Chapter Ten:
MIND FUCK

It was all so totally professional ... no fuss, no bruises, no noise. Chet told Malcolm there was some equipment in the backroom that might surprise him! He was so right. Soon as they walked in the door somebody pinned his arms and covered his mouth with a leather gloved hand. Leg irons were around his boots before he realized what was happening. After that the gag and cuffs were relatively easy, but he put up a good struggle. It's all there on photographic record. He'd calmed down a bit by the time they brought him out to me. I'm not sure what they threatened him with if he didn't stop struggling and play along. He was more embarrassed than angry ... but I gave him a kiss on the gag and told him I'd let them take it off if he agreed to go to the bars with the nice gentlemen ... but the chains would stay on for the whole tour. Mike was continuously snapping photos like the NEWS OF THE WORLD at a Roman Orgy. Malc glared at me and I said to the four men standing guard “He may need a collar and leash if he decides to be uncooperative. Are you going to co-operate? Nobody wants to humiliate you. Just show you how different San Francisco is from Croydon. Now, are you going to play along?” He looked at John the cop for some reason before he nodded, and I wondered for a flash what sort of threat the cop had made. I unbuckled the gag and gave his moist face a couple of big wet kisses and everybody applauded. He says to me quietly “I'll get my own back for this, lady,” and I smiled and told him I'd look forward to it ... and with that off they went, Malc clanking along with his escort of four beefy guards and his own personal photographer.

You see it's all theatre. Fantasy games well played have rules and agreed limits even if Judge Rant hasn't heard about them. That night not only Malcolm but I had three hours of suspense, excitement, a little fear and a huge amount of pure sexual arousal. Even when Janie and three other ladies took me off to this amazing Club to see six hunky male strippers driving 800 women into a frenzy, part of my mind was with Malcolm handcuffed and helpless. On the way home we even stopped off at this terrifically smart Night Club with a Drag Cabaret. Glamorous or bawdy, those men were not only a hoot they were living the lives they wanted to live and the audience wanted to be there ... and I thought who's to say they're wrong.

At this point I should say something about the subject of consent and the removal of it. In the light of Judge Rant's draconian disregard for the concept, read Jim Stewart's 'Talking Points' on both MUTUAL CONSENT (see page 74) and CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT (page 77) . Enough to say here that in an SM 'Scene' surrender of control to someone you trust is one of the most rewarding elements in the game. Of course mutual trust and responsibility are essential. The danger comes with lack of experience and particularly lack of shared knowledge between players. In this instance the adventure was a classic example of the sort of psychological catch-as-catch-can which makes the whole subject of erotic fantasy games so potent. For years we had been expert in taking control of each others' head space ... but this was the first time I'd not only taken him over, but handed him over ... and allowed him to be taken out from my control ... and in retrospect both Malcolm and I agreed that it was (and remains) one of our favourite 'Scenes'.

So, meanwhile, our Hero was, as I learned later, after suffering the intense embarrassment of a walk through the streets of San Francisco manacled hand and foot, faced with the problem of getting into a car wearing leg-irons linked by a short chain. John the cop's private car had a 'Prisoner seat' specially shaped for someone with hands handcuffed behind their back. It also had two safety belts to prevent any movement of the torso or legs. I know because those seats are illustrated in the Law Enforcement Supplies catalogue that John later gave Malc to bring home with him. The whole sequence of events on Malc's night to remember were documented shot by shot in the forty page presentation photo album which reached us in London soon after we got home. From leaving the Janus party to when they dropped him off to wait for me at Mike and Janie's house, I have all the evidence, Your Honour ... along with all our other family holiday snapshot books.

Basically the highlights of his tour were being escorted into the first bar where among a crowd of leathermen Malc was by no means the only one in chains. Highly stylized scenes were taking place on all sides ... I've since read THE URBAN ABORIGINAL so I understand better about the needs of 'Leathermen' and their rituals. So that Malc was able to have a drink John switched the cuffs for a Transport Belt: That's a lockable leather escort belt (standard police equipment) which allows the prisoner to take a drink or a leak while still restrained by handcuffs on a thread-through chain.

The second bar was a ten minute drive away, and out in the street they decided Malc should travel in the boot of the car. Surrounded by four of them he didn't have much choice but agree. Having promised to behave, John took the leg-irons off him so he could climb in unaided. It was fully carpeted and there were even anchor points (so he didn't roll around when the car went round corners). They reassured him there was enough air because “Dozens of people have travelled a lot of miles in here”. When they all arrived at the next port of call they warned Malcolm that this was a bar for dedicated SM enthusiasts and he might see things that would worry him ... but nobody there was being forced to do anything they didn't want to be forced to do.

