without delay. Maybe this would be easy, I thought, wiping sweat from my forehead. The minivan ahead of me drove away, and a dour looking guard motioned for me to pull ahead. I lowered the window and presented my passport and driver's license. The man gave both documents a cursory glance, and was seemingly more interested in the large black duffle bag in the cargo area behind the pick-up's two front seats.
Still clutching my license and passport, the guard gestured to a female agent chatting with a good looking young guy who was busy freshening up the landscaping. My pulse quickened as she and her forbidding looking German shepherd approached my truck. Apparently, I look like some sort of smuggler. Maybe they were just messing with me. Nevertheless, I waited as the dog encircled my vehicle, sniffing with unfailing determination and focus. I breathed slowly and evenly, trying to control my pulse. Why was I nervous? I had nothing to hide, so long as hoods, muzzles, and restraints weren't considered contraband.
Only when the dog had given me the all clear did the male guard look seriously at my passport and license, though he handed them back only a moment later. "Where are you headed?" he asked gruffly.
"Saint Jean sur Richelieu," I responded truthfully.
"What is the purpose of your visit?" was the guard's next interrogative.
To get tied up and tormented until I drip with sweat and grunt like a piggy? No... sometimes the absolute truth must be withheld. "I'm going to visit a friend."
"When do you plan on returning?" asked the Canadian border agent.
When I'm utterly and completely spent, covered in rope marks, and milked completely dry? No, no, no... that wouldn't do at all. "I'm coming back to Vermont Sunday evening, sir." My use of "sir" seemed to seal the deal.
"Welcome to Canada," the guard muttered with a slight air of disgust. It was like he was begrudgingly allowing some known miscreant into his pristine land. I'm a teacher, for god sakes! Maybe I give off some kind of freak vibe or something! I was reminded of an old Blink 182 song...
Regardless, I was speeding north once again- the obstacle of the border crossing behind me. Relieved and calmer, I drove through the broad St. Lawrence River Valley, starkly flat in contrast to my home state. I don't meet up with tops like this very often, and each new experience is as terrifying as it is exciting. I was almost there... Saint Sebastian- Henreyville- Iberville. With a pit in my stomach and hard-on in my shorts, I crossed the bridge over the Richelieu River, which allows the Lake Champlain watershed to drain into the mighty St. Lawrence, then on to the Atlantic.
I entered the small, picturesque city southeast of Montreal, and allowed my GPS to guide me through the final mile. Trent had made his home in the upper floors of an aging commercial building in the center of town. I parked on the street, in front of one of the storefronts that made up the building's first floor. Between a barber shop and deli was the door that Trent had described- wooden, heavy, and ornate. With the duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I made for the door...
Stay tuned for some good bondage....
Last edited by snobound on Sun Jan 02, 2011 12:26 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by xtc » Mon Dec 13, 2010 11:22 am

What's this? a trailer?
As usual youe writing is excellent.
Xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Dec 14, 2010 10:31 am

Yes this sounds like it'll be a very promising tale. The title implies someone else is getting tied up slong with you. A pleasure shared is sometimes a pleasure doubled.
Is this a true story BTW, since you didn't place it in Fictional Intimate Tugs?
BTW, and not meaning to be a pest, but when are you continuing the TUGs Institute story?
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by snobound » Tue Dec 14, 2010 5:20 pm

> xtc wrote:What's this? a trailer?
> As usual youe writing is excellent.
> Xtc

You betcha!! (channeling Sara Palin) COMING SOON... to a cum stained desk chair near you... HEAVY BONDAGE, TORTURE, GRATUITOUS SEX! Starring Hunter as eager sub # 1, Andre as eager sub # 2, and Trent as the sadistic master with money to burn and toys-a-plenty. Under 17 not admitted without an adult
Jason: Yes... this is indeed a true story that took place the summer before last. I've been back since, and am planning another visit some time next month! Regarding the TUG Institute... I need to devote some serious screen time to it.... I can usually hammer out one of these other stories in a few hours- at most. For some reason, the writing has been slow- painfully slow- when I write fiction. Speed, of course, is relative.
BTW... I should have another addition to this story in a day or two. My goal is to get caught up with your recent additions to "Keeper" tonight.
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Dec 14, 2010 10:28 pm

> snobound wrote: My goal is to get caught up with your recent additions to "Keeper" tonight.

