Date: Wed, 31 Mar 2010 12:33:34 +0100
From: Aaron Swanson <roughpuppy@live.co.uk>
Subject: Meditation

This is a work of fiction, involving male-on-male bondage. Those readers
who are easily offended should read no further.


At first I was disappointed with my university accomodation. It was bad
enough that I had moved hundreds of miles from home, and that I knew nobody
at all in town, but with my paperwork being lost, I lost my place in the
student flats. I had to go around the little town looking for a landlord
who could put me up for a while until the university sorted something out.
It seemed that I was not the only student in this situation, because all of
the hotels were full, and most of the landlords already had tenants.

I eventually found a place on the outskirts of town. There was a small road
leading up to the house, and a few trees that obscured it from view. It
looked to be the ruins of an older building. Although it was large and
grand, it was falling apart, and most of the windows were boarded up. My
landlord lived in the groundskeeper's cottage just behind the old manor. He
was responsible for maintaining the large, private gardens and checking
that no tramps or trouble-makers got into the manor.

He was an old man, although his job kept him in good shape, which made him
look younger. I could see faded tattoos on his muscular arms, and his skin
was rough, but healthy. He had a shade of grey stubble over his chin, but
his head was bald. And he had deep, green eyes, and a permanent half-smile
on his lips. He was one of those old guys that look friendly enough, but
that you wouldn't want to piss off. He was certainly friendly to me when I
knocked on his door to ask about the ad I'd seen in the local paper. But I
know I didn't look like trouble. I'm six foot, with short black hair that I
mess up with gel, and blue eyes. Although I was twenty-two, my face was
still boyish enough to get me asked for ID at clubs and newsagents! But I'm
a swimmer, and I keep in shape, so I have a well-defined body. Not that
many people know that, because I'm quite shy.

Anyway, he invited me in and we got on very well. My room was a converted
basement, like some American sit-com, and it looked really cool. We haggled
a little over the rent, but then he mentioned that he was doing an evening
course (in massage!) at the university on Thursday nights. If I agreed to
check the manor out while he was gone, he'd deduct something from the
rent. It was settled.

My landlords name was Keith, but I didn't talk to him much because he
didn't stay in the house much. My name is Adam by the way. Now I should
probably get to the point of my story. I'm writing this a couple of years
later, once things have had time to sink in. But I'll get right back to the
story now.

I spent a lot of time at the house initially. As I said, I'm a shy person,
and I didn't know anyone at all. My family called a couple of times, but
with all my brothers and sisters to look after, they had pretty much
stopped worrying about me. So one night, I was getting a beer from the
fridge when Keith came into the kitchen.

"Still in your shorts and shirt? Haven't you been out at all today?"
"Nah," I answered. "Its no big deal."  "I don't agree," he said. "You told
me you swim? Well, sitting around all day is going to do some damage to
your muscles."  "What are you talking about?" I said, laughing.
"Seriously. We learnt about it last week at massage class. Your muscles
need a workout."  "They don't feel any different," I said, unconsciously
pressing my hand against my stomach.  "Thats because they've seized up," he
said. "Tell you what, let my get my massage chair set up."  "Oh no
really..."  "I insist! It would be good to apply my knowledge, you'd be
doing me a favour. Besides, you'll feel a lot better about yourself when
I'm done."  "Well, if you're sure..."  "Now listen to me." He turned
serious. "This is a process of physical and mental meditation. It requires
you to trust me, and to be committed. Do you submit yourself to me in this
way?" It was a strange way to pose the question, but I guessed he knew what
he was doing. I agreed with a grin, and we began.

I was glad I didn't have to take my shirt off, but I was only in shorts. I
didn't have socks on either. Once he set up the chair, I lay down in it and
he started the massage. It did feel good, I remember, but I now know that
it was just the beginning.

"Draw your hands back behind you and hold them together," he instructed me.
"Like this?" I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.  "Yeah, now hold that
pose. It's working your shoulders." He stepped away and I concentrated on
keeping my hands together behind my back. Then I felt his hands gently grip
my wrists. Then with a clink, I heard the cuffs snap on.  "What..." was the
last thing I said for a while. The last word I spoke for several weeks
actually, maybe longer. It would also be the last time I'd have any clothes
on for some time. The gag was the next thing to go on. I could feel a small
lump push between my lips as he snapped the gag in place at the back of my
neck. I threw myself off the chair, landing heavily on the floor. By the
time I had struggled to my knees, he was on me. He forced me onto my belly,
then lifted my legs back, snapping the second pair of cuffs on my ankles. I
rolled over, yelling angrily through the gag. I got back onto my feet
again, but it took some time, and all the while Keith stood back and
watched. Then, once I was upright, he simply walked over, put his shoulder
against my stomach, and lifted me like a sack of cement. Helplessly
thrashing, I was carried back down to the basement.

