It's been a little while.

I sincerely apologize for the lack of postings. School just started back up, and my life has been really, really hectic.

On the plus side, I managed to get a little labor day fun in. ;)

I'll leave this picture here as a teaser until I can find time in the next few days to give a proper update/story.

Gags.

Apologies for the lack of writing. Life’s been hectic.

Gags.

Bondage is not complete without one, in my opinion. What’s the point of being trussed up, tied up, tied down, strapped in, strapped up or strapped down, if you can still freely flap your gums?

There’s something extremely constricting in simply being unable to talk alone. Imagine if you just walked around all day without being able to talk? (This includes texting, writing etc. etc). Being unable to communicate with people is very isolating, when you think about it. And after all, isn’t isolation a theme with bondage from time to time? ;)

Duct-tape is the winning champion with me. It’s also something I’m the most picky about. If I try to blow air out of my mouth when I’m gagged with tape and it manages to escape, that means that the gag is fail, not tight enough, and needs to be done over again.

I’m a huuuuuge fan of Gorilla Tape. It’s thick, it’s black, it’s sweat resistant, its got some weight to it so it feels sturdy when it’s all over your face. You get the idea. The only drawback is facial hair. If you have lots of it, you might regret it. Being the smooth-skinned and pale individual I am, facial hair is rather thin.

The latex/PVC “bondage tape” stuff is a close second. The few times I’ve played with it though, I didn’t much like it. It slid around a bit from perspiration and moisture around the mouth. I think it works wonderfully alongside duct tape though, especially if you’re going to wrap it under the jaw and around the head, or to use it as a blindfold.

If there’s no tape around, muzzles are the way to go (or, they can just go overtop of it!).

The Bishops is quite possibly the best fucking thing to exist in my opinion, not only because of the versatility of the gags (just flat leather against your face, or one of the rubber plugs to gnaw on, etc.), but because the hood leaves the top of the head fairly open and it leaves the nose fully exposed. I’m someone who doesn’t tolerate full hoods well, and I don’t do good with heat either. I’ve played around in full hoods and sensory dep ones before, and they rate high on the list of things to give me an anxiety attack. If my nose is in any way covered or obstructed, I feel like I’m slowly suffocating, and even if I’m not, that feeling kills my mood quick.

However, if I’m gagged and only able to breathe out of my nose, by all means, feel free to stick a clothespin on it and watch me struggle. Breath control makes me happy! (poppers, gassing and choking however, does not).

-Let’s pause here for a safety moment!-

Not being able to talk sometimes poses risks in bondage scenes, as we can all pretty well assume. It’s that lack of communication and feeling of helplessness that really drives some people over the edge too, but I’m not one of those people most of the time. Don’t get me wrong, that shit really turns me on, but if something happens, I need to be able to get the word out to whomever I’m playing with. While I can understand that agreeing on some kind of “Woah! Stop!” signal can be a turn off for some people, because it gives them a guaranteed way out, but I am not those kinds o people. I usually play with the rule of “Two short grunts and a third long one means stop”, and even then, usually that just means take off the gag so I can speak, cause I’d rather just address whatever is wrong or unbearably uncomfortable, and then get back to business.

When I’m in the mood for some kink, I like bondage, and I like staying in it. I’d rather be comfortable and last longer than burnt out quickly and hitting limits from something overly stressful. ;)

-End safety moment-

One of the biggest things that turns me on about gags is that the only sounds you can get from someone who is gags is grunts and moans.

Hearing another guy just grunt and moan and whine is the greatest symphony to my ears.

Despite how talkative a person I am, when it comes to bondage, I’m rather quiet. Straight-up, no strings attached vanilla sex? I’m talkative and grunty and moany and just generally noisy as shit. If I’m gagged and bound and not making noise, then it means I’m rather bored with whatever is going on, or I’m asleep.

ProTip: Don’t let me be bored and asleep, please and thanks. ;)

Now, to round this entry off, here are a few favorite pics of mine of guys gagged. (Standard disclaimer: I didn't take these pics, they're not of me, but damn they're hot!)

Straitjackets.

Straitjackets.

The moment I first saw one, I was in love. I don’t know why. I can’t explain why. It simply just is.

It’s a bondage instrument of restraint, captivity and comfort; Three things I adore.

If you’re in one that’s been tailored to have a few extra buckles and straps, it’s virtually inescapable. You can’t move your arms at all, you can’t slide the jacket up off your body. It’s a device that leaves one feeling a sense of comfort as well. You can wiggle and move a bit, and having one’s arms across one’s chest is something that tends to bring a bit of comfort since you’re hugging yourself. The jacket can be strapped and pulled tight, to give that feeling of restraint and captivity that so many bondage enthusiasts chase after, and that tightness can work to the advantage of other devices as well. Crotch straps can pull whatever is under them up and closer to the body (perhaps maybe even shoving in any inserted anal toys in even deeper?) or act as a means to frame and cushion one’s crotch area.

My first time in one was last year, and once I was in it, I didn’t want to get out. I was wearing a leather jacket and leather pants under it, as well as a rather vibrant pair of blue boots that belonged to the guy I was playing with, Dogcatcher.

I was hooded and gagged, and the gag was a soft and squishy rubber plug with a breathing tube through it. It was quite comfortable, as was the hood. It left my nose fully open and exposed, which is a good thing. I’m not a fan of my nose being covered in any way, shape or form (unless of course, we’re venturing into breath-control territory). I’ve got a rather legitimate reason for this, as I’ve got a deviated septum. Only one nostril really works for me, so when I’m already in a situation where breathing through my mouth is impossible, just breathing through my nose alone feels like a slow suffocation to me sometimes. It’s like, no matter how deep a breath I try and take, it’s never enough. This isn’t really a problem for me though as long as I don’t thrash about or struggle too much, so it’s of no real serious concern. Being in heavy sensory dep hoods where the only air access one has is through two little metal ringlets that just happen to lay somewhere near the nostrils (but not exactly on them) has the effect of making “lose my shit”, for a lack of a better term, because it just feels like I can’t breathe at all, no matter how hard I try.