That should be easier now that I *finally* finished it
I intend to catch up on all the other uncompleted tales I started as well (hop[efully without rushing the ending as I did with School Bully's Punishment) before I do another long Tug novel, and maybe do some more of my High School Years stories too. But I've been pretty busy too, so I know what it's like having more things you want to do than you have time for. Boy, do I know!!!
And you're right about it harder to write fiction than non. It's easy for Brother's Keeper because it (and other long stories I'll adapt later) were all written years ago. High School Years is also easier because (regardless of how it seems sometimes) they're not fictional (embellished a tad perhaps, but not fiction). But the other fictional stories I've been writing here for the very first time (like Kennel for Kid brothers or Footyman II)... Ai yi yi yi yi!!! They're harder to do than I thought!! I should have planned them out at least a little bit before I started writing the things!!!
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by xtc » Wed Dec 15, 2010 2:15 am

> Jason Toddman wrote:

> > snobound wrote:
> > I should have planned them out at least a little bit before I started writing the things!!!

I know what you mean!
Xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by snobound » Wed Dec 15, 2010 2:21 pm

> xtc wrote:

> > Jason Toddman wrote:

> > > snobound wrote:
> > > I should have planned them out at least a little bit before I started writing the things!!!

> I know what you mean!
> Xtc

Hey! I've been misquoted!
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm)

