On call garage cocksucker
15 August 2018 | 11:00 pm

Copyright © 2018 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Tags: bdsm, real experience, chastity, cbt, oral

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So I was chatting with GearedUpDude on Twitter that afternoon.  He’d been responding to my chastity tweets, and we hadn’t been in touch in a while, so I said “hi”.  I'd just hit 30 days locked in a device.  It was my longest time locked in a chastity device ever.  We chatted for a while before I dropped him an opening.
Reddywhp: I’m turning into a cock hungry faggot. It’s … quite the head trip. Almost following orders from any drive by on Scruff.

Reddywhp: I’m surprised how suggestible I’m finding myself. And I signed up for the rest of the calendar year. *facepalm*

GearedUpDude: feel free to swing by and let me use a boot on your crotch. just open the backyard gate, enter the garage, strip down to a jock, send the text, bow your head and wait

It was at this point I sent him a picture of me in a bathroom stall, dressed in only my jockstrap, kneeling on the floor, that I had taken for someone else earlier in the day.  We went back and forth a little more. And I was horny.
Reddywhp: I don’t need to come for a long visit… but I like the idea of coming over, feeling your boots on me for a few minutes, maybe you holding my mouth to your crotch.
Damn, I really am feeling desperate.
GearedUpDude: yea that's so hot, let's do tonight.   Message when you leave the office with your ETA, and when you’ve stripped in the garage.

GearedUpDude: So where would the boy like me to cum?

Reddywhp: I … uhh, don’t know, Sir.

GearedUpDude: Really? Not a single suggestion? I’m surprised

Reddywhp: Suggestions?
In my mouth and made to hold it there without swallowing or spitting.
On my face and being sent home without being given the opportunity to wipe it off.
On my chest.
On my locked cock.
GearedUpDude: that’s better, maybe you’re not yet to the point of being cum obsessed.   If this is you at 30 days, I wonder what 60 days will be like
We exchanged a few more horny ideas, but then I had to focus on work, and I worked a little late.  Around 6:30PM, I finally left, texting him that I was leaving, and would be there in about 35 minutes.

The drive was easy, and I pulled up alongside his house when I said I would.  I fairly certain that I’d gotten the house right.  I’d been there once before, but it had been over a year.  So I was getting nervous.  I opened the fence to the backyard and let myself in.  Crossing over to the garage, I could feel my heart pounding.

I went into the garage, and on the floor was some cardboard, about where he had suggested I might find some.  I closed the door, and immediately stripped down to my jockstrap.  I put on the steel toe boots and knee pads I’d brought from work for working in confined spaces, and then texted him.  “I’m here.”

I knelt on the cardboard, bowed my head down, and waited.  It was more than a few nervous minutes there, waiting.  Was I in the wrong garage?  If I got it wrong and the owner came in, how fucked was I?

I heard a door open outside.  Then footsteps across the yard.  Moment of truth.  I kept my head down, eyes on the floor.  The door to the garage opened, and I saw a pair of desert jump boots.  I was maybe 6 feet from the open door and the light from outside fell right on me, there was no mistaking me being there.

He closed the door behind him and came over to me.  I was kneeling and looking down.  So it might not have been him.  But I figure, anyone else finding a mostly naked man kneeling in their garage would’ve said something by now.  So I held my tongue.

He closed the door and walked up to me.  Holding my head against his stomach, he started rubbing my shaved, and very sweaty, head.  This went on for a few minutes until he pulled down his shorts, and held his cock in front of my face.  I stared at it, transfixed.

I don’t know that I’d ever wanted cock like this before.

He continued rubbing my head as I looked at his cock.  This was a new level of frustration, until I asked, in a small voice, “Sir, may I please suck your cock?”

“Go ahead boy.”

