Has anyone seen my Altoids?
We were sitting in his apartment living room, a semi-spacious little place with half a kitchen built near the end of the room. After dropping an E and a bit of Viagra, we stretched the living room futon out to bed mode. As he answered his phone for the fifth time that night, I reached over and inspected the handcuffs up close and personal, like a college student studies a textbook, I taught myself the ins and outs of the device before he came back with a muzzle, a black dildo, and a smile on his face.
We had met a drunken night, ages ago. Him telling me he’s 22, a college graduate, with a fairly impressive job. I blabbed about my job, my books, and a plethora of other nonsense.
Last week, I caught him online and attempted to remind him of who I was, he said he didn’t remember, but that he’d love to have dinner with me anyway.
This was “dinner”, or something like it.
“I like getting tied up,” he slobbered out, and I, always being open to new and painful experiences, was interested in getting myself involved in that mess.
Of course, I had to be tied up first, just so I could get a feel for bondage, as the unspoken rule goes.
“It’s a very intellectual exercise, I think,” he said as he tied up strings of white rope to the legs of the futon. I languished on top like a sleeping cat as he tied my wrist with a leather strap.
I was naked by now, and the muzzle was placed over my head, a strap of leather covering my mouth, but my nose and eyes escaped suffocation through the holes of the bands in front. He was panting.
My legs and other arm were tied down in place as he started to tremble and sweat in ecstatic fits. Once I was down and secure, he jumped on top of me with a look of extreme satisfaction in his eyes.
It was cute.
He started giving me lessons, showing me how helpless I felt by tickling me [I wanted to smack him, but I took it because I could barely move], then licking me. He disappeared for a while and brought in nipple clamps, which he used on me.
They caused almost instant pain, but after a while I got used to them. He was in a funky delirium, “damn you look hot like this,” [my face was covered in a muzzle, but I assumed this was more of a compliment than a veiled insult.] He would periodically pull on the clamps, causing a wave of extreme discomfort to surge in my chest. At one point I yelled “fuck!” while throwing my head back, but the muzzle made it sound more like “FMWUMP!”
He then untied me and we kissed, the E pill was making us feel tizzy, but we both suspected it was a dud pill with more caffeine than anything else.
I tied him down next—this was revenge—and seeing as how he was pro at this, I went for it. The muzzle was placed on his face and he was tied down the same way [I spanked him hard a few times before rendering him fully submissive]. Once tied down, the boy’s arousal would not let up. I bit his nipples and he shifted erratically [later he told me no one had done this to him before, so he was still debating whether it felt good or not].
I did everything a novice could do to him. I sat on his face while jerking him off, I spit in his eye, spit on him everywhere, I tied his head back and told him in detail how I’d pee down his throat, [“how nice of you,” he mumbled casually]. I used the dildo on him and sucked his toes, I bit his neck, armpits, and legs.
After a while of this I noticed I was feeling thirsty. I smacked my dry lips together and told him I needed a drink, he said he needed one too.
I graciously untied him and he stumbled up and poured me a glass. My wall of energy had crumbled completely as I lay on the futon exhausted, he lay next to me as well and said he was dead tired.
“Damn, that E didn’t work,” he said,
“Yeah I think maybe it was a roofie,” I said.
He laughed, I laughed, and we wrapped our limbs around each other and kissed for half an hour.
Later we cleaned up [but not before he tied me up again lightly, this time with no muzzle], and headed to a soul food place down the road, the kind where a cockroach is always scaling up a wall and they blare out country soul and blues music over multiple speakers like they do live in Louisiana.
“Not bad for a first date,” he said, and I laughed because here was a nut who considered getting tied up then eating at a roach infested diner a first date, and most boys would consider formal dinner and dancing to be “just hanging out.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I said while downing my can of ginger ale. We talked more and throughout the night there was that magical phrase spoken over and over again.
“Next time.”
Next time we’ll do this, next time we’ll have a real dinner, next time you can use this. His eyes sparkled because he’d met as big a freak as he.
Next time.
The following morning, I departed for work, in a nice dress shirt and tie, with perfectly creased pants.
Mark D. Sade, 24, is currently serving a life sentence at East Bale Correctional Facility in New Jersey. He wrote this article out on a roll of toilet paper.
