it's true! A person can sleep sitting up!
There I was, snuggled up to that rail. I could move my legs as long as I moved them in the same direction at the same time since the ankles were locked together. I could also move my head about 3 inches in a 180° arc from the top of the railing to which it was affixed. Nor did I have to worry about snoring and waking myself up: the locked on leather hood pretty much sealed my mouth closed.
Actually I did manage to nod off and sleep, much better than I thought I would. At about 630 in the morning I hear his alarm go off which brings me and my bladder into a full waking state. Fastened directly across from the open bathroom door and I must admit the facilities there are beginning to look more and more inviting as I begin to wake up even more.
I'm guessing it was about 15 minutes, although it seemed like five hours, after the alarm first went off before he dragged himself out of bed and padded directly into the bathroom as he, almost sleepwalking, stepped over me to get into the bathroom and close the door behind himself. The dog! All I could do was sit there and listen to him running water in the shower, running water in the sink, flushing the toilet and with every noise that emerged from those confines, my situation and that of the rug underneath me were becoming more and more perilous.
Finally he emerges. He looks down at me and he's got this huge grin on his face as he said, "well I assume you had a good night sleep. You certainly slept tight in any case. I'll bet you'd like me to see if I can go and find the key. Or I can go down and have breakfast and release you when I'm through?"
Okay, he got me. At that last comment I'm shaking my head no as much as the restraints will allow as well as whining in the gag in desperate hopes that he is just "pulling my chain." He continues to laugh as he retires to his bedroom without committing to his future actions one way or the other thus leaving me wondering about my immediate future as well as the sanctity of the rug upon which I was sitting.
Finally he emerges and jangles a key ring with only a couple of keys on it. The right ones! The hands if you remember are simply wrapped twice around each wrist and attached to a belt on that side of the body. They were just buckled: no locks. Maddening most of the night because every time I woke up I would try and think of the new way to at least get the buckle undone. None of them worked of course. With my elbows locked through the iron grating it probably wouldn't have done me much good anyway. Once my hands were free I expected him to remove the shackles from at least one arm or free my head from the railing. All he did was hand me the keys and say you're on your own or something to that effect. I had to pass both arms through the railing with their attached shackle cuff. Then with my muscles being stiffer than usual and my body's attention becoming more and more focused on other priorities, I had to pass the key in one hand over to the lock on the opposite elbow, engage it and free it without dropping the key. If I did I would be stuck there until he finished his breakfast and came back upstairs.
Now the thoughts really begin to go through your mind: what side of the cuff was the keyhole on? Does this cuff have a center keyhole or is it more towards one edge than the other? Very carefully with fingers and a thumb that are still trying to hold on to this key ring I gently massaged each side of the cuff and determined the location of the keyhole. Then of course the fun began as I very carefully probed the key into that part of the cuff which I suspected held the keyhole.
To one that hasn't done this it is kind of like playing golf by braille. At last the key was engaged, turned and for the first time in about six hours at least the cuff was disengaged from that elbow. After that, the iron fell away rather quickly and with the release of the collar lock I was finally out of that leather prison.
Not concerned at the moment about tidying up after myself I stumbled the three steps into the bathroom and began to appreciate those wonders of modern convenience. After a shower and shave, I emerged looking not too much the worse for wear. I picked up the toys and put them away and got dressed to go to work. The loss of body hair that I had suffered in the previous week was not hesitating to remind me of my loss every time the pant fabric moved against my skin. It was beginning to grow out and was snagging on the wool fiber in the suit. Then it was breakfast, a cup of coffee, a chat with my old friend there who said as I was leaving, "don't make any plans for the weekend. I think you're already booked."
Throughout the drive to work his words were ringing in my ears trying to figure out exactly what he meant by that (darn, my butt is itching, even through my shorts. When did I ever agree to a body shave? Oh well, it's too late now to be splitting hairs over that (LOL.).
Work was a good distraction and being able to move around was even better, but if it wasn't for three chocolate bars I'm not sure I wouldn't have fallen sound asleep standing up by 2 o'clock that afternoon.
Finally the work day was over and I was heading home. I stopped at the local grocery store and picked up a few emergency items (like a couple of sixpacks) before finally arriving at home and once again crossing that familiar threshold. I called for him, but he wasn't there. "Oh that is just too bad. I'm really going to suffer his absence I'm sure!"