Post by snobound » Tue Dec 21, 2010 5:11 pm

Canadian Hospitality: Part 2
Sleek and modern- the polar opposite of what you'd expect from the building's aging facade. And this was just the entry. The rough brick walls bounding each side of the stairway were adorned with striking black and white landscape photography. The sound of rock music...Pearl Jam?... filtered down from above. I climbed, engrossed by the artwork. Some of the photos seemed to have been taken in my neck of the woods. It was due to this distraction that I failed to see my waiting host until reaching the landing outside the door to his residence and business.
I was a little startled, actually, though only for a moment. Trent was easily recognizable from his photo. Close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and a tightly trimmed goatee. He was in his forties, but looked no older than thirty-five. He was dressed in red gym pants, a gray sleeveless t-shirt, and black no-show socks. Trent's ripped arms were evidence of a religiously adhered to workout regimen, explaining his youthful appearance.
I was a little bit flustered, having been knocked off of my guard, though Trent was grinning broadly, leaning against an exposed steel beam. "I'm really glad you came, Hunter," he said stepping toward me. Trent gave me a welcoming hug, and we shook hands. Trent and I had already chatted extensively, and even though we hadn't yet met face to face, we were already beyond the necessity of awkward small talk. "Come and check the place out," said Trent, pulling open a heavy frosted glass and steel door.
Trent had supposedly made quite a bit of money in his thirties with an internet business, and now just dabbled with occasional "opportunities"- whatever that meant. Whatever his income source, Trent had obviously spent with abandon. What had once been divided up into numerous apartments and offices had now been transformed into one massive rectangular space. Even the ceiling, which had also served as the floor of the building's former third level, had been largely cut away, exposing a latticework of steel beams. A minimum of twenty feet spanned the distance between ceiling and floor.
A single brick wall separated Trent's living quarters from the darkened playspace that I could just barely make out looming through a gaping archway. The living quarters, or what I could see of it, was amazing. A beautiful, gourmet kitchen in one corner and fully stocked bar and pool table in another. Centered in the expansive room was a massive leather sectional sofa pointed at the largest flat screen TV that I've ever seen. Trent saw that I was a bit taken aback.
"There's a lot of sweat equity here. I transformed this place over a period of eight years," he explained."
"Yeah, it's amazing," I remarked, still taking it all in.
"Check everything out. Familiarize yourself with the playroom," Trent said, gesturing toward the archway in the thick brick wall. "I'm going to change into something a little more... appropriate," he laughed before disappearing down a hallway.
I walked toward the playroom, pausing at the archway. The room was dimly lit- lined with sconces that almost resembled the mounted torches of a real medieval dungeon. Though I was unable to determine its source, the music seemed to emanate from the playroom. My attention was immediately drawn to the one piece of equipment that I most desperately wish to add to my own collection- a St. Andrew's cross. It appeared to be padded, and was absolutely bristling with attachment hardware.
A custom four-poster- a REAL bondage bed- was the focal point of the room. Chains dangled from each of the four corners. More chains hung from suspension extensions that projected from the end of the four-poster's welded steel framework. A black rubber Sportsheet covered the mattress, and long, jet black taper candles burned on each night stand, constructed of the same heavy steel as the bed. Harnesses and slings of varying purpose and composition hung from beams overhead, as did dozens of lengths of chain and countless coils of rope.
It was overwhelming trying to take it all in, and even after spending an entire weekend in that room, I don't think I've managed to familiarize myself with all of Master Trent's goodies. A custom-built bondage chair had just caught my eye when a sudden, unexpected noise stole my breath away. I had assumed that I was alone. It was a grunt, followed by a muffled moan. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I spun around, searching for the source of the strangely familiar sound. The larger, more conspicuous pieces of dungeon furniture ringing the room's perimeter had caused me to overlook its center. Probably because the sitting area's leather arm chairs and sofa were far more mundane than the rest of the playroom's furnishings.
The focal point of this sitting area was a coffee table... of sorts. Well, it had the rough dimensions of your average coffee table, though that was where the similarities end. This low-slung table had obviously been custom built. It's 4x4 timber frame had been bolted together with very heavy hardware. Three-inch steel rings of similar heft hung from eye bolts mounted along the table's sides, encircling its perimeter at two foot intervals. The surface was thickly padded, then upholstered with natural cowhide.
Today, that cowhide had an occupant- a heavily bound and gagged occupant! He would have gone unrecognized had it not been for the tattoos. The athletic young man was adorned with at least a dozen distinct pieces of exquisite body art, many with significance to those in the BDSM community. Numerous photos from Master Trent's profile galleries flashed through my mind- often featuring this particular sub in very intense ties- the majority of which I hoped to try. In fact, those galleries had suggested that this boy and I happened to share many of the same gear fetishes, along with the desire for very strict restraint.
Speaking of strict restraint... the heavily tattooed boy was bound in a tight hog tie. Gobs of tan hemp rope had been used to bind the sub's toned, inked arms together and against his torso. The boy's wrists had been crossed and tied securely, and the remaining rope had been used to draw his bound ankles- also crossed- up to within a couple of inches of his outstretched fingers. Most bondage enthusiasts would have been content with such a tie, but not THIS sub, apparently... and not ME!
Trent knows this fact all to well. Four lengths of rope had been doubled over, and one had been wrapped around each of the tattooed sub's elbows and knees. The two remaining tails of each doubled rope were passed through the bight at their centers, and the slack was taken up. The ropes trailing from the boy's left knee and elbow were secured to the steel rings at the left side of the table. The same had also been done to his bound limbs on the right, pulling his body snugly against the leather cushion.
Slowly circling the purpose-built bondage table, I continued my examination of the surprise sub. The familiar "mmphing", which had precipitated my delayed discovery of the bound boy, was due to a thick black rubber ball gag that was the centerpiece of a complicated leather head harness. Thick streams of drool trickling from around the gag were collecting in two small puddles on the cushion below. A rope tied to the head harness' topmost D-ring was used to rack the boy's head severely backward. The opposite end of this rope had been secured to the end of a shiny steel anal hook.
I gave this taught rope a sharp twang with my index finger. The boy groaned and squirmed in response, pulling against the ropes with gusto. I squatted near the helpless sub's face, locking my own brown eyes with his, which were of a striking hazel. He was clearly enjoying himself. His eyes had that wild, frenzied look often brought about by bondage-induced endorphins. I hooked a finger around the harness' chin strap and gave it a downward tug- once, twice, three times. Each pull elicited gratifying reactions that only served to get ME excited!
I stood, resuming my inspection. The sub's rock-hard cock and balls poked out helplessly between his legs, and Master Trent had bound them with parachute cord. I couldn't help it. I had to mess with him... I know he wanted me to. I would have wanted me to! I gave the helpless boy's balls a light squeeze, and was about take hold of his engorged cock when...
"HUNTER!" Startled, I quickly and guiltily retracted my wandering hand. Trent strode through the archway, now more "appropriately" dressed. As I had mentioned, Trent is in immaculate shape for a man in his mid forties, and he looked damn hot in his black leather upper body harness, spiked collar, leather jock, and black boots constructed of the same requisite material. "Please don't pleasure Andre. He hasn't earned it, nor does he deserve it."
"Yes, sir," I responded. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. It's just that..."
Trent interrupted. "I totally understand the temptation. You'll get your chance... and he'll get his as well."
It seemed that I had planted ideas in Andre's head. He was now trying to grind his bound member against the leather pad in a futile attempt to pleasure himself. Apparently, self-gratification was also forbidden. Trent retrieved a leather flogger from the arm of the nearby sofa. He began to assail Andre's ass cheeks, thighs, and shoulders with the flogger- transitioning at random from one location to another. Trent knew what he was doing. He sensitized each body part with repeated light whipping, followed by a single forceful blow that would bring about yelps that were only slightly muffled by the ball gag.
Trent gave me a little shove with his free hand. "Grab his cock, but DON'T jerk him off!"
"Yes sir!" I answered with enthusiasm. Trent continued to work over his writhing captive as I firmly grasped his throbbing member. I fully understood the reasoning behind Trent's explicit instructions. Andre wasn't far from release, and Trent was an admitted fan of intense edge play.
Andre would have been bucking like a bronco had it not been for Trent's expert ropework, though the boy's fingers and toes flailed wildly as he alternated between uncontrollable snorts and desperate gasps for air. Trent worked Andre's buttocks for a full minute, though with only light flogging. First one cheek, then the other. One, then the other. My rigid grip held fast, though I could tell that Andre's vigorous struggling was bringing him ever closer to release. I glanced at Trent. He understood.
"Hold it... steady... another few seconds," Trent cautioned calmly, though he possessed a look of utmost concentration as the flogging continued unabated. Without warning, Trent gave each of Andre's butt cheeks a single forceful blow in quick succession while simultaneously jerking my hand away from the boy's cock.
Andre whimpered pathetically through the gag in both pain and frustration. He had been no more than seconds from what I was sure would have been a spectacular ejaculation. I stood there gob smacked, and with my mouth gaping open. I was sweating, insanely horny, and, unbeknownst to me, stroking a hard-on of my own beneath my shorts. Trent took notice, and it was time for me to realize that I was now under HIS control...
Sorry for the long wait folks... things are crazy. Hang in there... the next installment is intense!
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### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 2*

