JOHN DUNNE’S ENTERTAINMENT ENTERPRISE – A TASTER SESSION (1)
“He really should have known better. Alright, everyone writes silly things on web sites but most people don’t mean them. Then he turned up here, would you credit it?”
“Yeah, he’s got the bit about being spread-eagled naked on a bed but he doesn’t seem that happy about it now that it’s happened.”
“That might be because you said you didn’t notice the bit about ‘Just don’t hurt me!’ on his posts.”
With that the two laughing masked guys left.
Jake was left gagged with a perforated silicone ball gag that had hadn’t been fastened particularly tightly round his head. That was until Otto fastened that inch-&-a-half-wide belt over it and pulled it so tightly round his head that the red ball was forced so far back into his mouth that he thought he might gag.
The men had taken careful note of what Jake had written and, during the softening-up process, they made sure that the leather fingerless gloves he was wearing wouldn’t help him slip out of the ropes. So, I suppose he wasn’t really naked.
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Jake took the piece of paper out of his pocket and checked the address. Yes, this was the place. He rang the call bell and, when asked, gave the code-word. A voice said, “Come up to flat four.” There was a buzzing sound and Jake thought, “It’s now or never.” and climbed the stairs.
The door to flat four, the one at the top of the block, had a bell-push with the name “John Dunne” by it. It didn’t take much, even for a fifteen-year old, to get the pun. He pressed the buzzer.
The almost archetypical sliding panel on the door opened behind a grille and a masked face said, “Welcome Slave, state your name and number.”
Jake had read the instructions that had been posted to him and answered, “I have no name, Master. My number will be the one you give me.”
“Well said, slave. Now, on your knees.” Jake knelt waiting for admission to he knew not what really.
The door opened and a well-built man in a singlet was standing there dressed entirely in black. “You will be slave number X50. “What is your name?”
“I don’t have a name, Master, but my number is X50”
“Good answer. Hands on your head. Kiss by boots.” X50 did as he was told. Had he made the right decision? Where he was now, he could always try to make a run for it. X50 kissed his new Master’s boots.
“Don’t get up.” X50 stayed bent with his nose barely an inch from the floor.
“You will obey orders without question. Do you understand?
“Yes, Master.”
“Lose that rucksack and strip to the waist.” As Jake removed his sweatshirt and t-shirt, his dark brown, gelled hair lost any style he’d put into it before he came out. "Now lose the trainers and socks. Don’t get up.” Removing his footwear whist still kneeling was not the easiest task he’d ever attempted but Jake knew that, if he wanted to get inside, he’d have to do as he was told. He wondered why he wasn’t told to remove his precious leather gloves as well.
“Stuff your clothes into your rucksack and pick it up in your mouth.” Now Jake really thought that it might be time to run for it because there didn’t seem to be anything stopping him. That was probably what made him carry on.
He lowered his hands to the floor and grabbed the hanging strap in his teeth. “No-one said you could take your hands off your head, slave. Drop it!” By now the “Host” had Jake’s jaw in his hand forcing him to look him in the eye.
Jake dropped the bag and put his hands on his head again. He waited. The guy looked towards the rucksack and Jake bent down again and retrieved the bag in his teeth but with his hands in the correct posture this time.
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“Enter.” said the Doorman. Jake tried to stand. “Drop the bag. On your knees. Try again. Last chance before the punishment starts.” Jake did as he was told and crawled on his knees into the flat carrying his rucksack like a dog.
He’d never seen the like. There were at least a dozen young men in various states of undress and even some who were fully dressed. Some were bound in positions he’d never even imagined, others seemed to be using them as furniture or as instruments of personal hygiene. Jake knew it was too late to pull out now. His skinny jeans started to feel the strain.
“Drop the bag, X50.” Jake did so. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen, Master.” That was an obvious lie and the Doorman demanded proof. “Permission to take my hands off my head, please Master?” Permission was granted – but only for one hand. Jake fumbled clumsily for his wallet. He knew that he had several fake ID cards that got him into any club in Cambridge. “Please look in here, Master.” Jake handed the wallet over and replaced his hand back on his head. The Doorman looked cursorily at the fake cards and threw the wallet casually over his shoulder without replacing them. He then called Otto and Igor over. They came and they were told to train X50 carefully.
The slightly built boy found his arms wrenched straight into painful locks as he was pulled off his knees, bent over and marched into an adjacent room. On entering, Jake could see nothing of what was in the room as he was being bent almost double by his “trainers”. He was forced back onto his knees and told to put his hands on his head once more. He didn’t dare look round but he could see the wall ahead of him. His intake of breath was audible. He couldn’t see the smiles on the faces of Otto and Igor who were standing slightly behind him.
Jake, or X50 as he was trying to think of himself, could see items that his little kink had only previously allowed him to imagine. Now that he had seen them carefully positioned on the wall, he wasn’t too sure that he really wanted to try some of them after all. But there he was, stripped down to his jeans and his favourite gloves with nervous sweat running freely down his olive-coloured torso. The tickling feeling as it ran down between his arse-cheeks took on a more irritating significance than it really warranted especially as he could do nothing about it.
The only item of furniture in the room appeared to be a rather long bed with hefty wooden bedposts that were reinforced by four steel rods connecting them. The bedclothes seemed to be limited to a thick mattress that was completely enveloped in a black latex cover. Yes, seeing all this took his breath away and made him more than a bit apprehensive but also, along with the muscular “Trainers”, it also put an increased strain on his already rather tight jeans.
“Ho Kay, boiee,” said Otto in a pronounced Fennland accent, “Crawl acraass an’ make y’self comfy.”
By now X50 was already in character but couldn’t be sure what he was allowed to do. He crawled on his knees to the bed and waited.
“Cloymb up and stretch y’sewf owt.”
X50 did as he was told and directed his extremities, other than the one that seemed to be trying to point at the ceiling, towards the bedposts. The feel of that mattress on his back and arms was something that he wasn’t prepared for. This experience was getting more intense by the minute. His normal, sensible brain was still ambivalent about whether he’d made the right decision but a certain part of his body had no doubt at all! For a fifteen year-old in front of strangers the embarrassment was mortifying but he kept telling himself that these men were professionals.
It’s a cruel design fault in the human body that the eyes can’t see what’s above the eyebrows, and X50 couldn’t see what Otto and Igor were getting from the wall. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. The legs of his jeans were pushed up and soft white ropes were wrapped with a lark’s head round each ankle. A few more turns round each ankle and the free ends were passed through the original bight and knotted off. Like true professionals Otto and Igor evened out the tensions before tying the ropes in a loop round the bedposts. There was plenty of rope left unused if the bondage needed tightening later.
Now for the wrists: Igor said that it was a god job that X50 had been allowed to keep his gloves; they might help prevent rope burns. Shame about his ankles. Very much the same procedure took place as before: lark’s head, loops and knotting off until it came to the next bit. When, acting as a pair, Otto and Igor each took a free end in each hand, they pulled them tight on either side of a bed post. Keeping the ropes tight, they wound them several times round the posts before tying off with reef knots.
At the first pull X50 gave voice but managed to control himself almost immediately. Once the tie was completed, Jake was surprised that the spread-eagle didn’t stretch him as tightly as he was expecting it to. He’d never experienced the use of the free ends of rope to wrap round the tethers to pull the victim tight. Jake suddenly became X50 again when Otto pinched both his earlobes between his fingernails to see his reaction. Igor said that he thought the slave had been tied tightly enough.
Following the insertion and further strapping into place of the ball gag, the two trainers left. It was probably dinner time.
TBC