Tuesday, 22 May 2018

Cathy turns me into an object.

Blog - Cathy turns me into an object.

Anybody who has read my posts here or my blog - PETERMACS.BLOGSPOT.CO.UK - may recall I met, as a favour to a friend, with a lady called Cathy a while ago with surprising and very enjoyable results.

We’ve met regularly since but at her request there have been no pictures - not for me anyway, she has plenty and I get to see them just not have a copy, and no blog.

This is after all somebody with a name and a career to protect. Not that she is well known generally, but she is very well known in her circle and the kind of activities we get up to would be very much frowned upon.

Well, we had a session recently that Cathy has given her agreement to me documenting - still no pictures alas.

It started a few weeks ago when, after a full evening of very strict bondage, and with me still tied up very tightly, she ungagged me and told me she wanted to have a discussion and put a proposal to me.

Anyone who knows me well will know that if I am head to toe in rainwear I will pretty much agree to anything. Add bondage and basically the answer is yes.

She basically outlined her idea thus:

“I adore tying you up in the same way, probably more if I am honest, that I used to with my husband. Don’t get me wrong it is everything I need and I want it to carry on for the foreseeable future. (My mind, which had been hurtling down the “this is not working for me” route, instantly relaxed). 

However, since I enjoy it so much, and I know you do, I want to push the boundaries and try some other things.”

I urged her to go on as I was certain that anything should would guest to me whilst I was tied up/down in this way was going to be in the realms of extending our fetish play and not, for instance, being a vegetarian for a month.

“I want to turn you into an object. Not for me to use but for others to use. More specifically I want to dress you up, hood you and then take you to a dogging site where, under my very strict supervision you’ll give blow jobs to several men.”

She must have seen the look of alarm on my face as she quickly added.

“I want to measure you for a hood, very thick rubber, that has a totally sealed mouthpiece that will allow you to take a penis in your month and do what is necessary but never be in danger of infection. I will also insist that each person is cleaned under my supervision and wears a condom that I will provide. I’ve seen the right hood online but as it is made to measure I need to measure you first.”

Needless to say I agreed and she set about measuring me according to the suppliers guidance. Once finished measuring me she gagged me again, hooded me and with a parting comment about needing to do some online shopping, left me bound, gagged and hooded for quite a long while more.

We did discuss the matter again but not in any depth and I got the impression that she may have gone off of the idea upon reflecting on it.

A few weeks later any suggestion that she might have gone cold on the idea disappeared when I got a text message that said “so excited, your parcel has arrived. Call me later as I need to make sure it fits so we can plan our evening out”.

Obviously I was as excited as her and so I arranged to pop by her house for a coffee after work and to try the hood.

The hood is incredible. Very thick latex with no eye holes, nostril holes for breathing and slightly less thick latex mouthpiece.

I was initially worried that the mouthpiece would make me gag but it is surprisingly flexible and when not “in use” I can simply push if forwards with my tongue.

Two zips close the hood at the back and the value of it being made to measure was immediately apparent. It really did fit perfectly. Close but not in a stretched over my face kind of way and thick enough to exclude pretty much all sound and certainly all light.

Moreover as a bloke with an 18.5 inch neck, it was great to feel a hood being done up that fired my neck. The final piece was an attached collar of roughly two inches with d rings all the way around.

I never asked how much it was as that would be rude but it was clearly a lot and the quality shone through.

Cathy took the opportunity to explain further how the afternoon and evening would work.

She added an afternoon as according to her we’d need some time to prepare and get in the mood before we set off for the location.

She explained that I’d be dressed in clothes yet to be decided with boots and gloves so that the only bit of me exposed or visible to the world would be my nostrils.

When we got there we’d be using an old fishing chair  which had the multiple benefits of being very strong and low to the ground so that the receiver could approach me comfortably. She reminded me that I’d be in no position to move!

All sounded good and I left her place with a sense of anticipation.

Well the day came and I arrived at Cathy’s just after lunch time with a selection of clothes she’d instructed me to bring. She told me that she’d be dressing me now for the rest of the day but that she’d obviously keep the hood until we got there.

From my selection of clothes Cathy instructed me to wear in order, my red plastic bloomers, my all in one nylon boiler suit followed by my all in one yellow hooded PVC boiler suit. For the feet she chose my very shiny black rubber riding boots and covering my hands she produced no less than three brand new pairs on rubber gloves. Two were my standard issue black Tesco jobs, one in medium and the other in large. Over these she placed a pair of very heavy black rubber gauntlets. She explained that she wanted not one single bit of me exposed to the world but needed me to be comfortable enough to withstand two separate bouts of bondage, after which she rather absentmindedly said “well three actually”. I missed the significance of this throwaway comment.