Post by LikesItTight » Tue Dec 21, 2010 7:43 pm

Your descriptive writing is so well done. I could actually visualise the room in my head.
I use the term "I'm a little tied up right now" to a literal extent.

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 2*

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Dec 21, 2010 9:53 pm

WOW!!!
Damn, we need a drooling emoticon here!
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 2*

Post by sarumansauron » Wed Dec 22, 2010 9:38 am

Very good! I badly can wait to read the next part. Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 2*

Post by snobound » Sun Jan 02, 2011 12:24 pm

Lol! Thanks for the compliments, guys! This next section is pretty intense as well. I hope you enjoy.
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### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by snobound » Sun Jan 02, 2011 12:25 pm

Canadian Hospitality: Part 3
"It looks as if neither of my boys can be trusted to control themselves!" Trent grabbed me by the arm and led me toward the forbidding looking bondage bed, then gestured for me to sit. "I think that you're just as big of a bondage slut as Andre over there!" he said, laughing.
"Well, sir, I think that you're going to have to test that hypothesis," I joked nervously. Trent stepped forward and lifted the T-shirt over my head, smelling me as he did.
"I see that you followed my instructions regarding deodorant. Good boys shouldn't smell like flowers and body wash." He pushed my back onto the mattress, protected with a rubbery Sportsheet. Trent removed my New Balance trail runners without undoing the laces, then pulled off my no show socks. In one smooth continuous motion, my Adidas gym shorts joined the growing pile on the floor, soon followed by my black CK boxer briefs. For a moment Trent stood, admiring my nakedness. The moment was fleeting.
"Center yourself on the mattress," Trent commanded as he began pulling gobs of gear from the many shelves and hooks that lined the walls at either side of the bed. "I'm going to tackle your cow fixation early," Trent said, almost to himself, as a pile of tan leather restraints and straps accumulated around me. The restraints weren't standard fare for your average bondage enthusiast, as they weren't secured with buckles. These, I recognized, were "Humane Restraints"- often used to manage uncontrollable, mentally ill patients or unruly prisoners. They were certainly crafted to fill this very niche... or to keep a very naughty boy helplessly immobilized for some intense torments.
Trent approached and climbed suddenly onto the bed, and then onto me, straddling my bare chest. He looked intently at me for a few seconds before speaking. "Just so we're both clear on what you've bargained for.... restrained for the entire weekend. Heavy restraint. As long as the limits that we've already agreed to are respected, then I may truss you up in any manner that pleases me, for as long a I think you can endure...
"Oh, I can endure plenty!" I interrupted, laughing.
Trent, however, was already deeply entrenched in his favored dominant role. He put his forefinger up to my lips and I fell silent. "As I was saying before the boy interrupted," Trent began, smirking, "you will remain bound from this moment until I see fit to allow your release. Positions, predicaments, and tortures will change as I see fit. Understand?"
I nodded as wide grins spread across Trent's face, as well as my own. Remaining seated on my chest, Trent wrapped the first heavy cowhide restraint around my right wrist. Humane Restraints are simple, yet highly effective. These are longer than traditional buckling restraints, with a rigid, rectangular steel shackle that rises perpendicular to the restraint at one of its ends. This end is placed against the captive's limb first, before encircling a wrist or ankle. As the leather begins to wrap back over itself, one of many slots in the opposite end is lined up with the steel shackle. A slot at the end of the restraint is passed over the protruding shackle. This simple action determines the tightness of the restraint, though another step is needed to secure it.
My determined, grinning captor reached for one of the many one-inch wide straps of varying length that he'd piled onto the black Sportsheet. Crafted of the same natural cowhide as the restraints, these straps had been designed to pass through the rectangular shackles of the Humane restraints. These straps, when threaded through the restraint's rectangular shackle, would secure the leather cuff just as a cotter pin will prevent a wheel from falling off its axel.
Not only do these straps serve to secure the restraints themselves, but they also provide convenient anchor points to tie down the wearer. However, for the moment, Trent seemed content in simply applying the restraints to my wrists and ankles. Trent attached the second wrist restraint while still seated on my chest, then spun around and rested on my legs while repeating the same process with the ankle restraints. Trent climbed off of his captive, now adorned with four Humane Restraints, each bearing a long, unsecured leather strap.
Anticipating Trent's next move, I extended my arms over my head and to the sides, forming a V. Trent chuckled at my eagerness to get tied down and complied with the unspoken request. The strap leading from my right wrist restraint was still unbuckled, as were the rest. Trent captured a steel upright on the bed's frame at its upper right hand corner, then joined the two ends of the belt in a continuous loop. Cinching the belt only lightly, Trent secured the buckle.
My arousal hadn't flagged for an instant since encountering the heavily tattooed Andre in his helpless state, though I had grown rock-hard as Trent circled the bed, belting each of my ankles to the steel framing at the two corners of the foot of the bed. My cock had begun to overtake rational thought, and my remaining free hand leapt to it as Trent cinched down and buckled the strap securing my second ankle.
