strappedown:They were little neon orange foam ear plugs. I remember using them when I’d gone to th
strappedown: They were little neon orange foam ear plugs. I remember using them when I’d gone to the firing range with some buddies of mine who were police officers. You rolled and squeezed them with your thumb and forefinger, and then slip them into your ear. They would then slowly expand and block out most of the noise from the pistols. He had smiled and said it was the first piece of gear he wanted me to wear. I was kneeling in front of him, naked. Over the past hour since I’d arrived he’d ordered me to remove one piece of clothing at a time. The very first had been my shoes, as I arrived at his door. Not a polite request, but a quiet and authoritative order: “Remove your shoes.” I had obeyed. Before dinner he told me to remove my jacket. He had retrieved a wooden hanger, and as I set about taking off my suit coat, I felt his touch as he helped me slip it off. It had been subtle, that touch, but I realized as he placed it in his closet that he had once again not asked, but told me, and I had complied.After dinner we sat on the couch in his living room talking. The topics of conversation had been light and pleasant, nothing overtly sexual, yet there was a delicious tension that seemed to be building. Looking back I realized he had been in control of the conversation the entire evening, answering some of my questions with questions of his own, and occasionally abruptly changing the subject. It had been abrupt, when had he suddenly told me to remove my necktie. He used the same cool, confident, authoritative voice that seemed to hypnotize me into action. I hadn’t paused for even a moment. My hands responded immediately. As soon as I had loosened it, he took the end and firmly pulled, sliding it around and off my neck. He had folded it gently and placed it neatly on the coffee table, continuing the conversation as if nothing had occurred. He was still wearing the tie, jacket, and shoes he had answered the door with. It was somehow symbolic of our inequality. He was the giver of orders, I was the taker. The two sided conversation slowly came to an end. I had become a silent listener. He spoke to me, slowly and quietly. It had come as no surprise to me when he told me to remove my trousers, and later my dress shirt, socks and underwear. Each time he would carefully take each article of clothing and hang it up in the closet, or fold it neatly on his coffee table. Then his one-sided conversation would continue.I don’t remember all of the details of what he said, although later I spent a great deal of time trying to remember. It had been mostly about recent events in his life, his work and his opinions. I had listened to all of it, fascinated both by his monologue, but also by what was happening and how quickly I had come to obeying his every command. When I had been stripped and exposed completely, I knelt. He hadn’t asked me to kneel, it just seemed the thing to do. The story he had been telling had come to a natural end, and there was silence. He had stood above me. He had smiled down at me. He had reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out those neon orange ear plugs. “Enough talking.” he said, “This is the first piece of gear you are to put on.” I took them, rolled them tightly, and placed them in my ear. As they expanded, slowly blocking out most sound, he smiled and motioned for me with his finger to follow him. He led me to the hallway where he retrieved a thick, padded leather hood that sat on a narrow table there. I had kneeled again, and he expertly plunged my head into a plush leather darkness. The lacing on the back of the hood had seemed to tighten at superhuman speed. It had multiplied the noise dampening effect of the earplugs tenfold. As the hood tightened into place and the collar was tightened snug around my neck I grunted slightly and realized how very little I could hear. Then I felt hands, multiple hands, helping me up, and leading me forward. He hadn’t been alone, there had been at least two more. It had been someone else who had tightened my hood for him, and now they were on either side of me, firmly grasping my upper arms and helping me back to my feet. Whoever they were, they wore leather gloves, and leather jackets. I could feel them as they frog marched me forward in total darkness and silence. At this point, I cried out, “Who are you?” I could barely hear my own voice, and I strained to hear a response, but none came. I stepped through a threshold and off of the carpet of the hallway and onto a cold smooth surface, possibly marble. The air become much cooler, I could feel goosebumps forming on my naked arms and legs.They released me and I stood there alone for a moment. I reached up and felt the pillow of soft leather surrounding my hooded head. I realized there was a lock securing it at the back of my neck. Up to this point I hadn’t thought to be frightened by any of this. I had only thought to obey him.But now I begun to doubt. I wanted to go back to his discussion, to be able to be guided by his voice, to see his beard, his smile, his face. I called out, “Who is there? What’s going on?”. It sounded to me like a voice from far away. And then his leather clad helpers were suddenly back, and there seemed to be more of them. They grabbed me from all directions and I felt myself being lifted up off of the floor, by at least six unknown men, maybe more. My limbs were quickly and simultaneously pulled in different directions, and then summarily stuffed into what clearly was more soft padded leather. I quickly found myself unable to extend my arms, or separate my legs, and then I was on some surface, and the leather was quickly tightening around my ankles, knees, waist, and arms. And then, in a heartbeat, they were gone, and I was unable to move anything at all. I was floating in darkness. I could hear nothing. I could feel myself panting, breathing heavily through the grommet hole in the hood. It had become my only exposure to the outside world. I couldn’t twist to the side, or bend my knees, or sit up, or turn my head. And then, suddenly, I felt his presence. I don’t know how I felt it, but I did. I knew he was standing there, above me. Despite not being able to see or hear, I KNEW he was near. I pictured him, standing above my leather bound body, still looking stunning in his dark suit and that bright silver and black striped tie. I forced myself to slow down my gasped breathing, to listen as hard as I can. Was he going to speak? Would I be able to hear him from behind all of these layers? I also wanted him to know I was obeying him…that I was complying with these new orders, that I had only had a momentary lapse, I had just become a little frightened by the speed of how quickly this had happened. A brief moment passed, and then I felt him step away. I heard nothing at all, no words, no footsteps, but I knew he was no longer near. I lay there, quietly, waiting through the night, floating in my leather prison, waiting for him to return. -- source link