She then produced the chair we’d be using later and placed in in the middle of the kitchen and told me to sit and make myself comfortable. Fishing chairs like this are perfectly made for long periods of sitting and doing nothing and so it was easy to find a comfortable position. 

She then set about tying my arms behind my back at the wrists, using loads of rope so that I was secure but there was no pressure on my wrists to ensure I had no circulation issues.  Following this she tied my legs, quite possible more tightly than I had had then tied before. Straight out in front of me she tied my ankles, calves, above and below the knee and thighs with each rope pulled tightly, cinched and then attached to the ones about and below. 

She ensured I was OK with this and then used twenty separate straps to strap my shoulders and then my entire body from shoulders to thighs to the chair. During all of this I was able to observe the who affair in the mirror she’d placed in front of me just for that purpose. She knows how much I love to watch myself get properly strapped up.

Sitting there dressed and literally unable to move, the feeling was wonderful.

Then came what she described as the final act, the icing on the cake, and the moment that I’d transform from tied up Peter to an object. The hood!

Before this, given she was dressed in a rubberised cotton riding mac and highly polished leather riding boots, she opened the mac to reveal a strap-on. We’d discussed her using one on me but this was not to be the day for that, she explained that this afternoon would be a dry run and that the strap-on was so she could “test me”. Besides she said, “it will be fun!!”.

Carefully she eased the hood over my face and pulled it tightly at the back and that wonderful sensation descended upon me of really relaxing totally. She spent quite some time adjusting things before declaring herself happy and zipping the hood up at the back and doing the collar up. The hood of my yellow PVC boiler suit was then pulled over my head, pulled very tight and tied off covering my eyes (not that I could see).

She then placed a set of shooting ear defenders over my ears and whilst this was hardly necessary from a hearing perspective, the hood being as thick as it was had taken most of my hearing from me and all of my sight, it added to the degree of bondage and thus comfort I felt.

Minutes later I felt the mouth insert being pushed gently into my mouth and filled with the strap on.

I tested that I could function properly as the object she wanted me to be and found it surprisingly comfortable.  

And there I sat for at least two hours whilst she bustled about her daily activities and I have to say I loved it. The anticipation of what was to come that evening along with clothes and very strict bondage made for a very comfortable afternoon.

As is often the case when I am properly tied up, I drifted in and out of sleep - dozing more than sleeping - and felt her hands on my head every now and then to make sure I was OK. Unable to hear properly or speak much, we’d agreed that when she touched my head I was to nod (my head being the only bit of me I could move) to signify I was OK.

Each time she touched me I nodded, not wanting for ones minute to be let out of my captivity to soon. However as all good things must come to an end and we had to get ready to go out, eventually I felt the hood of my boiler suit being undone and pulled back and the collar and zips of my new hood being released and the hood being gently pulled off of my head.

I am fine my surprise when instead of Cathy, I saw Anne - the person who’d introduced us in the first place.

Fazed only slightly and momentarily, I soon regained my usual sangfroid as simply asked where Cathy was, having first of course greeted Anne - she returned my greeting by bending down and hugging my still tightly bound body. Anne explained she had a conference call or two to attend and she had asked Anne to help her keep a watch over me. I asked how long she had been here and the reply was a surprise as Anne told me that literally a minutes or two after the hoods had been applied she had arrived and had been with me ever since.

Anne did say that she rather envied me as I did look relaxed and peaceful!

Anne untied me and suggested I go and get showered and then back into exactly the same clothes combination I had on right now. Which I did.

Coming back to the kitchen I found both Cathy and Anne discussing the evening and was told that Anne would be coming with us to assist and also to add numbers in case anyone started anything.

And so we were finally ready to set off, me dressed as instructed when Cathy said “wait, we’ve forgotten something very important”  at which she instructed me to undress totally. Being used to doing as I am told I did so, even though I was a bit bewildered and stood in the kitchen stark bollock naked in front of both Anne and Cathy. They were both fully dressed in matching shiny leather riding boots (with jodhpurs) and tightly belted rubberised cotton riding macs from Cordings.

Cathy explained that she’d being discussing with Anne about how she likes to tie my genitals up and wanted to show Anne how to do it.