"NO, Hunter!!" Trent spat as he cruelly pulled my hand away from its target.
"Sorry, sir."
"Fuck you, boy! You're not sorry about shit!" Trent scolded, good-naturedly.
"No, sir!" I laughed.
"Yeah? We'll see..." Trent teased, pulling my left arm taught before capturing the bed's steel framework. I grunted with pleasure as he cinched this strap tighter than the previous three. He made his way back around the bed, re-cinching the straps at each ankle, and then at my right wrist. Racked out in a strict spread-eagle, I tested the effectiveness of the leather, pulling with each arm and leg individually before unleashing an all out barrage of thrashing with all four limbs. All that I managed to do was work up a sweat and generate a whole lot of that lovely creaking sound that leather makes when under strain.
Trent looked on in amusement, then once again moved to tighten the straps anchoring my right ankle and wrist. I was going nowhere, and was immensely turned on by the fact that my captor was just getting started.
"So, you're not one of those subs that just lies there?"
"No, sir!" I answered, redoubling my efforts to resist the taut leather. Trent momentarily left my field of vision as I thrashed about with my torso, trying with futility to scratch an itch on the small of my back. I was in mid flail, likely with my eyes closed, as I felt Trent climb atop me again. Like before, Trent straddled my chest. This time, however, he faced my helplessly exposed erection. Briefly- before it was whisked away from his shoulder- I caught sight of a coil of the same parachute cord that Trent had used in binding Andre's junk.
I moaned as Trent began wrapping the base of my cock and balls with the para cord. He tied my cock separately, then my balls. Next, he began a figure eight pattern around both as I flexed and struggled against the leather binding me and the weight of Trent's body. Trent completed this rope harness halfway up my cock, from which at least ten feet of remaining cord extended. I heard a metallic clank as Trent stood on the bed with his booted feet positioned at my sides. He quickly fed the loose end of the para cord over a pulley attached to the upper framework of the bondage bed. Before climbing down, Trent tied a small loop in the cord's final inches.
"This may counteract some of your thrashing," said Trent, as the source of the metallic clanking was revealed. From the edge of the bed Trent removed a cluster of half kilo brass weights that hung with carabineers from a large steel ring. I watched in anticipation as Trent removed the first weight from the ring and clipped it onto the loop at the end of the para cord. He allowed the weight to drop from his grasp once it was secured. It fell no more than six inches before jerking the para cord taut, but still managed to elicit a gasp and moan from me.
As if to prove Trent wrong, I resumed my thrashing, though only briefly. The effect of Trent's rigging was immediately apparent. By itself, the pull of the weight was tolerable- even pleasurable. My renewed flailing, however, compounded the effect, causing the weight to jump around, sharply tugging at my bound cock. I had barely ceased my latest test of Trent's handiwork when he added an additional weight to the cord, dropping it as he had the first.
"There ya go, smartass! Thrash some more... I've got plenty!" Trent laughed, jingling the mass of weights dangling from the ring still clenched in his fist.
"You could keep me still if you really wanted to," I taunted. "Completely still... I bet!"
Trent laughed deeply. "Point taken, Hunter!" He gathered another armload of similar looking leather gear from the wall, then dumped it onto both the bed and me. Trent began with the belt. It was thick, and five inches wide; crafted of the same tan cowhide as the Humane Restraints. Instead of the single rigid shackle of the wrist and ankle restraints, the belt had been constructed with two, separated by about a foot. Craning my neck, I looked on with keen interest as Trent wrapped the heavy belt around my midsection. It was positioned so that the section containing the protruding rectangular shackles rested across my abs.
"I love that there's still a lot of leather in that pile," I said, for the sake of conversation.
"I think you'll love it even more when its wrapped tightly around your arms and legs," Trent replied. "You know damn well that I know how to satisfy a bondage pig like yourself."
"I don't know shit, sir! You'll have to show me," I said, surprised at my own boldness. Trent laughed again, more deeply than before, as he snugged the belt and passed the slotted end over the metal shackles. Straps were fed through both of the belt's shackles. Trent climbed upon my back once more and captured attachment points at the left and right sides of the bed with the respective straps. By sitting atop me, Trent ensured that I was pressed deeply into the mattress as he bore down on each buckle. Trent climbed off of me, though the taut straps prevented the mattress from rebounding to its original position. I loved it!
Trent was in the zone. He looked confident, even cocky; bearing what I would call a "shit eating" grin as he set to work applying even more leather to my body. Traditional buckling restraints, though still of a natural cowhide, were tightened around my biceps- just above the elbow, then around my lower thighs. My captor paused to add a third half kilo weight to the two already dangling from the rope leading to my restrained hard-on. I moaned in mild protest.
Grinning even more broadly, Trent began feeding one of the longer straps through the D-rings of the restraints buckled around my left arm and thigh. Trent completed the loop and cinched the buckle tight, drawing my arm and leg towards each other and out of their locked, outstretched positions. I was beginning to breathe heavily as Trent repeated the process on the limbs on my right. The second strap was cinched just as tightly as the first.
