Married-with-kids British fire-fighter A.J.
'Chunky' Proctor is learning more about what sort of games are played by a group of men.
In the photo-studio cum playroom
Chunky, still wearing his heavy fire-fighters kit sits strapped to a
chair (and gagged for the first time ever) watching video recordings of previous events at 'The Inner Man'.
A new video sequence begins ...
... A bloke in army cammos
looking self-consciously at the camera. This was no actor. He
looked like a Squaddie, a roughish weather-beaten face and the army
gear was obviously well used. The camera tilted down to look at
beat-up high combat boots and then drifted back up to the slightly
anxious but otherwise determined face. He was sorting some equipment
and arranging it in readiness on a table.
Chunky watched as he
selected an assortment of straps and padlocks and laid them
methodically on a stretcher-like table top. Standing behind it he
indicated for the camera, ankle straps already fixed to the surface
and knee straps either side of a padded board that ran the length of
the table but not the complete width. Metal grille bars showed down
each side of the table; obviously designed for lashing to or strapping
to. Chunky thought it looked like a great board for bondage. In
close-up, hands checked over the waiting straps and padlocks ... the
key from each was removed methodically and put into a little plastic
envelope ... and this was suddenly thrown towards the camera. What was
going on, Chunky wondered as he watched, fascinated?
The camera
was following the army type as he reviewed other equipment laid out
and ready. A rugged-looking face mask or hood lay on the table with
separate eye and mouth covers next to it. Not the usual sleek, soft
sort of hood; thickish natural tan leather looked oiled and stained
and well used ... a serious piece of equipment ... hand made, thought
Chunky. Close to it lay ... something else ... a pair of boxers gum
shields. The camera was following the lining up of this inventory.
Changes of camera angle made Chunky suddenly aware that at least two
cameras were going to cover the event. He congratulated himself ...
because he was beginning to recognise the procedures.
The guy
now seemed ready to start. He picked up a wide leather belt and fitted
it over his army waist belt, buckling it tight. There were solid 'D'
rings at either side and when it was buckled, the camera was shown
that a padlock was being fitted to lock it on. The camera zoomed in on
the closing lock. Next, the demonstrator began to buckle wide leather
wrist restraints carefully onto himself over each cuff of his cammo
jacket. He made sure they were snug and couldn't be slipped out of. A
small padlock was added to each. Chunky knew he was watching a
meticulous and well-planned ritual. Next, a matching wide leather
collar was taken up ... but, change of plan, this was laid down again
alongside the row of waiting padlocks on the table-top ... three more
small and quite a few substantial larger ones ... at least ten Chunky
counted before the camera cut away to a curiously shaped strap wider
at one end than the other and about eight inches
long.
Unbuttoning the flies of his cammo pants Chunky watched
dispassionately as the guy hauled out a sizeable cock. The camera
zoomed in for a close-up as hands manoeuvred the strap around the top
of the ball-sack and then somehow threaded it into itself until the
wide end circled the scrotum and the narrower end wrapped around the
wider strap and buckled. To Chunky, even in his tied-up, gagged,
hooded and totally powerless state ... it seem to be a very odd thing
for somebody to do to them self. He watched the hands adjust the strap
and tighten it another notch. Hairy balls bulged below it and the
semi-limp but heavy cock lolling above. Two small 'D' rings on either
side of the scrotum strap had what looked like a boot lace linking
them. Chunky's mind was somehow switched off but he was in no position
to do anything but continue to watch as a small padlock was
added.
The second camera cut away to register the serious-looking
face of the guy as he now prepared the next phase: he was carefully
bedding boxers gum shields into his mouth. Then the leather hood was
picked up and carefully settled over his head. The sleeves of the
cammo combat jacket (now with a leather restraint locked around each
cuff) were bulky, and to reach the back lacing of the hood looked like
a laborious and tiring process; a labour of love, Chunky decided. He
was aware that the camera had not moved to show the fingers as they
tightened the laces, and it was a very slow process. Not exactly
action-packed TV thought Chunky ... but he was experiencing a new
feeling ... watching an enthusiast ... an artist ... a dedicated
player of a sophisticated game.
He watched and waited as the tough
stained leather gradually moulded itself to the face, stretching and
tightening as the eye holes and wide mouth hole began to squeeze the
skin until it bulged slightly from the holes. The struggling fingers
suddenly stopped and arms lowered for a rest ... and Chunky sensed a
change of thought as the figure groped with now limited vision for the
mouth-cover on the table. Several robust metal snap fasteners soon
secured it in position over the mouth-hole, trapping the gum shields
firmly in place. The eye cover was next, but he'd picked it up and
tucked into the top pocket of his combat jacket for use later.