And so I had the very erotic experience of Cathy giving Anne a lesson in testicular bondage and then undoing the bondage and letting Anne try it out. Anne’s was tighter and once my genitals were tightly tied I was told to bend over and a small and flexible butt-plug was carefully inserted and I was told  I could dress again and did so with them watching closely.

And so I, with everything but my hoods on, was escorted to Anne’s car and told to get in the back behind the passenger seat. They got into the front and we drove off. Me slightly disappointed as I wondered if I might have been tied up in the car. Later I was told that could not have happened as it was still light when we left and then fear of being overseen by a passer by or neighbour meant I needed to get from front door to car in very quick time.

After about a 45 minute drive we arrived at the venue which appeared to be a car park at the back of a disused, or at least underused, industrial estate and there were a lot of cars there already even if it was not quite dark. Dusk I’d say.

In no time after arriving both ladies donned thin rubber masks of their own before getting out of the car showing eyes, mouth and nostrils to very good effect and I was told to stay put whilst they set up the chair. With the chair in place I was told to get out of the car and get into the chair and to once again make myself comfortable. 

I did so and Anne attached the safety device to my finger. The safety device is a simple wireless bell push taped to my index finder that allows me to buzz a bell in the event of me being in difficulty. One buzz for “stop, give me a minutes” and two buzzes for, “stop and please untie me”.

Sitting and with the buzzer tested to everyone’s satisfaction, they first inserted foam rubber ear-plug in my ears,  hooded me, zipped it up, pulled the yellow suit hood over my head and tied it down placed the ear defenders on my and set about tying me up.

With two people doing the tying it was swift, and dare I say it even more strict. The result being Peter turned properly into an object with the only movement being available to me being my index finger, my head and my mouth!

What followed was what I can only describe as one of the most thrilling events of my life and one that Cathy subsequently described as being like a boot-fair for the kinky and fetish minded.

Business was slow to start with but as the evening wore on became hectic. I have no idea how many men I serviced that evening, it was a lot and the fascinating thing was that bestie the thick rubber sheath in my mouth, and the fact that each recipient was required to wear two condoms, I could tell the different widths and sizes easily.

Clearly so bodily fluids made it near me but I could easily feel each time the recipient built up to come and then did - sperm is surprisingly warm :)

The evening done, I was untied from my chair but remained hooded and with my wrists firmly tied behind my back, and then helped into the boot of Anne’s car - she has an Audi Q7 and so I was blessed with a load of space.

Cathy and Anne then tied me up again, not too strictly but with ankles, knees and shoulders very firmly tied and strapped and then, with me laying on my side, hog tied me very tightly indeed. The safety device remained in place.

As I settled down to enjoy the ride one further surprise was offered when I felt a vibrator being applied and I have to say it took me no time to explode into my plastic pants such was my state of arousal at that time! Anybody who knows me, and may have tied me up, knows that after an orgasm I only want out, of the clothes and the bondage.

However this was not to be the case as later on, after we were at Cathy’s place enjoying a glass or two of wine, my final session of being an object was to have to stay there, in my mess and my clothes and my bondage - to “enforce the fact that I had no choice” were the words used by Cathy and Anne.

Oh, and like I was not tied up enough, just before they closed the tailgate on my, they put a rather large, if soft, ball-gag in my mouth and strapped it tightly to my head. 

The journey home was fantastic and when we got home and I’d had the hoods and gags removed, I was given the choice of staying dressed as I was or getting cleaned up and changed, I chose to stay dressed!

Saturday, 17 March 2018

Then Captive’s Revenge.

The captive’s revenge.

A while ago I reported on a session with Bondophile at which, with his agreement he was held captive in a lot of rainwear and in some very tight bondage.

I know how much he enjoyed the session, as much as me. What I had not realised was just how miffed he was that he couldn’t escape as he prides himself on his Houdini skills.

Needless to say as he had been kind enough to share with me a lot of his techniques I was, along with many layers of rainwear and a HUGE amount of bondage, to keep him captive.

He and I discuss scenarios all of the time and one of them is that we go fishing (the sitting beside the bank dressed in rainwear not the trawler kind of fishing) where we could both be legitimately dressed to thrill and I’d tie him up and then down in some style.

Thus I’d be able to respond to fellow anglers who always ask the same thing “caught anything yet?” With “yes, just the one”. Not adding of course that the “one” was a distinguished gentleman from Scotland dressed head to toe in rubber and PVC, booted, buckled, belted, hooded, gagged and tied up and that should they want proof, they simply had to look in my bivvy!