"Uhhhhhhh... awesome, sir," I murmured. Trent said nothing, but began threading yet more straps through the same D-rings on each of the thigh and arm restraints. These were secured to the sides of the bed, racking my body even more completely. I craned my neck as best I could in an effort to survey my predicament, then allowed my head to collapse back to the mattress with a groan.
Trent looked at me with mild concern. "What's the matter, Hunter?"
"Uhhhhh..... absolutely nothing, sir. You need to come home with me so we can do this nightly!" I joked amid my panting. I jerked with all of my might to the left, then to the right. I attempted an all out flail, but could only move my head, hands, and feet. "Awesome. Fucking awesome!"
It seemed that more straps were in order. Trent leaned over and captured the second D-rings on the insides of both thigh restraints. He bore down on this strap with as much ferocity as the others, equalizing the directional tension on my legs. A final belt captured this previous strap at its center, and was then threaded around the framework at the foot of the bed. Trent completed this loop and bore down upon the buckle, completing a totality of restraint that few tops take the time and effort to achieve.
Trent gave my thigh a slap. "Hey, try thinking with your other head for a moment. Does anything hurt?"
"Hurt? No. Nothing else feels this good," I answered truthfully.
"Circulation okay? No numbness?"
Pushing back at rapidly encroaching bondage-induced euphoria, I made a concerted attempt to evaluate the condition of my limps. I pumped my fists and shook my feet, then flexed against the completeness of Trent's trussing. "Couldn't be better, sir," I answered confidently. Trent smiled.
"Good. Then lie there and contemplate the helplessness of your predicament." My captor turned tail and strode from the playroom. I did just what Sir had instructed- unleashing a ten minute squirm-fest, realizing for the first time just how exposed I was to the many torments of Trent's substantial arsenal. Some of the photos in Trent's profile galleries made Andre's and my own current treatment seem tame in comparison. What makes me a true bondage pig, I guess, is that this thought only served to increase my excitement and anticipation.
Focusing my exertions on my limbs, I pulled with both arms and legs with every ounce of my considerable strength. Andre... he is one ripped boy, though I'm no slouch. I've got a motley collection of single wrist and ankle restraints to prove it, too. Sometimes, when I'm intensely tied (especially when getting worked over by a top), adrenaline can take over. I seem to have no problem ripping apart poorly made restraints during a good struggle...and, from my perspective, a good ninety percent of the gear out there falls into this category. Rivets pop, buckles break, and leather tears. I toss out the casualty, and keep its mate as a trophy of sorts! Yeah, I'm sick...
I was trying my damnedest to put a slight dent in Trent's extensive gear collection, though I'm assuming that Humane Restraints are manufactured with "retard strength" in mind- lol! Encased in Trent's rope harness, my cock was as rock-hard as humanly possible. My pathetic thrashing shook the brass weights dangling above me into a continuous dance, which, in turn, sent a vigorous series of tugs and vibrations down the taut para cord that ultimately terminated at my cock. The effect was maddening, as the resultant sensations were enough to bring about a greatly heightened state of arousal, though not intense enough to grant me an orgasm.
Sweat ran down my face, and I could feel the rubbery Sportsheet beneath me beginning to slick up. While taking advantage of the fact that my head was still mobile, I began to take notice of the growing "aroma" from my pits that Trent had ordered. I too had enjoyed the scent of play partners before, but wasn't a fan of my own! Regardless, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, and had just closed my eyes in an attempt to focus only on physical sensations when Trent shouted laughingly from the great room at the other side of the archway.
"Are you fucking kidding me!? You brought restraints!? That's... that's like sending sand to the Sahara! Shipping snow to Siberia!" He reentered the room carrying a single piece of my gear from home. Trent stopped before me suddenly; staring with incredulity and shaking his head. "Brings his own restraints! Dumb ass!"
I blushed, then giggled a bit. "Always the Boy Scout, I guess!"
"Dumb ass!" repeated Trent, jokingly. He was having a blast- two willing playthings trussed up in his own home... why wouldn't he be? Hanging from Trent's fingers was my favorite head harness muzzle- I have a serious fetish for muzzles (leather, rubber, latex, etc...), and Sir was very aware of this fact. He held up the black and chrome mass of leather and buckles. "Is this the one, Hunter?"
"Yeah it is," I answered, grinning.
"Nice, but I like symmetry... consistency. Bondage is my art." I listened to my captor's explanation with rapt attention. "Let's compromise."
"It's your call, sir," I said, making a comical attempt at a shoulder shrug.
"Damn right it is, but I aim to please..." Trent said, trailing off as he made for the far side of the playroom. Seconds later he was standing before me displaying a head harness muzzle of a design similar to my own, though this specimen was even more strict. The straps were wider and the leather thicker- crafted from the same natural cowhide as the restraints immobilizing me. If uniformity was what Trent was after, he had achieved it.