Well, from the photos it looks like a terrifying orgy of torture, humiliation and pain. In reality it was a crowd of a couple of hundred men proving to themselves or to people they loved that they could endure, enjoy or survive. 'Tops' and 'Bottoms', Leather Masters with their so-called Slaves, cowboys, construction workers, prisoners in army gear with military escorts. Musclemen were strung up from the ceiling by their boots, being flogged with belts; nipples, genitals and buttocks being abused in all manner of ways ... and nothing illegal about any of it. And, if you please, in the middle of all the mayhem my Malcolm smiling with his friends, casually drinking beer and eating peanuts. The photos are irrefutable proof that life in the wicked world of S&M is not exactly what it seems.

At the entrance to the third bar I guess Malcolm was the closest he came to panic. It was, he was told, a special 'Naked Night'. He could keep his leather chaps, waistcoat and boots but the jeans had to go! Well by this time I guess he trusted the four hunks who were showing him The Town ... so along with John the cop, Nick the Marine, Chet the college professor and his lover Bill the construction site manger (plus Mike the bank president) they all peeled down to various states of leather undress. Photos of this sequence are tactfully limited to our hero. They even let him leave the handcuffs with his jeans in the locker by the door before they entered what (according to Malc) looked like Dante's Inferno.

It was, in fact, 'Shaving Night' at THE RAMROD bar. Malc might have been more difficult to handle if there hadn't been a chair vacant when they walked in. Without warning four pairs of brawny arms lifted him bodily into what used to be a dentist's chair before it was fitted with straps to immobilize ankles, knees, thighs, wrists, elbows, chest, waist and neck. When everybody stood back and Malc was sitting comfortably, he was offered the choice of the hard way or the easy way. He's a sensible lad so he nodded as much as the neck strap would allow, gritted his teeth and accepted the inevitable. The sequence of photos of my husband stoically watching two pairs of manly hands clipper and wet-shave away all his genital hair don't embarrass me. The whole album has pride of place among our books of holiday snaps. They may be pornographic to you Mrs. Whitehouse ... but to me and my husband they are mementos of times enjoyed. If owning them makes me a criminal ... tough shit (as Ethel definitely would not say). The fact that a year later Malcolm allowed the slide version of this photo set to be shown to our Group in Croydon AND a few years later at the 'DRESSING FOR PLEASURE' weekend at the Penta Hotel in New York tells you that we're either the most decadent degenerates in the world, or very sophisticated people.

Perhaps the final sequence of Malcolm's adventure into the world of 'Leather Mansex' is my favourite. Bare buttocks and shaved crotch open to the elements he was escorted manacled hand and foot from The Ramrod with his head encased in a tight fitting leather hood without eyes or mouth. Loaded bodily into the boot of the car he was driven off to destination unknown. I can still get hot imagining how he must have felt. Once inside the new space he was strapped standing spread-eagled in the middle of a mirrored room with spotlights illuminating his glistening leather chaps and boots and sweating chest. Chet told him through the hood that anybody who gets shaved publicly at The Ramrod wins a prize, his was a pair of nipple clamps joined by a heavy chain. I'm told Malc yelled when they first gripped his tits but as Chet reasoned with him, yelling was pointless inside a thick leather hood in a soundproof room. He then thanked Malc for a memorable evening and hoped he'd return the favour when Chet and Bill were next in London ... but for now it was au revoir. He unsnapped the detachable blindfold from the hood before leaving so Malc, left alone, could appreciate his spectacular predicament mirrored from many angles. He had no choice but to stand there and await further developments.

When I got home with Janie it was late. Mike without ceremony told me to follow him straight down to their playroom and told me to go in alone. In the mirror Malc saw me behind him and groaned. I moved close behind him and we looked at the two of us in the various mirrors. I walked around to the front to get a better look at the tit clamps ... lifted the heavy chain and let it drop suddenly. He flinched but no more than that. There are no photographs of what happened next but it took an hour. I saw Malc's jeans were neatly folded on a table nearby and with them a small gift wrapped package labelled “A present for Sally .. and Malcolm”. Inside a velvet bag marked FAMILY JEWELS was the most beautiful reproduction of a penis and balls moulded in superbly realistic feeling plastic. Also there was a small tube of lubricant with it's own label from Chet and Bill saying “Disappointed we weren't allowed to round out his evening ... we hope you will.”

Well, I did!

END CHAPTER 10

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