Being a big fan of Superman at one time, I looked around but couldn't find a telephone booth to jump into, so I went to my room and changed out of the suit and put on a much more comfortable pair of shorts. I then satisfied my almost lusting after two of the bottles of the treasures I had just brought home. With their final consumption and the softness of the couch upon which I rested, I was actually feeling pretty good. You've heard the expression, I'm sure, that nothing good lasts forever. Sure enough, at that point in through the door he comes. He also had with him a bag of groceries which I'm glad to say was more solid and less liquid than the one I brought home. He is a good cook and he likes to play in the kitchen. In that regard we get along quite well because I like to eat. I told them of the treasure that was awaiting him in the fridge and a little while later he comes out with a bottle in each hand as he sits down he hands one to me (my third. I am definitely going to have to use the bathroom before he gets started on this evening's activities.
"You know, I've been thinking, and if we get your moneys worth out of one or two items at a time, with your collection it would probably take a year to get through it all." I thought about that a minute or two, "you're probably right, but what are you getting at?
"Well we can take some of the free and television time in the early evening and get them out of the way so you don't have to sleep in all of these things."
Shit , I'm in trouble. I'm beginning to think I should take up stamp collecting instead of toy collecting. Well anyway, his efforts are very creative and amusing not to mention challenging to try and figure how to get out of. I guess I'll just wait and see what he has in mind. After finishing his beer he excuses himself to the kitchen to start dinner. Me? I decide to stretch out full-length on the living room carpet because I suspect this is going to be a rare opportunity in a little while.
Soon he pops into the living room with something dangling from his right-hand. "Stand up and take your shirt off. With a little time before dinner I just want to see how this looks on you and how super easy it is for you to get out of it. From the back two straps go over each shoulder then under the arms to buckle together in the middle of the back. So far so good. Challenging, but escape at this point seems possible. Then a larger strap hangs from behind the neck down the middle of the back where it buckles into a second strap connected to two wrist cuffs. "Come on now, put your hands behind your back." I complied and each wrist was strapped into its respective leather cuff which was then buckled shut. So far, so good. The dimming possibility to escape seemed to present itself so I figure in about 30 minutes I should have this figured out. He then inserts the strap from the wrist into the strap descending from the nape of my neck.
As he begins to tighten it my wrists are further and further pulled up behind my back. With each buckle hole he passes, I can see this is getting more and more difficult to wiggle out of. Finally he stopped and buckled it off.
"Boy, this is not going to be easy for me to get out of."
"That's the general idea, but I'm not through yet." With that he pulls out two good-sized master padlocks and loops them through the buckles in the center of my back. That's good to make things a little more difficult, but maybe I can slip that strap down over my shoulder. He then pulls out two smaller padlocks which he puts onto the two wrist cuffs.
Okay, that's not too bad for the next 30 minutes or so and by then dinner should be ready. In the meantime I've figured out how to use the remote for the TV and I relaxed on the couch watching some stupid TV show. Finally he comes in and says dinners ready, come into the kitchen. So I get up and follow along and there on the table is everything perfectly served up and even another opened bottle of beer next to my plate. I walk over to my chair and turned around with my back to him and moving my hands out and in towards my body saying that it was time to take this off.
"Not just yet. For the moment, I will spoonfeed you your dinner so sit down and "dig in"". I began to protest this was too soon in the evening and I would rather feed myself so please free me.
As usual, my protests fell on deaf ears. He just sat there and finally crossed his arms over his chest waiting for me to run out of steam I supposed. He then grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and began making vertical marks on the page. Finally I asked what were those for? He replied each mark represents a separate bitch I made about my current condition. Each mark would extend the time I would be in this and I saw the paper was filling up.
Realizing I was just digging my own grave further and further, I sat down and changed the subject to asking for a swallow of that beer. He got a big smile on his face, which in my present circumstances was not encouraging at all. He then drops a soda straw into the bottle and moves it in front of me. Drink all you want he said. Have you ever tried to drink warm beer out of the soda straw? As the bubbles tried to pop up inside your mouth, you try to swallow it before you wind up spraying it. Another new lesson learned. At this stage of the game I am now an expert at beer guzzling with a soda straw! Amid his laughing and giggling at my circumstance, he did an admirable job in not only preparing the meal but also serving it in a most unexpected way.
