Alison and Faye were two girls in my class at school and unbeknown to them at the time, and me, I discovered the thrill of Bondage.  I can’t remember my exact age, although erections and girls nipples were certainly focussing very much on my mind!  Picture a July afternoon if you will, the UK heat wave of 1976 not that too distant in a small square of suburban grass in a sea of roof tops on a large housing estate. The sounds of kids playing, dogs barking and almost all adult voices silenced due to it being the summer holidays and most were away at work. Latch keys kids!

A frantic pounding on my front door earlier on that morning announced my best friend informing us that Alison and Faye had invited us round to sit in their blow up paddling pool when their parents were out.. That only meant one thing. Bikinis!

Many hours later we found ourselves eating cheap ice lollys from Faye’s freezer and sprawled out on a huge tartan rug in the garden. To this day I cannot recall where the idea came from to tie the girls up, but safe to say it did, and was received with giggling enthusiasm.  Wrapping brightly coloured washing line around the back to back girls pressed a few buttons. The way the nylon cord pressed into their pasty white English skin made me want to press the fleshy bits with my finger.  Both girls had well-developed breasts for their age and were framed in what I now accept to be the best way to safely bind a woman.  It only caused to extenuate them more in their small costumes and became subject of semi-innocent conversation. I say semi because one of the girls fiend fear that their bikini top could be easily pulled down, there was nothing they could do.  And so, on warm summers day with tributes being played to Elvis on the radio, I stood watching as these two captives squealed as their breasts were exposed to the sunshine. Oh the glory of the moment, that realisation that only you and your mate were experiencing something very personal.

And that was it, literally, in flash.

We were told to untie them, breasts were covered and with a promise of secrecy involving heart crossing and swearing on the lives of loved ones, we were ejected from the house towel in one hand and clothes in the other.  I should thank the two girls in question as they sowed a seed that took a long time to germinate and only flowered many years later with the same wonderment.

Bondage for me is control. Removing missy’s control to move and react when sensations become too much. Control to allow me to do as I wish within the boundaries of our relationship.  I like to see her arms and legs in the positions I choose and to have her completely exposed. So exposed that anything is possible.  Removing one’s control can be a scary place.  Freedom, health, finances and mobility are all stress triggers in humans and being able to tap into those insecurities in a safe environment, whilst at the same time not being too emotionally safe, is a thrill.

There are so many aspects of bondage I have yet to play with or learn new skills.  Restraint can be so ironically enabling.  I have restrained people physically through work and sport, and whilst there is a fight or flight argument going on, there is a real satisfying buzz to it.  It can be quite primal and that does tap into my homo erectus, if you get my drift!