And then I became a cock-hound.  I licked and sucked.  Hands held behind my back, I took his cock to the hilt, until he stopped me so he could reposition himself against the car in the garage.  I turned to follow him, and watched him turn on a video camera to record my submission.  At the same time, it seemed he pulled out his phone and started recording from another angle.  He then had me get back to work.

For maybe ten minutes, I got to sate my need for cock.  He continued recording and occasionally played with my nipples as I worked.  I got him so worked up that he started to come before he wanted, pushing my head off his cock.

A little bit of cum dribbled out as he clamped down on his orgasm.  Cum that he proceeded to rub into my chest.

That was when he switched gears and started kicking my balls in the jockstrap.  Not too hard, but he definitely gave them some good thumps before squatting down to get more hands on.  He beat my nuts for a few minutes.  Occasionally getting me close, occasionally making my nuts hurt so I whimpered and pulled away, all along, keeping my hands clasped behind my back.

When it came time, he told me to get my mouth back on his cock.  He’d had enough fun making me whimper, whine, and cringe by playing with my balls.  I had been close to coming for a little while, but it would have taken another 5 minutes as a fairly fixed level of ball beating to get me there, and I wanted to focus on him getting off.

When he came, he pushed my head back, and he finished himself off, shooting several times, coating my chest, and a little of my beard in his come.  Having finished, he ordered me to get dressed and leave.  I left shirtless, as I was overheating, and sweating.  His come was not dried when got into my car and the air-conditioning cooled me down.  I could smell his come on me all the way home.

While I did not come myself, and I definitely still wanted to come, I felt like I’d had a need fulfilled.

He was right.  I am worried how I’ll be when it comes 60 days locked.  Maybe not worried…  maybe … eager.

Skip's First Inferno, the closing
14 August 2018 | 11:00 pm

Copyright © 2018 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Tags: bdsm, real experience, chicago hellfire club, Inferno

Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.org
Towards the end of my first Inferno, the afternoon of Tuesday, September 12, 2000, I was 25 and having a blast.  I was only supposed to be there for Session A, but in a Sunday morning moment of clarity, I got my work vacation extended and Inferno Registration found space for me to stay for Session B.

That Tuesday afternoon, I was watching Jon beating on my friend Ryan.  Jon had been introduced to me by Mike B as "one of my favorite monsters at Inferno", he was this enigma to me - so intense.  He was punching Ryan's pecs with precision and focused attention; Ryan was taking it and smiling.

When Jon decided to give Ryan a break, he saw me watching nearby and motioned as if preparing to punch me.  I puffed my chest out in response, and he gave me a quick jab - which of course momentarily winded me because I'd never really taken a punch before - play or otherwise.

It didn't take but a moment of shock before I reset my stance to one that could take the punch, tightened up my pecs, smiled, and nodded for him to continue.

Jon focused on one muscle group at a time.  He pounded on my right chest until I dropped to my knee in response.  The pounding was draining.  I was holding my breath far too much.  And it did hurt, so it was me pulling away and showing submission.

I don't remember us talking all that much.  Maybe a few quips and snarky comments in both directions during the jabs.

After a moment to catch my breath, I stood up again and re-set my stance, leading him to pound on my left pec instead.  The scene repeated itself...  eventually, I dropped to one knee again to catch my breath.

Ryan helped me stand back up, and I re-set my stance again: right leg slightly forward, left leg slightly back for bracing, so I could lean in.  I thought Jon was going to beat my chest again.  Nope.

Jon threw a knuckle punch at my right thigh, just slightly outside.  It did not take many hits like that before my leg gave out completely.  This time I *dropped* to the ground at the top of dish hill.

I was grinning stupidly as I tried - and failed to stand up - so Ryan and David T helped me stand again... and then continued to hold me up as Jon proceeded to turn my left leg just as useless as my right one.

I grunted in pain - that thuddy wonderful pain of fist hitting muscle and flesh.