Dinner over, he said not to worry but he would clean up the kitchen that night since it looked like I was otherwise occupied (I really didn't like the potential term implied in his statement and I soon found I wasn't going to be disappointed.).
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" Ah here was my means of escape. "Yes please, thank you." When he inquired what exactly I had to do in there and discovering I just had to take a really pressing leak, he told me to stand up and turn around. Okay I thought, these things are coming off now.
Once my back was turned he simply grabbed my shorts and pulled them down to my ankles saying okay step out of them. Now of course, I wasn't entirely in my birthday suit, but I also didn't count the leather very far towards clothing. "All right, get going and don't forget to flush." With that he sent me on my way with a smart slap to my now bare rear end.
Once there, I decided to do my business sitting down; Otherwise I couldn't even guarantee to myself in what direction that stream was going to take off.. That's the unfortunate part of a good beer: you never buy it, you merely rent it.
Finally, finishing up (and flushing the toilet too) I rejoined him in the kitchen where he looked at me and said that very threadbare joke: "Did everything come out all right?". It was bad enough to be sitting naked in the kitchen wearing this leather, but to have to listen to his bad jokes as well was almost cruel and unusual punishment. Finally, he goes to the fridge and returns with two open bottles of beer, one of which seems to be proudly displaying its own soda straw! After getting his jollies out of my embarrassment, the now decided it's time to help me back into my shorts. It was an idea that I definitely couldn't resist.
Now, lightly clothed at least, we sat and chatted about various things until the beers were gone at which point he offered to get me another. "No thanks. I was thinking that if I stopped now, my bathroom break before tying me up for the night would take care of most of the pressure the consumed beer would be causing.
"Boy, look at the time. It's already 830. Probably time for bed as I've still got a lot of work to do in my room."
"Isn't it a little early? We are usually up till 1130 or later."
"True, but I think you'll need the extra time to work out how you are going to get out of this if I don't help you."
With that, he rotated off his chair and sat on my thighs pinning me firmly to my chair. Before I could protest or comment, with one hand he pushes back on my forehead while he stuffs a small sock in my mouth with the other. When he reaches behind my head and pulls my head down toward my chest so I can't get enough play to open my mouth enough to spit the sock out. Very shortly I didn't have to worry about that. Sure enough, the next moment I'm in the embrace of an old friend: the leather helmet. When cinched up in the back, it's almost impossible for me to open my mouth other than parting my lips. Consequently, after that our conversation got distinctly one-sided.
He led me upstairs and sat me down with my back to the railing, just like the night before. Sure enough, he went and got the ankle shackles that he now clamped on each arm is above the elbow after winding chain through the other side of the iron bars. Then he snugged the top of the helmet securely back to the top of the railing and tied it off. I started moaning my displeasure at this ambush as that was about the extent of my options. But he was not finished yet.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to shackle your ankles together." Instead, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small metal item which turned out to be thumb cuffs which now serve their duty as big toe cuffs. He then turned out the lights upstairs, stepped over me and started down the stairs on the opposite side of the railing. Not letting the good opportunity pass, as he drifted near my position his fingers began counting and checking out the integrity or condition of each one of my ribs. That was totally unfair, but even without the helmet and the gag, I was trying to laugh so hard I don't think I could've said anything intelligent at the time anyway.
A few hours later the hall light goes on and I hear him coming up the stairs. At that point I was noticing the beers I had drunk earlier were preparing to make their encore performance. I really had to go. As he walked over me I grunted as best I could and started bouncing my rear end up and down and rolling it from side to side to the extent I was able.
"So you got to go, right?" I grunted in affirmation and attempted to nod my head but it felt like there was less than 2 inches of purchase space tonight so it didn't nod very far. "Well I'm not taking that stuff off of you until morning. I guess you'll just have to hold it."
"No, no, no," I screamed into the gag which of course came out quite a bit different than what I had intended. He got the message though and then told me he was just pulling my chain and that he would take care of the problem. How in the hell is he going to do that without releasing me?
The answer was soon to be all too clearly revealed: what is he doing with that roll of duct tape? And what is that other thing? He then pulled my shorts down to my knees and inserted my tool package into the cavernous confines of a male urinal. He then took several strips of duct tape and made sure the two were going to be together like a newlywed couple.
"Good night." He says as he ambles back into his room leaving me with my thoughts of what remained in my toy inventory and why I didn't take up stamp collecting at an early age instead.