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Wrapping, strapping, chaining and tying
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DESPATCH RIDER
EPISODE

Letter describes a genuine experience of kinky carryings on when he was in the army way-back-when.

His reply to my enquiry was, in part ...

Greetings ...
     ... did I perhaps speak to you at one time about being strapped to the back of a motor cycle on an army exercise, just as a piece of devilment on the part of unit rough-necks ... but  I don't think that was what you were thinking about.

     Was it about using three Despatch Riders' coats on me in an unusual way, that you remember?   Yes, it did actually happen - and I've had opportunity to try variations on the principle several times since. Looking back on the original event– many times over many years, it still remains very clear in my mind. I'm still not sure what provoked it - something to do with those unconscious signals one gives out - which enabled the slightly odd-ball guys in the transport section to involve me in what were obviously regular extra-curricular activities, I just don't know.  But I did enjoy it and it was a break-through in learning to trust my own instinctual 'kinks' - and others who might be on a similar wave-length. I think it's very important to learn to read the unspoken 'vibes' people give out.

Anyway, I have sat down and, as a break from all my other more demanding activities, have re-told the incident very much as it happened. I don't think my memory has embellished it too much. Attached are the basic facts ...

ARMY DESPATCH RIDERS

Compulsory National Service for two years in the army way-back-when ... as an admin. clerk (administrative). A break in the routine of paperwork was when I assisted in the running of an annual three day rifle meeting for the Regiment, looking after all the bureaucracy and keep all the scores.

A period of intense activity: out on the ranges all day in marquees, my task was to write down scores as they came in; then back at barracks for half the night, updating statistics and preparing for the next day's shooting.

However, one year late in the evening of the second day I discovered that I had inadvertently left some cards out on the range. The information on them was essential to the organisation of the next day's events. So I phoned the Transport Section and asked if a driver could take me in the ‘pick up' to the ranges to collect the cards. “Not possible”, I was told. “It is already out on a job”. When I explained the urgency of it all the transport sergeant said he could make a despatch rider available for the job if I didn't mind jumping on the back of his bike. I didn't mind, so made my way to the Transport Section building, isolated at the other end of the barracks.

Long before the days of civil legislation on crash helmets it was an Army Regulation that you wore one, so I was duly equipped. The sergeant then said that it looked very much like rain. It had been a beautiful June evening, but he advised that the rider assigned to me would prefer it if I wore the standard issue 'mac'. Something in his manner made me accept his decision. I was duly provided with a despatch rider's long coat. I had never encountered such a garment before; but it was beautifully designed for its purpose.

Made of heavy cotton twill and khaki coloured, it was of double thickness twill, sandwiching a rubber layer. It was quite bulky and very long: it was double-breasted. The ‘wrap-over' was quite enveloping and was secured to an all round belt by its own buckle, independent of the belt's own buckle. There was a very deep storm collar secured with a strap and buckle. What intrigued me, however, was a row of press studs around the hem of the skirt. They were designed to engage with their counterparts which were spaced vertically up the lower edges of both wrap-over fronts. When brought together they formed something like built-in leggings; and when on a bike they prevented the coat fronts from blowing open and letting your thighs and legs getting drenched in wet weather. I had some difficulty in clambering into this intriguing coat. We went to the ranges and retrieved the cards. On the way back it did rain a little – just enough to bring out a rubbery, canvassy smell from the coat.

On arriving back at the Motor Transport Section building, and whilst unpoppering and unstrapping this garment I said to the despatch rider (a Driver G_______) “This coat is so full of straps and things I almost don't know how to get out of it without help: it's like a damned straitjacket.”

“Ah,” said he, “Some of the guys like to imagine that along with the crash helmet it makes them look like spacemen: and others have tried out the coats during tying up games. You should see what they get up to! Come along to the Transport Section one evening about twenty one hundred hours when the sergeant is not around.” I said that I might. I was fascinated by the idea. The damp rubbery smell of the coat combined with its heaviness and bulkiness were a definite turn on.

