MIKEY BOUND
Mikey wanted encouragement. I took him at his word, so now he’s tightly tied up in my living room. There’s a lot of “mmmppphhhing” but it looks like he’s not going anywhere soon. He looks really frustrated at times, and his struggles rise and fall, with lots of panting in between.
Mikey is 20 years old and lives in New York. We got together recently to chat about his love of bondage so I agreed to let him experience a good tie-up or two. The present chair tie is one of my favorites. I told Mikey to dress warm because my garage is kind of cold at this time of year, so he came wearing a heavy, bulky cable-knit turtleneck, black skinny jeans and black vans with white socks.
“How do you want to tie me first?” he asked, after we had a couple of drinks to relax. I pointed to the heavy metal high-backed chair in the garage and gently directed him outside. It must have been 10-15 degrees cooler there. Mickey muttered, “bbrrr!” as he pulled the thick turtleneck collar up closer to his chin line, and squeezed the fold closer to his neck.
I offered him my black leather motorcycle jacket, which he gladly accepted, zipping it up in front and then on both sleeves. He turned the collar up behind his neck. I handed him a knitted cap, which was large for his head and came down close to his eyes, resting on his brown eyebrows. There was still three inches of fold that could easily be turned down, I figured.
“Have a seat,” I commanded, and pulled his leather clad arms behind the chair, and began wrapping 20 feet of ¼” hemp rope around his right wrist, followed by many random loops going around his left wrist, pulling both wrists closer, and cinching the horizontal loops vertically, numerous times. Mickey’s fingers flailed in the air as he desperately sought to find a knot. The black leather creaked as the ropes got tighter.
“Relax,” I whispered in his left ear, as I completed tying Mickey’s wrists in an x-fashion tightly behind his back. He closed his eyes and groaned. “Like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Yes what?” I demanded.
“Yes Sir!” he yelled out. He realized he was not likely to go anywhere now, especially since I was securing each ankle to the front legs of the chair, cinching each ankle a number of turns, and then proceeding up to his knees, tying rope around his upper calf and lower thigh to the heavy chair.
I decided it was time for a gag. ‘You ready, Boi?” I asked holding a thick leather plug gag in front of Mikey’s wide eyes.
“Yes Sir!” he meekly replied.
I grabbed his long brown hair and gently pulled his head backwards. “Open up...” which he did with a small glint of fear in his eyes, as he knew that once he was gagged there was no way out of the oncoming network of rope. And he had agreed to see how long he could endure my bondage, possibly up to 24 hours or maybe even the entire weekend.
I pushed the leather plug slowly into his now accepting pouty lips. He complained, which came out: “aarrraaagggrrrr!” I quickly grabbed the two ends and threaded the two-inch wide buckle securely behind his neck, pulling the top of his turtleneck up over the edge of the gag. I snapped a small lock through the gag buckle, which meant that even if he wanted to there was no escape from that leather plug until I said so.
He was trying desperately to escape from the rope surrounding his wrists, and I just chuckled, grabbling a white pile of ¾” cotton braided rope from my bag of goodies, and wound this tightly around his chest, biceps, forearms, neck and wrists, creating an intricate pattern of ropes, that, when I pulled the end would slowly get tighter, pulling his wrists up to a series of knots behind his back and definitely out of reach of his fingers.
Every time Mikey would move an arm or limb or heave forward I would grab more rope and tighten that part of his muscular body to different tension points on the chair. I had found that a rope tied to someone’s hands should not be pulled down too hard, because of the three loops over my victim’s neck and then back down. Mickey realized too much attempted escape could cause restriction on his air flow.
That didn’t stop him from trying. I tied it in such a way that whenever he ceased struggling and relaxed back to the original bound position, the ropes would loosen on his neck, to his obvious relief-- and frustration.
Mikey squirmed around, luxuriating in his newfound cocoon of rope. If he started to close his eyes the rope would tighten on his neck if he relaxed too much, so this caused his to stay awake and alert to his predicament. I pulled the knitted cap down over his brown eyes to the edge of the tip of his nose. I took a bandana and tied this tightly around his eyes, placing my “boi” in complete darkness.
Then I pulled the tight cable-knit neck of his grey turtleneck collar up and over his eyes nose, over the knitted cap. He shook his head back and forth rapidly trying to remove the fabric off his face, but the thick material barely budged, sliding down ever so slowly and maddeningly.
“OK, boi, you have two hours to escape. Go!”