Another scenario for Bondophile at least, is where he gets captured by real fishermen, the kind who wear Helly Hansen gear for work and not fun (though personally I just don’t see how you can wear this kind of stuff and it NOT be fun!

The fishermen restrain him for some reason, but not totally and then in punishment for him trying to escape they wrap him in a fishing net and tie him up properly.

A lot of our scenarios have a similar theme and central to this is Helly Hansen Nusfjord gear, boots, hoods and bondage.

And so, as is the way of these things we ended up arranging a day out, I say a day as this particular event was tabled to last 24 hours. We’d both become quite enamoured with the idea of dressing up as fishermen and him being bound in all sorts of gear and then finally wrapped and bound in a fishing net.

Well lo and behold there are a couple based down in Hastings who offer just such a scenario, not cheap as they really are fishermen and have a bona fire fishing boat. But because the EU are idiots over British fishermen being able to fish in British waters there are many days where the boat is laid up and can’t work. 

These two enterprising bondage enthusiasts just happen to be co-owners of this boat and through Recon we got into contact.

They suggested an 8AM start which would allow me and them to keep Bondophile captive for 24 hours in a variety of positions - some gentle some very strenuous indeed. All of which suited me as he’d be the one getting all of the bondage - the lucky bugger.

Dave and Rob, the fishermen asked us to write an email to them explaining pretty much what we’d like to happen and that they would then ensure that most or maybe even all of it would happen but, and with this they sought our permission, with some of their own input and desires acted out.  They asked us not to collude too much or share with each other what we wanted so as to preserve an element of surprise.

What I asked for was that both of us turn up, dressed head to toe as fishermen, park the car, embark and off we set as if we are on a regular fishing trip.

After having set sail, with very little reason and virtually no discussion Bondophile would be taken downstairs for a pre-agreed bondage session. 

Two of us (the third being focussed on skippering the boat) would then tie Bondophile up, head to toe having gagged and blindfolded him, wrap him in a fishing net and tie him to the physical structure of the boat.

He would, as ever, try to escape and any sign of escape or the loosening of his bonds would simply result in me applying more and more until he lost the ability to move totally and became at one with the boat.

People who play the kind of games Bondophile and I do fall, in my experience, into two main categories. There are those who fantasise a lot and are VERY specific about what they want and leave no room for play or creativity. These people often don’t turn up for sessions and are, frankly, a bit of a drag. Then there are the other who will have some idea, often quite specific, about what they want but once the dressing up has taken place and the bondage starts, are happy with whatever happens thereafter.

Both Bondophile and I fit into the latter category and pretty much anything goes.

I collected Bondophile at home and we dispensed with any fun and games for the journey apart from being properly dressed for the 24 hours. I had my Helly Hansen Voss suit on inside out, two nylon Portwest boiler suits and the full bib ‘n’ braces and jacket Nusfjord ensemble in yellow. Plus of course waders.

Every inch the fisherman apart from the fact that my gear was impeccably clean.

I actually have no idea what Bondophile had on underneath his HH Nusfjord gear, but outwardly he and I were identically dressed.

The drive from Bondophile’s place in London was easy and very pleasant, with us discussing a lot of matters including a lot of discussion about the forthcoming 24 hours.  It’s fair to say, and to use a very common phrase, that when we arrived at the appointed place in Hastings, we were both gagging for it!

Dave and Rob met us at the car park and helped us carry our cases, we’d both packed for a combination of overnight stay and with extra rainwear just in case. I also had my iPad and so on as I intended to clear off a lot of work whilst sitting below desk in my finery watching over my captive.

Once on board we stashed our stuff below deck, which was surprisinginly spick and span and the four of us sat down and chatted over coffee.

Dave, who was very obviously in charge, explained how he and Rob saw the next 24 hours unfold and added that unless we actually wanted to, we would not set sail as that was a bit of a faff and also that for the bondage they had planned, both of them would be needed. This seemed totally reasonable to both of us and so we agreed, no need to sail as Bondophile’s experience of being tied up by fishermen on a boat would still come true even when docked!

And so, with very little delay we agreed the session would start and what the safe word/phrase would be. Once again we decided that as Bondophile would be gagged for a good portion of the time the old “humming the national anthem” system would work just fine.

Dave then announced that the session had started and, clearly in control (with my agreement) instructed Bondophile to undress down to total nakedness!