Trent approached, and I lifted my head from the mattress without prompting. First the collar was attached, followed by the four roller buckles securing the muzzle. The thick leather pressed firmly against my cheeks, chin, and lips as Trent bore down on each successive buckle with as much tenacity as he'd demonstrated when trussing my limbs and torso. Two additional buckles required adjustment- the first was the central strap that runs along the midline of the wearer's head, from neck to brow. The second encircled my head, just above the ears. There we go. I was golden.
Trent, however, wasn't quite finished. He was holding what appeared to be a massively thick and wide collar... or was it just a repurposed thigh restraint? Regardless, it matched the rest of the gear in appearance. The built-in collar of the muzzle must have been two inches wide, which is wide indeed. THIS collar had a minimum width of three inches, and was easily twice the thickness of that which was attached to the muzzle. Trent chuckled to himself as he leaned over to add insult to injury, wrapping this intense piece of gear over the top of the relatively tame collar below it.
"Too much?" Trent asked, hovering over my leather-clad face. That "shit eating" grin was back.
I mmphed "No, sir," inaudibly beneath the muzzle while shaking my head.
"Good, then don't get used to doing that." I stared back at my captor. He must have seen the confusion in my eyes. "Shaking your head...I'm about to relieve you of that freedom," he clarified.
I settled my head onto the mattress and let it happen. The heavy exterior collar bristled with D-rings, and Trent was busy feeding the end of a strap through one positioned at the left side of my neck. The strap's ends were joined in a loop after Trent captured an attachment point at the respective side of the bed's framework. He cinched lightly before buckling this time, then scrambled to the opposite side of the bed. Trent applied an identical belt to one of the collar's right side D-rings, then captured the bed's framework, just as before. This buckle was wrenched a bit more tightly, though so was the first, only seconds later.
One final strap remained clutched in Trent's grasp. Leaning above me, Trent captured the topmost of the muzzle's D-rings, followed by a cross member at the center of the bed's frame, twenty inches or so above my head. The slotted end was fed through the roller buckle and pulled taut. My head was now racked as completely as the rest of my body. Perfection. Bliss. Ecstasy.
The drawer of the nightstand to my left was opened. Trent rummaged for a moment, then sat on the bed beside me and amongst the multitude of taut straps. He leaned onto my chest, drawing his face closer to my own. There wasn't a whole lot of exposed skin between the straps of the head harness, though Trent managed to plant a few tender kisses on my cheeks and forehead, followed by my chest, stomach, and arms. Trent ran his nose across my left armpit, breathing in deeply. "That's what a boy is supposed to smell like," he whispered, sighing.
Before sitting up, Trent held two clothespins before my eyes. Well... they were SHAPED like clothespins, but were metallic in construction, with springs that looked far more robust than what's required to hang a towel from a clothesline! Go for it, I thought. Not that I really had any say in the matter.
I moaned beneath the muzzle as the first clamp was applied to my right nipple, then uttered a deeper cry as Trent secured the second to my left. Sir smelled me again, then turned his attention to the taut para cord occupying the space between my cock and a pulley suspended from the bed's framing above. Trent flicked the cord with his index finger repeatedly, and in quick succession. He set the weights swinging through the air as the flicking resumed. Grunting like the piggy that I am, I flexed the muscles of my abdomen and legs in response to the intense stimulation.
Trent grabbed a hold of my bound junk without warning, bringing me to a near frenzied state. He just squeezed... only for moment, obviously aware of the fact that anything more would have resulted in a spectacular release. I wanted it desperately, but would only be deluding myself to entertain the notion that Trent would grant me this so soon. Then, as if my captor was in sync with his sub's thoughts, Trent climbed from the bed.
Through the extreme limits of my peripheral vision, I could see Trent making preparations at the open drawer of the same nightstand from which the nipple clamps had come. Was that the rustling of wires? Uh, oh. Wires indeed. I had only a vague impression of what was being done to my helplessly immobile body, but was sure of the fact that something had been wrapped around the head of my engorged cock, as well as around my balls. The material was soft- almost elastic. Chilly implements were also applied to my pecs, thighs, and the soles of my feet. I now knew my fate.
Something smooth was positioned beneath my bound balls as Trent chuckled sadistically. I was in for it, but this was exactly what I wanted... what I needed. Wasn't it? Trent stood beside the bed, towering above me and wearing a look of utter satisfaction. He stepped toward the open drawer of the nightstand, where I heard the barely audible click of a switch. A low humming filled the air and my body tensed. Every ounce of leather trussing me creaked under the strain of my ferocious tugging. The smooth, rounded surface propped under my balls was a vibrator wand!
A steady, mindless moaning poured from beneath the muzzle as Trent flipped yet more switches. "Andre needs a little attention. He's entering his fifth hour over there," laughed Trent. "I set the electro-stim to random. Random in both frequency AND intensity! Enjoy!" And with that, Trent walked away, choosing to ignore the muffled shriek that accompanied the first insidious pulse from the e-stim machine.
Note: Andre will be joining me in the next chapter...
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### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by Jason Toddman » Sun Jan 02, 2011 12:38 pm