He dropped me onto my bed, and picked one of my belts up from the
floor. Using to to tied my ankle-cuff to the bed-frame, he left me. I still
had plenty of fight left in me, and managed to get off the bed, but I
couldn't get my feet loose, and so I had to lie on my back, on the floor,
with my feet still on the bed, while I watched Keith go to work.

He came down with a suitcase, and started packing my stuff up. I hadn't
brought much with me. He emptied the drawers, tipping all of my underwear
and shirts into the case. Going into the wardrobe, he took down all my
jeans and jackets. Next, he unplugged all the electricals and carried them
out. Finally, he stripped the bed, and went upstairs for a while. The
basement was now completely empty, except for an empty set of drawers, and
empty wardrobe, a mattress on a metal frame, and me. As I lay there waiting
for something to happen, it occurred to me what I had done. Keith knew that
nobody would notice if I wasn't out tomorrow. Or the next day.

This worry set me to thrashing again when he came back down. He brought
down another case, similar to the first. Opening it, he began to unpack
it. One of my ex-girlfriends had been into BDSM a little. Though I'd never
tried it, I knew enough to recognise some of the gear that came out. At
first, coils of black rope and rolls of duct tape came out. Then leather
things, cuffs, collars, harnesses. Then, larger stuff. A sleepsack, and
some masks, which he put in the wardrobe. And finally, something that
terrified me. A sling, which he quickly attached to rings bolted into the
ceiling. I had never noticed them before.

Finally he strode over to me. Without saying a word, he reached down to the
gag and attached something. He started pumping, and the little lump in my
mouth began to expand. He inflated it until my tongue was pressed against
the floor of my mouth, and I could make little more than groans. He picked
me up gently and sat me on the bed, with my back against the wall. Taking
the belt off my ankles, he reached behind me and applied it to my right
wrist, tying it to the bed frame (which ran up the wall a little). Then he
loosened the cuffs.

My left arm swung for him as soon as it was freed, but he was ready,
catching it in an iron grip. Holding it firm, he put a leather cuff on it,
then clipped it to the corner of the frame. This left my arm bent at the
elbow, with my hand at the level of my head. I strained with all my
strength, but he had the advantage, and easily wrestled my right arm into
the same position. He then produced two small spreader bars. Taking the
first one, he attached one end to my left ankle, and the other to the bed
frame. He did the same for my right. His last move was to spread my
legs. Removing the first set of cuffs, he strapped bands to my ankles and
thighs, before looping rope through them. By pulling the ropes taut and
fastening them, he spread my legs and held them in place. Finally, a collar
around my neck was bolted to the frame. I could barely budge an inch of my
body. Only my eyes darted around desperately.

Keith took a pair of scissors and with a few snips, my clothes fell
away. "Nice body," he murmured, without touching me. My cock was semi-hard,
from all the manhandling and adrenaline I think. Keith went to the case and
my eyes widened when I saw what he pulled out. A nappy. I strained every
muscles in my body as he approached, but I was helpless. Keith put a hand
on my cheek and lifted my ass, before sliding the nappy in place and
binding it. Then he started fumbling in his pockets, as he finally spoke to
me.

"This is just the next step of the therapy I've learnt about. Trust me, its
exactly what you need. Think of it as meditation. Keep your mind and body
still."

I screamed for him to let me go, but only a unnnhhhh came out of the
gag. The last thing I saw was Keith still smiling gently as he placed a
leather blindfold over my eyes that turned everything completely
black. Then I felt earpieces being pressed into place. Two tiny squares of
duct tape followed, to keep them in place. The music started. It was the
sound of the ocean, but if I listened closely, I could hear something else,
very faint. A voice, I think. I don't know whether Keith stood and watched
me for a while, or if he just went back upstairs. All of my senses had been
locked down.

That first night felt like forever. The tape didn't stop playing, and the
sound of the waves stirred my bladder. I grew more and more desperate,
until it was hurting to keep it in. Then finally, with the blood heating up
my cheeks, I relaxed, and felt the warmth seep into my groin. I tried
making some sounds but I couldn't hear them, I could only feel the
vibration in my throat.

I don't know how long he left me for, but the first I knew that Keith had
come back was his hands lifting the blindfold. I blinked, even though it
was quite dim in the basement. He didn't take the earpieces out.

When the nappy came away, I blushed again at the smell of my piss. Keith
just wiped it up and rubbed some cream over my crotch and groin. He even
slid a hand up my crack, and smeared it over my ass. I got an erection as
he rubbed it into my cock and balls, but he ignored it. Instead, the cream
spread up over my belly and chest, my armpits, and then down my legs and
arms, right to the backs of my hands and feet. He left it there for a
while, and I could feel the tingling. Then he came back with a damp sponge,
and I could only watch as the cream dragged my hair away with it. Every
hair on my body had fallen out. He washed me thoroughly, and gently, like I
was a puppy or a baby. Then, I moaned a little as the blindfold came back
on, a new nappy was put in place, and I was left alone in the dark again.

