I'd been talking to a guy for a few weeks, and he had expressed an interest in exploring his sadistic side. He hadn't tied many guys and was very inexperienced so I was hesitant to meet him because my "mentor" side had been temporarily burnt out.
Eventually we pegged a date to play, and since he was inexperienced with bondage I figured I could restrain myself before he arrived to remove the possibility of inadequate bondage.
I had on locking wrist and ankle restraints which were then padlocked to the chair's bars. My feet were padlocked to the bars at the back of the chair to keep them off the ground so I couldn't scoot the chair around. On top of that, my wrists were pulled down and tied to my balls which forced me to arch my back and keep my balls closer to the edge of the seat. I kept the key in my hand in case of an emergency, but the second I heard the front door I dropped the key, removing any illusion of escape.
No going back now, completely and totally vulnerable. I'd done this before and usually there's a "greeting" period where a guy would give some friendly gropes as a hello and move on to some edging or something else that was pleasant. Instead I hear the riding crop I'd laid out being picked up. FUCK.
Immediately he's wailing on my thighs, sometimes switching to his hand to make a larger area of impact, also alternating between slapping my balls and using the riding crop on my nipples, and even wailing on the tender soles of my feet since they were pulled so taut and immobile. I'm starting to freak out a little bit because I was expecting a more subtle introduction, and eventually things get a bit too intense for me to handle.
Panicking, I grab the bars on the rear of the chair trying to break them and free up the padlocks. I feel one bar bend no more than a few millimeters and give up trying to outright break the metal weldings. Instead I start shaking my head aggressively trying to get the hood off as I couldn't fully tighten it. I figured if I could glare at him and he could see the look in my eyes that he'd realize things had progressed too quickly.
Wrong. As the bottom of the hood reached about halfway up he back of my head and I begin to feel hopeful my duress is over, the abuse suddenly stops. THANK GOD! I'm feeling like a million bucks thinking he's about to take off the hood to check and see if I'm okay, and my posture relaxes significantly. Instead I feel his hand reach for the hood's laces which he tightens, zips the hood, and then goes on to tighten the extra straps. As soon as I realized what was happening I let out the most pathetic whimper I've ever uttered.
Once the hood is secured he returns to the abuse regimen, and I fall back in to suffering immensely. I'm fighting and protesting, but becoming quieter as I realize that it would take an act of God to deter this man.
After suffering a great deal more he finally tosses me a few courtesy strokes to a cock which has almost retreated into my abdomen. Immensely thankful for this mildly kind gesture, lets me go. No apologies, no hesitant "did I go to far;" just a decisive "I've taken what I want, so you can go" attitude. Although I was in hell during the scene, I tried several times to play with the guy before he moved a month or two later. What a damned shame.