This was the first deviation from from we’d both expected and I was very interested to see what would happen next. What happened was a number of things.

First off Bondophile was told to go to the toilet and make every effort to “empty himself” as this would be his last opportunity to do so “unsupervised”.

He did and came back looking somewhat sheepish - not a surprise given he was a stark bollock naked Scotsman who’d just had a shit in the company of three fishermen decked out in yellow HH gear.

Rob summoned Bondophile over and knelt in front of him and deftly applied some very firm bondage to his genitals. With penis and testicles tightly tied Bondophile was then given a choice of “nappy or no nappy”. He, foolishly in my opinion chose no nappy and was then invited to get dressed exactly as he had been before. 

This included a skin tight rubber catsuit, his Helly Hansen Voss suit, waders and then his Helly Hansen Nusfjord kit.

With me watching and, with all parties agreement, taking photos and videos of the entire event, they set about “preparing him” as they put it.

With the hoods down on both Voss and Nusfjord jackets they first confirmed the safeword procedure and then set about him with an efficiency I admire. They’d clearly done this before and it was fascinating to watch.

First off they inserted foam rubber ear-plugs - the kind issued at noisy events such as Grands Prix and then gagged him. The gag was serious but not onerous as they first inserted a quite sizeable piece of sponge into his mouth and with the ability to speak removed they wrapped his face in cling film. Bondophile is heavily bearded and it was odd seeing his beard compressed to his face and I thought immediately that he was in for an itchy old time with that gag on.

Having wrapped his face they then wrapped the rest of his head leaving his nose very clearly exposed and thus leaving him the ability to breath freely and also hum the national anthem.

Shortly after that I saw the real reason for the cling film - duck tape! The got to work with his head with admirable effort and energy wrapping it around from the forehead down to the jaw - leaving the nose alone and then in an even more impressive show of intent that he would not escape - wrapped his head under his jaw and over the head. The result was a head with a nose and the rest being white duck tape. Very impressive indeed.

Next they set about his hands with the same meticulous attention to detail they had shown with his head. First they put a black rubber gloves and then they wrapped his hand totally in cling film - I could already see where this was going!

With even more attention to detail they wrapped his hand in duck tape - starting by binding his pinkie to the finger next - two wraps, then those two bound fingers to the next - two wraps and so on. By the time they got to his thumb they’d wrapped so much tape around his hand and wrist he looked like he was wearing a white boxing glove. They repeated the exercise with his other hand and stood back to admire their work and to let me take a couple of pictures.

A close up revealed just how aroused Bondophile was already and I rather enjoyed the fact that he’d be tied up even more for quite a long time and whilst he would experience some very serious sexual enjoyment as a result, he’d also be very frustrated as I’d instructed Dave and Rob that I wanted Bondophile tied with such severity he literally would not be able to move a muscle.

They then lead Bondophile over to a very stout part of the boat’s structure that went from floor to ceiling but had clearly been prepared for just such activity as it was heavily padded with a kind of pillow arrangement at the top that could be adjusted. I guessed this was to ensure their “guest” could be secured, head and all, without experiencing difficulty or too much discomfort.

Guiding Bondophile to reverse onto the pole they pulled his arms behind him and the pole and with the roping skills you’d expect from professional sailors/fishermen, tied his wrists very securely indeed. Even at this stage in the bondage it was my estimate that he’d not be able to escape.

And then came a simply glorious exercise in bondage application, one that was truly wonderful to observe - so wonderful that I was properly aroused just photographing and observing.

They started at the top and in turn tied him up and then tied him to the pole. No fewer that eight lengths of rope tied his torso up and to the pole and the same number for legs and lower body. By the time they’d finished there was actually very little HH Nusfjord to be seen and a heck of a lot of rope. And needless to say there was no way he was going anywhere.

In fact when they stopped, stood back and stated they were done I was perfectly happy but puzzled by two things. I’d asked that they wrap his bound body in a heavy fisherman’s net, which they had not and they had not secured his head to the pole.

Gently, as I didn’t want to offend, I enquired as to the absence of both and was told that in fact Bondophile had arranged a small surprise of his own and they would now be getting around to that. 

Sensing that this involved me in some way I tensed slightly and had my worst fears and wildest dreams at the same time confirmed by Dave who told me that Bondophile had requested I be tied up exactly as he had been.

Dave made it clear that they’d been paid separately by Bondophile for this service and they intended to carry it out whatever my wish.