- - -

When a couple of minutes later, I was able to stand on my own, Jon looked me over - checking my eyes, trying to calm me down from the intensity we had just shared.  My muscles were tightened up like a drum, and he started hitting pressure points - first in places that caused muscles to relax, then places that I later learned were to cause pain (but that don't work on me).

Then he found a pressure point on me that *does* work, and it was the first time we heard what Matt D liked to refer to as "Skippy noises" (a cross between Woody Woodpecker and Roscoe P. Coltrane trying to speak Latin with a Klingon accent).

People thought this was me being ticklish, so Jon, Dave, and Ryan took me over to the bondage tent and strapped me down to one of the leather-padded articulating metal tables.  They thought it was laughter...  but the pressure points had triggered sensory overload.

So I'm strapped down to this table, and they try tickling me - and nothing.  I'm just laying there waiting for them to do something.  Then, the breakthrough.  Someone dug their thumb into the right spot and I howled.  When he tried again as I was trying to say something, I broke, and started speaking gibberish.

The howling and sputtering that came out of my mouth was what some might call epic...  I just call it Inferno.

- - -

The next morning before I left, and as I was feeling like crap, Jon talked to me about after-effects.  We talked about bruising patterns that I might see.  We talked about the emotional turmoil from endorphin crash I was experiencing - my first real endorphin high from BD/SM play.

That was the closing of my first Inferno, and I was hooked.

Story: Uninformed Consent
2 September 2015 | 10:30 pm

Bondage, ambiguous consent, hypnosis

Copyright © 2014 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.org

Uninformed Consent

Chapter 1,  Relaxing

I answered the door the second time he rang the bell.  He was patient, waiting a full five minutes before he rang the second time.  The boy was standing there waiting quietly with his hands held behind his back.

The boy was a full head shorter than me, with beautiful brown eyes, and looking up at me like a lost puppy.

“I hope I’m not too early, Sir.”  I could actually hear him capitalize the letter S in that statement.

“None of that yet, we’ve not even played.  I haven’t earned that from you yet.  Now what did I say we were going to do when we spoke on the phone?”

I beckoned for him to follow me in to the house and to close the door behind him.  “You said that I was to dress in gym clothes and to be here at 5PM.  That you were going to tie me up tightly and we would talk, to decide what we would do in future sessions.”

“That’s right, Billy.  You can call me Harlow, or Mr. Reynolds if you prefer.  I don’t go in for titles.”  I gestured to the single well-padded reclining chair in the living room.  “Now have a seat.”

“That’s okay, I can take another chair… or the floor.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion Billy.”

Billy settled back into the worn black leather upholstery.  It was obvious from where he settled that he wasn’t the normal occupant of the chair.  My sizable six foot frame had left a deep impression.  I pulled up the ottoman and sat on it, facing him.  His brown eyes were large under his short light brown hair.  In the low light of the room, the only light was behind him, so he could see my eyes clearly but not harshly.

Being sure to make and keep eye contact with him, I told him to give me his hands.  I firmly grasped his wrists and pressed them slowly, confidently into the arm rests of the chair.  As his arms pressed down, a curved and padded stiff leather strap protruded from small slits in the leather on outside of his wrists.

As I made the motions, I began speaking softly to him, “You’re safe here.  You told someone where you are.  You checked with other people that I’m a safe person.”

With a deft movement of my fingers and without letting go of his hands, I tucked the leather into slits on other side of the wrists until I heard a click.  The restraints were a toy of mine.  There was a timer built into the arms of the chair.  In five hours without my intervention, or in some specific emergency situations, the restraint would release automatically.  There was also a manual release to the restraint in the back of the chair.  I didn’t tell Billy that.

“Billy, I want you to relax.  I’m going to talk for a while, Billy.  Just relax and obey what I tell you.”  I put just the slightest emphasis on the words relax and obey.

As I spoke, I reached around to the sides of the back of the chair and pulled out a leather belt which I ran over his chest lightly, and buckled in to place.