For now, he still needed to see, Chunky knew ... to achieve
his elaborate self-imprisonment. Chunky had began to savour the slow
and deliberate procedure. Renewed effort with the back lacing of the
hood systematically stretched it still tighter over the face as the
camera lovingly recorded the effect from the front ... and the effort
that was going into the process. Chunky now knew that this tape was
about carefully planned, meticulously carried out ... self-bondage.
Lacing now complete, in spite of quite limited vision the wearer
next tucked the hood under the collar of his army jacket, pulling the
collar upright and closing Velcro around the neck of the hood. Next he
found the lockable leather collar on the table top. Looking directly
into the camera he circled his neck with the wide strip of leather
that also had 'D' rings on either side. Having buckled it snugly, the
head and neck were almost rigid, so groping for one of the remaining
small padlock to secure it took time ... once achieved, the leather
strap plus jacket collar plus hood were all inescapably locked on. A
final check ensured that the 'D' rings were symmetrical at either side
of collar and waist belt.
The remaining group of locks was his next
objective. A camera cut to a close-up of neatly laid-out line of
padlocks, larger and sturdier than those used for the leather strap
buckles. Groping hands found these because he could no longer look
down, and five went into each side pocket of the beat-up cammo jacket.
Now, with seriously reduced head movement and limited vision, the
ankle and knee straps on the table top were once again checked. Other
fixing points on the table at waist and collar level were also
confirmed as being where they were needed. Chunky noticed for the
first time a wide strap fixed to the table at approximately chest
level ... and also a small pillow at the head end. 'Damn, this is
quite a performance', he thought.
A final detail in the
elaborate process was to check that a chain hanging over the centre of
the table top, (the purpose of which Chunky could not yet imagine) was
hanging at the required height. All checked, the masked and booted
army guy carefully climbed up and sat on the table. It took stomach
muscles for him to sit forward and buckle his two booted ankles wide
apart into the waiting straps at one end. No padlocks, Chunky noted,
as knees were next strapped and buckled tight to the table top.
What followed became something of a blur for Chunky! From a
pocket another bootlace appeared. It was used to link the scrotum
strap to the chain hanging above the table. As the body lay back
experimentally, the line tightened ... but not enough to satisfy this
artist in self-bondage ... so he sat up again and pulled the lace
tighter until the scrotum was hauled away from the open flies at a
tortured angle. Lying back again the cammo-suited masochist /
sensualist checked the position of his collar and chest in relation to
waiting table anchor points, and then produced the eye-cover from his
pocket and snapped it firmly to the hood removing all sight. Now the
chest strap; groped for, buckled, tightened ... and the remaining
small padlock found to secure himself so he could no longer sit up.
From his pockets a pair of large padlocks emerged to lock the 'D'
rings at the sides of his waist belt to the table top ... and two more
to commit his neck to irrevocable immobility.
Chunky sat
mesmerised by the now sightless, gagged and locked down ankle to neck
figure on the TV screen. The camera closed in on the still free hands
as they fumbled for the lace that linked the scrotum to the overhead
chain ... and then ruthlessly tighten it a few more inches ... until
the ball sack was pulled upwards and away from body. The cock
stiffened visibly as the self-imposed predicament became more
challenging ... and Chunky's cock stiffened at the sight.
A
final groping into the pockets of the cammo jacket produced two more
sturdy padlocks and Chunky wondered what was left for the self-imposed
prisoner. Single handedly the Expert found the 'D' ring on the
opposite side of his locked-on waist belt and after a bit of a
struggle not only fastened his leather wrist restraint to it ... but
snapped the padlock shut. The camera switched to the other side of the
body in anticipation of the remaining free hand repeating the
difficult process ... which it did only with considerable effort;
blindly fiddling the padlock until the second arm was inescapably
attached across his chest to his waist belt, strait-jacket fashion.
Chunky remembered the keys, tossed away so casually towards the
camera. The performance was over ... but the scene had not begun. Body
anchored down, balls strung up, arms crossed ... everything locked and
... vulnerable ... surrendered.
Two cameras continued to savour
the predicament, zooming gently out and zooming in on tethered
tortured now rampant cock, helpless hands, widespread boots and
sightless muteness behind thick stained leather. Chunky stared
breathless after watching this elaborately slow self-imposed
deliberate surrender to ... what ... to who ... for how
long?
END EXCERPT Second sitting (9) - the sequence continues with a sequence of ARRIVALS (10)
as players come to 'The Inner Man' to play their own prefferred games.