Now of course, sitting there dressed from head to toe in HH Nusfjord with my own waders on, excited to the point of bursting at what I’d just witnessed and I am told the same fate is to befall me! Did I agree, of course I did, willingly.

I too was told to undress, make myself comfortable and come back. As I had my own genitals tied up I was offered a nappy and seeing the predicament they’d placed Bondophile in, opted to have one and experienced the exquisite humiliation of having an adult nappy fitted by Dave.

I dressed again and  they set about me in exactly the same way as they had Bondophile - with one very odd difference - I could see no pole to which I could be similarly tied.

Once they had me with earplugs and my head bound, with hands immobilised in the same way as Bondophile’s, I learned why there was no need for a second pole.

After having my wrists very securely tied behind my back I was guided gently forward and placed face to face with the tightly bound figure of Bondophile.

They set about tying me up from ankles to shoulders in a way that frankly I have never been tied before, strict does not begin to describe the quality of the bondage yet such was their skill it was wonderfully comfortable.

Then came what they both agreed later was not in either script but was their plan all along, they tied me, face to face, to Bondophile.

Ropes all up and down our combined bodies pulled together and so tightly we were two men become one.

Now, Bondophile is a gay man and I am not, but as I have often stated when I am tied up I care little for these labels and consider myself to be free.

I don’t mind saying that the feeling of being face to face, in my gear and trussed so tightly I could not move, was fantastic.

However, Dave and Rob had clearly not finished as they then manoeuvred our faces together ensuring noses didn’t clash and were free, and then used a simply HUGE amount of tape to bind our heads together and finally to the pole.

Now it sounds like a cliche but, just when I thought the bondage could not get any tighter, they started to wrap our combined bodies and pole in fishing net.

We stayed bound together for a long time and I am happy to admit that such was my level of arousal that the nappy was put to very good use, twice, in catching the results of my orgasm!

The feeling of disappointment at being untied later that evening was significant and I longed to be tied up again.

Dave and Rob then provided a very enjoyable evening meal at which they asked both Bondophile and I if they could tie us up again - but not to a script!

We both readily agreed but that is another story to be told another day.

Monday, 12 February 2018

The captive’s journey home.

The drive home.

After a very rewarding day, Bondophile never got free, it was time to pack up and get my captive back home.

We’d allowed plenty of time for both our session plus time for him to shower and dress more normally and in due course he presented himself, latex cat suit, SBR mac and riding boots, looking a little flushed but certainly none the worse for his adventure.

I’d loaded the car by this time but kept a few bits and pieces back for the journey home. Bondophile knew this would be the case and so I slipped the ball gag back in, simply blindfolded him with a strip of black latex and put the crash helmet back on. That was followed by two fresh pairs of black rubber gloves.

He was now unable to see or talk but could hear.

Maybe to his surprise I then told him to hold his hands behind his back and place his palms together.

I tied his gloved wrists tightly together using several lengths of rope, firstly to spread the load over his wrists so as not to cause circulation issues and secondly to secure him properly. Needless to say I cinched the rope properly.

Next came what I thought was a nice touch aimed at preventing those clever fingers from getting to the knots. I used superglue to bind the palms and fingers of the gloves together (I’d tested this a few days before to ensure that the gloves didn’t react to the glue) and then neatly taped his hands together with a decent amount of tape.

With him ready for the trip home I took him out to the car and instead of getting him into the back (I’d loaded all of the stuff there anyway), had him sit on the lip of the hatch back and with two long lengths of rope tied his ankles and knees.

I had, thoughtfully I thought, placed a pillow so his head had somewhere to rest and I eased him into position. Once safely installed in the car with head resting, I then added two more bondage devices in that, as you’d expect me to have done, I hogtied him. A rope through the wrist bondage and feet and then pulled tightly.

I am certain at that point he was comfy in his bondage and would start to struggle any minute.

However to frustrate this I then used some more rope to lash his feet and wrists to the luggage points in the boot of the car.

I then simply reminded him of the safety procedure and shut the boot and left him to it.

Needless to say the drive home was boring as I could not play music as I needed to be able to hear him.

All I actually heard was him trying to break free, which he didn’t partly I imagine as in the restricted area of the boot even with the relatively simple bondage I’d applied, he could not move much.

Five miles from his home I pulled over in a large supermarket car park, parked at the distant and quite end and let him free.

His last five miles home was lovely as he got to describe to me how he felt during captivity and we agreed that we would do something similar again.

I have in mind to take him fishing or camping where he can spend several hours lashed to my fishing bed!