Anyway, I digress. I loved the hood.

My ankles were spread out with a spreader bar, and some chain was thrown over the straitjacket for added measure. As the photo below would show, I was quite happy



I was like this for about two hours, and after being untied and unhooded, I expressed how I –really- didn’t want out of the jacket, so Dogcatcher obliged my request, and tried out something different.

My arms were moved from the front of my body to the back of my body, and I was laid face down on the floor. He then took some saran wrap and duct-tape and individually wrapped each leg of mine up to my waist, and then taped both legs together, effectively turning the lower half of my body into one large chunk of….body.




Surprisingly, this position was extremely comfortable. I was like this for another 2 hours, and for some time, I was unconscious! It was a little too comfy, and as a result, I managed to get myself a little nap!

Currently, I’m still saving up for my own leather straitjacket, but within the next month or two I should have enough money in the bank to order me one. I’m so excited. :)

Socks, please.

I nabbed this pic from another blog (http://kinkpage.blogspot.com/), because it just so beautifully illustrates something that has recently been my obsession:

Being gagged with a dirty sock.

Now, I can’t really tell for sure if the sock in question is actually dirty or not, but for the sake of my discussion, we’re going to pretend it is.

Lately, I’ve taken to wearing a pair of Nike’s that a friend gave me (apparently size 13 feet are uncommon amongst his friend circle), and they seem to cause something that neither the Globes or the Vans that I own can do, which is cause my feet and my socks to acquire a rather musty (but pleasant) odor.

I’m not too much into feet or shoes, but if it’s one thing that’s always intrigued me, it’s the scent of my own feet, and after being on my feet for 8-10 hours a day?

Well, let’s just say that my bondage and kink fantasies of late involve attractive men taking me by force and making me taste and smell my own shoes and socks, especially when I’ve forgotten to do laundry and have to re-tread a pair for two days ;)

How it started ;)

I’m trying to think back to when my fetish eyes were opened. I wanna say I was 13 or 14 years old, and it was around the time the internet came to the computer I had in my bedroom.

I think in the beginning, it was leather. It was just all about the leather. I remember just browsing website upon website of leather jackets and motorcycle gear, drooling over it all. I don’t know why, and I can’t remember why, but I just did.

Eventually though, one would naturally expect to exhaust their sources of websites to browse, and as such, I did. Interestingly enough though, there was a conversation that occurred during lunch in high school around that time, where someone I knew started talking about “bondage” in a sexual context. I, being the extremely naïve and sheltered child that I was, asked what my friend meant by that. Well, without going into much detail, I faked sick, got to go home early, and ran right to Google with the term “leather bondage” waiting to be typed into the search field, and through an extremely long chain of events, here I am today.

This all occurred around the same time I was coming to terms with my own sexuality. Any sort of pornographic or sexual material I viewed was leather/kink related, and at first, I only wanted to look at men in images just because I was familiar with the male body. The female body just…weirded me out. It was all about the leather and the bondage, but over time, suddenly, it started to become about the men too. I’m not sure when that transition occurred, but it did.

It was around this time too that I started to play around on my own in the confines of my room. After looking at all the images of men tied up on the internet, I started to wonder what that was really like. There was an old brown leather bomber jacket that I found buried in a box in the attic, long forgotten by my dad, as well as a wetsuit that had ended up in our basement somehow (I think it was purchased to be worn on the Jetski we used to own, but since the Jetski was sold, no need for the wetsuit), and since my parents had just divorced, nobody had taken notice that both of those things had vanished into my bedroom.

I’d put on the jacket first, and then I’d put on the wetsuit over that. I’d just use a sweater or two to bind my ankles and knees together, and I had an old winter jacket that had a soft satin lining that I’d turn inside out and stuff around my crotch area for some padding (and something to rub up against ;) ). When I put on the wetsuit, I wouldn’t put my arms through the sleeves. I’d slide them down the insides of the suit and then pull the zipper up on it with my teeth (the zipper had a long lanyard attached to it).

I used to spend SO many hours each night like that, tied up and restrained as best as I could restrain myself, rolling around on my bed, getting hot and sweaty. I wore that jacket out eventually, and an unfortunate accident with a wet towel turned the leather into a mold-covered mess, and it had to get tossed. The wetsuit eventually reappeared in the basement under a pile of old clothes one night, after one of my parents was overheard wondering aloud where it had gotten too.

I’ll still play around with myself like that from time to time too, seeing as I’ve got a wetsuit of my own now, as well as a leather jacket, and a few other goodies (leather chaps, sleepingbag, buttplug, and bungee cords ;) )

Initially, the wetsuit just served as a means for self-bondage, since it was something I could get into easily, held my arms to my body tightly, and would provide that encapsulated, tight, restricting feeling. I could also tie the arms behind my back on the suit (since it was kinda large) and turn it into a makeshift straitjacket. I didn’t have much of an attraction to them at all, but after playing with the one I had for so long, they became an integral part of my kink compass. Now, my kink and bondage fantasies no longer just involve leather, ropes and straitjackets, but neoprene and wetsuits too.

To conclude this chunk of “how I got into kinky shit”, here’s a pic of myself I took awhile back.

Wetsuit on first, with leather chaps on over that. Leather gloves and two leather jackets, as well as a tapegag.

Now all I need is someone to come up being me with some rope….. ;)

(Thanks for reading! Future blog posts topics: straitjackets, rope-bondage/hogites, gags, shoes/feet and duct-tape ;))