Welcome back. Apparently you were away for a while. I hope it was an enjoyable vacation!
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by snobound » Sun Jan 02, 2011 2:03 pm

> Jason Toddman wrote:Welcome back. Apparently you were away for a while. I hope it was an enjoyable vacation!

Thanks, Jason! Great vacation.... L.A. and Vegas, baby! Of course, I go during the deluge of the century Story of my life. Rain, however, doesn't generally put a damper on drunken debauchery
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by sarumansauron » Mon Jan 03, 2011 11:04 am

Great continuation! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by snobound » Mon Jan 03, 2011 3:20 pm

I think I did a terrible job of describing the workings of Humane Restraint-style leather cuffs. I got a hold of my own set not long after my experience with Trent. These pics should clarify...
In this pic you can see the metal post that I kept referring to as a shackle in the story. I don't think shackle is the right word. What is? The slots on the right side of the restraint pass over the top of the metal post for adjustment.
DSC02981.JPG
DSC02982.JPG
DSC02988.JPG
DSC02993.JPG
The anchor straps that pass through the metal posts are lockable! Wicked cool!
DSC02992.JPG
The straps can be used to connect up restraints or tie the wearer down.... I prefer the latter!
DSC02998.JPG
Hope this helps!
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### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by cellofello » Tue Jan 04, 2011 12:45 am

> snobound wrote:In this pic you can see the metal post that I kept referring to as a shackle in the story. I don't think shackle is the right word. What is? The slots on the right side of the restraint pass over the top of the metal post for adjustment.

The word you're looking for is "staple."

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by xtc » Tue Jan 04, 2011 7:45 am

Thanks for the pics. They make things much clearer. Cellofellow has beaten me to it: "staple".
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by Jason Toddman » Tue Jan 04, 2011 7:50 am

Oh. I thought it was called a rivet. But I didn't realize it was the same piece as that staple-like thing in later pictures. Staple though does seem a more likely choice of word.
In my pm Snobund I was thinking of something that looked rather different than that after all - it was more like the button-snap on the front of your pants than like that thing.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by snobound » Tue Jan 04, 2011 1:45 pm

Thanks for the help, guys. This is the sort of thing that drives me nuts. Believe it or not, I've sent an email to Humane Restraint! I wonder if they'll respond. I will pass the info along if they do.
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by fratboydanny » Thu Jan 06, 2011 6:03 am

Great Story continuation! damn i wish i were Andre....
welcome back Hunter from the winter break. and thanks too for the show and tell on the restraints. especially with those red soccer socks...mmmmm

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by mikeybound » Sat Mar 09, 2013 9:16 am

Too bad he seems to be gone. I miss him

### Re: Canadian Hospitality... (m/mm) *Part 3*

Post by Jason Toddman » Sat Mar 09, 2013 9:54 am

> mikeybound wrote:Too bad he seems to be gone. I miss him

So do a lot of us.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...