“Now you came over here to experience bondage, and you will experience it, but first I need to tell you some things.”  I watched his breathing, matching mine to his.  That’s a hard part, a little bit of finesse, trying to speak and breathe at a rate not natural to you.

I moved the ottoman closer to the recliner, which was upright at the moment.

“You like bondage because it relaxes you.  You told me that it lets you drift off.  So I want you to drift off and listen to my voice for a while.”

In time with our exhalations, I slowly ran my hands lightly down his upper arms and down to his forearms with their faint layer of sun-bleached brown hair.

“You like to be the focus of attention.  You can relax when you’re bound because someone else is in charge.  When you’re bound, it’s easy to obey.  It’s easy to let go and let someone else decide when you’re restrained.  When you let someone tie you up, you get to relax.  ”

I continued stroking his arms, his thighs, and his face.  Everything was easily reachable through the micro-fiber gym shorts and sleeveless t-shirt.  I punctuated every issuance of “obey” and “relax” with a slight downward pressure wherever I was stroking at the time.

I spent several minutes repeating the statements, and keeping up the body contact and slowed the stroking and my breathing; his breathing slowed in response.

“Now Billy, I know you want to relax more and experience a stronger bondage, isn’t that right?  You don’t need to speak, just nod.”  His now droopy head nodded, his glassy eyes heavily lidded.

“If you want more, you need to obey me, can you do that?  Just nod.”  Another nod.

“Good boy.”  I smiled broadly and squeezed his thighs firmly.  “Now relax and lay your head back and close your eyes.  You’ve already seen the other restraints on the chair.  We’re going to continue restraining your body so that you can relax more.”

“You know what the leather straps feel like on your arms and chest.  I’m going to restrain your legs next.  I want you to imagine what that is going to feel like.  You’ll feel the smooth and padded leather laying against your shins, just above your socks.  It will start off loose, and then it will pull snug.  You know what that feels like.  You can feel the pressure of the straps just as you’re thinking of it.”

I watched Billy’s breathing quicken slightly as he lazily smiled at the thought of the restraint.  Then I saw his knees bend ever-so slightly, pulling his legs against the padded front of the chair.

“Think how good it will feel when your legs are bound up.  When your legs are restrained, you can obey me more easily.  Do you like to obey, Billy?  Just nod.”  He nodded.  “That’s right, Billy, and by being bound by me, you obey me.  Remember, Billy, when you’re bound, you obey, and when you obey, you’re bound.  It’s easy, Billy.  When you’re bound, you obey.  And when you obey, you’re happy and relaxed.”

“You like having your legs bound, like your arms.  You want them to be bound and immobile, don’t you Billy?”  He nodded, “In your mind, you can just see the straps pulling back on your legs, keeping them tight and taught.  You can feel the pressure around your ankles.  It just feels so good to feel them pulled tightly together and against the chair, right Billy?”  He nods.

“Do you like the feeling of them bound this way, Billy?”  More nods.

Okay, time to see if I’ve gotten through to the boy. 

“You know the restraints around your legs are holding you, because you want to obey.  The more you obey me, the stronger the restraints are.  You want to obey, so the restraints will hold you in place, Billy.” 

Now, in a faster, near staccato rhythm I rattled off, “Test the restraints, Billy.  When you test the restraints, you obey me, which will make the restraints stronger.  The more you try, the more you obey, the stronger they’ll be and you’ll be held in place.”  As I spoke, I saw the muscles of his quads pulsing; clearly he was trying to fight the non-existent restraints on his legs.

I let him have just a second or two of testing.  “Relax Billy, you can stop trying.  You were a good boy.”

I could see his body visibly relax as he stopped fighting the invisible restraints.  This was better than I’d hoped; the boy was going to be an excellent subject. 

Perhaps I should’ve included hypnosis in my list of interests on my profile.  I mean, I did list “subtle bondage”... It wasn’t a lie.

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