So I didn't leave it many days before I wandered over to the Transport building. Driver _________ just happened to be there along with two others, and I was immediately offered a mug of the stewed tea that was always available. No awkward silence, no questions about why I had come, just an acceptance that I was welcome. In fact I soon concluded that I was half-expected. Driver G_______ had obviously mentioned my trip to the ranges, and my remarks, to his friends. Transport Section was always a bit untidy. There were two or three rooms, beds for the duty drivers to sleep on (but not in) when on night duty, tea making equipment, despatch riders' boots, army belts, webbing straps, crash helmets, log books and, yes, several despatch rider's coats in various sizes.

Immediately after I had finished my mug of tea Driver __________ said “Well, you'll be wanting to try a coat or two, I expect.” ‘A coat or two?' I thought. ‘That's odd'. But I said “Yes, please” rather over-eagerly. “Well, take off your battle dress blouse and shirt” he said. So I did. He then came over to me carrying one of the heavy despatch rider's coats which I went to slip on: but the right sleeve was turned inside out. I was told to put it on but to put my right arm up my back, inside the coat. Two of the guys present quickly fastened the front, buckled up the wrap-over and strapped up the collar. I could move my right arm a little, but then Driver G_ _______ fastened the all-round belt, and when I tried to get my right arm down my back and below waist level it wouldn't go. “Oh-er” I thought, “my right arm is completely stuck”. It was. Then they did up the skirts so as to form the built-in leggings. “That is to stop you pulling the whole thing up and over your head”, I was told. Having fixed the legging arrangement they then pulled a strong webbing belt around my waist and drew it very tight. That made certain that my right arm was well trapped and could not move down below waist level.

“Odd” I thought “I still have my left arm and hand free”, as the left sleeve of the coat had not been turned inside out, like the right one. It was then that the meaning of ‘a coat or two' became plain. Two of the drivers approached me holding a second, somewhat larger despatch rider's coat: it had both sleeves turned inside out. They draped it over my shoulders, told me to put my left arm up my back and they fastened the coat in the same secure manner as they had the first one, which was underneath. The ‘leggings' were then poppered into place and another stout webbing belt placed around my waist. I was truly now in a fix: neither arm could be moved down my back. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it wasn't torment.

Then, suddenly, I realised I was totally and completely helpless: there was nothing I could do to get out. The rubbery, canvassy smell of the coats became more apparent as I got hotter in them. And I realised I was completely under the control of these guys. I had put myself there, certainly; I didn't particularly know them, but I sort of felt a trust in them. I began to like it. It was liberating in a way, to be able to think that I could get into this position, enjoy it and not be too worried. Yes it was stimulating but scary in a way, all at the same time.

Then, believe it or not, yet another coat was produced. It was much larger and bulkier than the other two: both sleeves were turned inside out, and two of the drivers were approaching me holding it. They presented it to me face on, and draped it over my shoulders so that it was back to front! It was done up, strapped and fastened; moreover a strong leather belt was drawn tightly round my waist. “That makes things even more secure” I heard from one of them. I was now, indeed, completely trussed up. I was unable to move my arms and I was getting warmer and warmer. As I moved around warm air bellowed up from under the collars, carrying the rubbery, canvassy smell. It also had overtones of smelling of the previous wearers of these coats, and the turn on that I began to get, was getting greater by the minute. I began to wonder to myself whether they had worn these coats in the line of duty or had left a little of themselves behind as a result of playing these games. The imagination ran riot trying to speculate about these people and the type of persons they might be.

To complete the dressing-up process an army crash helmet was put on my head. It was a contraption not unlike a pudding basin, and was complete with a tough leather harness. “That,” I was told “is to ensure that you do not hurt yourself”. I wondered how I could hurt myself. Then I was taken by all three drivers to another small room, placed on the duty drivers' bed, my feet strapped to the metal frame of the bed, and left in the dark.

realised I was a ‘prisoner' but I enjoyed the feeling. The coats made me hotter and hotter, and sweatier and sweatier. I struggled. No way could I escape or even begin to loosen anything. After about forty five minutes I began to want out, and shouted. I was ignored. After about an hour they did release me. When Driver _________ asked if I had enjoyed the ‘game' I said I had. I meant it. I really meant it! When they invited me to come “over to transport again”, I did………. And we played some variants of their game, with great gusto.

END

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