I cried twice. The first was when I finally had to take a shit, and I cried
with shame and humiliation as he meticulously cleaned me. The second time
was when he lathered my head in the cream, and left me totally bald. It
wasn't that I was proud of my hair, but the fact that he was willing to do
that showed that this was going to be fairly long-term.

I didn't eat the whole time I was tied. keith had access to saline drips,
which he kept on the bed to sustain me. I was still allowed to drink
though, little squirts that he would pour down my gag when he deflated
it. He would come down, probably twice a day, to check on me and wash
me. He would also untie one part of my body at a time. At first, I used to
flail and fight, but it never worked, so I gave up eventually. He'd flex
the free limb and massage it, so my joints didn't stiffen, and my body
wasn't damaged or uncomfortable by my position. This gave me a full
work-out every day, and the drip helped me to detox. With no body hair, the
washes were more pleasant, and the nappy was much more comfortable. The
fact was, that having all of my choices removed from me placed me totally
into Keiths care. Once my life had been reduced down to what my body could
feel, those sensations became very important. And Keith was always gentle,
always kind about it. The tape became as natural as the breeze. I stopped
consciously listening to it, though if I did tune in to it, I felt very
calm quickly.

The fact is that we can't meditate any more. there are too many things to
hear, to see and do. Even when we try to shut these things out, our bodies
still have freedom to go after them, and our minds don't have the
discipline to control those urges. Keith took all of my poor discipline
away and replaced it with his total, wholesome discipline. I came to love
him.

The only urge I couldn't escape from was my sexual urges. My erections
became more and more frequent as I grew more comfortable with my new
life. Eventually they would conincide with my nappy being removed, when my
cock had the room to stand straight and throb for attention. The urges got
so strong that when my nappy was removed, I'd get hard and then start
bucking my hips, trying to get the slightest sensation onto my cock. At
first, Keith simply tied my waist. But he could see that the constant lust
was interfering with my tranquility. So one day, when the nappy came away
and he wiped me with the cloth, my cock sprang to attention. I moaned
through the gag. I could feel my stomach pulsing in and out as my breath
quickened. Then his warm, large hand wrapped around it, and it felt like an
electric current running through me. With a practised, fluid motion he
stroked my cock, and in less than a minute, I erupted. I couldn't see where
my cum landed but the force of it left me aching. He squeezed the cum out
of me then cleaned me up like he normally did. From then on, he would
relieve me when it got too much. I'd strain at my bonds and whimper, trying
to convince him, but he always left it to his own judgement to decide when
I needed release.

Finally the day came. Keith lifted the blindfold, removed the nappy and
smiled at me. I looked back at him softly. The music stopped and silence
rushed in on me. "I can't keep you any more."

At first I didn't understand. But by the time he'd removed the drip from my
hand, deflated the gag and unbuckled my neck, I was in shock. I was used to
having my bonds loosened, but not all at once. I could barely remember how
to move. The gag was the last thing to slide away from my skin. Keith said
to me, "Put those on," dropping my old clothes onto the bed. I started
trying, but he had to help me with my socks and shoes. As I struggled, he
talked.

"You dropped out of university. Your family know you're here. You work as a
groundskeeper with me. I'm releasing you from employment today, along with
backdated wages. This is what happened to you, if anyone needs to know. Do
you understand?" He said this gently, as though to a child. I nodded
mutely.

I left the house and walked into town. On my back I had a rucksack with the
possessions that Keith hadn't destroyed or sold. I looked in a shop
window. I had lost weight, and my hair was shorter than usual, and needed
styling. I felt the wallet in my back pocket, crammed with cash.

I went into a cafe and ordered some food, my voice croaky and quiet. When I
got the meal, I could barely eat it before I was full, and felt sick. I
looked at the calendar on the wall. December 5th. I'd moved in on September
5th.

I got a hotel room that night, but it was hell. I tossed and turned. I
couldn't get used to the sheets on my skin. My limbs kept moving, as though
they had a life of their own. My clothes felt like they were suffocating
me. And the noises, and the sights, they bombarded me, try as I might to
block them all out. I had no control over my bowels. As day after day went
on, I felt as though the peace I had reached was being destroyed. All of
the corruptions and distractions that Keith had cured me of were flooding
back in, and I hated it. I missed him terribly.

So after Christmas, when I had given myself some time to adjust, and
failed, I went back to Keith's house. When he answered the door, he didn't
seem surprised to see me. I begged him to help me return to my meditation,
to rediscover that wonderful harmony. And he did.

As I sat in that basement, with the same old music soothing me, the ropes
keeping my naked body in check, all the safety and comfort surrounding me
like a cushion, I shed a tear of joy. Smiling, Keith wiped it away
tenderly, and slid the blindfold into place.