Story: Uninformed Consent
2 September 2015 | 10:30 pm

Bondage, ambiguous consent, hypnosis

Copyright © 2014 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

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Uninformed Consent

Chapter 1,  Relaxing

I answered the door the second time he rang the bell.  He was patient, waiting a full five minutes before he rang the second time.  The boy was standing there waiting quietly with his hands held behind his back.

The boy was a full head shorter than me, with beautiful brown eyes, and looking up at me like a lost puppy.

“I hope I’m not too early, Sir.”  I could actually hear him capitalize the letter S in that statement.

“None of that yet, we’ve not even played.  I haven’t earned that from you yet.  Now what did I say we were going to do when we spoke on the phone?”

I beckoned for him to follow me in to the house and to close the door behind him.  “You said that I was to dress in gym clothes and to be here at 5PM.  That you were going to tie me up tightly and we would talk, to decide what we would do in future sessions.”

“That’s right, Billy.  You can call me Harlow, or Mr. Reynolds if you prefer.  I don’t go in for titles.”  I gestured to the single well-padded reclining chair in the living room.  “Now have a seat.”

“That’s okay, I can take another chair… or the floor.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion Billy.”

Billy settled back into the worn black leather upholstery.  It was obvious from where he settled that he wasn’t the normal occupant of the chair.  My sizable six foot frame had left a deep impression.  I pulled up the ottoman and sat on it, facing him.  His brown eyes were large under his short light brown hair.  In the low light of the room, the only light was behind him, so he could see my eyes clearly but not harshly.

Being sure to make and keep eye contact with him, I told him to give me his hands.  I firmly grasped his wrists and pressed them slowly, confidently into the arm rests of the chair.  As his arms pressed down, a curved and padded stiff leather strap protruded from small slits in the leather on outside of his wrists.

As I made the motions, I began speaking softly to him, “You’re safe here.  You told someone where you are.  You checked with other people that I’m a safe person.”

With a deft movement of my fingers and without letting go of his hands, I tucked the leather into slits on other side of the wrists until I heard a click.  The restraints were a toy of mine.  There was a timer built into the arms of the chair.  In five hours without my intervention, or in some specific emergency situations, the restraint would release automatically.  There was also a manual release to the restraint in the back of the chair.  I didn’t tell Billy that.

“Billy, I want you to relax.  I’m going to talk for a while, Billy.  Just relax and obey what I tell you.”  I put just the slightest emphasis on the words relax and obey.

As I spoke, I reached around to the sides of the back of the chair and pulled out a leather belt which I ran over his chest lightly, and buckled in to place.

“Now you came over here to experience bondage, and you will experience it, but first I need to tell you some things.”  I watched his breathing, matching mine to his.  That’s a hard part, a little bit of finesse, trying to speak and breathe at a rate not natural to you.

I moved the ottoman closer to the recliner, which was upright at the moment.

“You like bondage because it relaxes you.  You told me that it lets you drift off.  So I want you to drift off and listen to my voice for a while.”

In time with our exhalations, I slowly ran my hands lightly down his upper arms and down to his forearms with their faint layer of sun-bleached brown hair.

“You like to be the focus of attention.  You can relax when you’re bound because someone else is in charge.  When you’re bound, it’s easy to obey.  It’s easy to let go and let someone else decide when you’re restrained.  When you let someone tie you up, you get to relax.  ”

I continued stroking his arms, his thighs, and his face.  Everything was easily reachable through the micro-fiber gym shorts and sleeveless t-shirt.  I punctuated every issuance of “obey” and “relax” with a slight downward pressure wherever I was stroking at the time.

I spent several minutes repeating the statements, and keeping up the body contact and slowed the stroking and my breathing; his breathing slowed in response.

“Now Billy, I know you want to relax more and experience a stronger bondage, isn’t that right?  You don’t need to speak, just nod.”  His now droopy head nodded, his glassy eyes heavily lidded.

“If you want more, you need to obey me, can you do that?  Just nod.”  Another nod.

“Good boy.”  I smiled broadly and squeezed his thighs firmly.  “Now relax and lay your head back and close your eyes.  You’ve already seen the other restraints on the chair.  We’re going to continue restraining your body so that you can relax more.”

“You know what the leather straps feel like on your arms and chest.  I’m going to restrain your legs next.  I want you to imagine what that is going to feel like.  You’ll feel the smooth and padded leather laying against your shins, just above your socks.  It will start off loose, and then it will pull snug.  You know what that feels like.  You can feel the pressure of the straps just as you’re thinking of it.”

I watched Billy’s breathing quicken slightly as he lazily smiled at the thought of the restraint.  Then I saw his knees bend ever-so slightly, pulling his legs against the padded front of the chair.

“Think how good it will feel when your legs are bound up.  When your legs are restrained, you can obey me more easily.  Do you like to obey, Billy?  Just nod.”  He nodded.  “That’s right, Billy, and by being bound by me, you obey me.  Remember, Billy, when you’re bound, you obey, and when you obey, you’re bound.  It’s easy, Billy.  When you’re bound, you obey.  And when you obey, you’re happy and relaxed.”

“You like having your legs bound, like your arms.  You want them to be bound and immobile, don’t you Billy?”  He nodded, “In your mind, you can just see the straps pulling back on your legs, keeping them tight and taught.  You can feel the pressure around your ankles.  It just feels so good to feel them pulled tightly together and against the chair, right Billy?”  He nods.

“Do you like the feeling of them bound this way, Billy?”  More nods.

Okay, time to see if I’ve gotten through to the boy. 

“You know the restraints around your legs are holding you, because you want to obey.  The more you obey me, the stronger the restraints are.  You want to obey, so the restraints will hold you in place, Billy.” 

Now, in a faster, near staccato rhythm I rattled off, “Test the restraints, Billy.  When you test the restraints, you obey me, which will make the restraints stronger.  The more you try, the more you obey, the stronger they’ll be and you’ll be held in place.”  As I spoke, I saw the muscles of his quads pulsing; clearly he was trying to fight the non-existent restraints on his legs.

I let him have just a second or two of testing.  “Relax Billy, you can stop trying.  You were a good boy.”

I could see his body visibly relax as he stopped fighting the invisible restraints.  This was better than I’d hoped; the boy was going to be an excellent subject. 

Perhaps I should’ve included hypnosis in my list of interests on my profile.  I mean, I did list “subtle bondage”... It wasn’t a lie.

Story: Shut Doors Open Again
24 August 2015 | 10:30 pm

Bondage, nonconsensual, abduction, anal, mind control

Copyright © 2014 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

What follows is a piece of fiction. Any similarity to living persons is coincidental. The author does not condone the activities described herein, though he has been known to enjoy similar activities himself .

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Shut Doors Open Again

The door slammed shut behind him.  I sat down on the couch and curled into a ball.   Hugging my knees to my chest, I barely succeeded in suppressing the tears as he left me.

The fucking bastard.

Ted had been the one who insisted that we have a closed relationship and after a year of loyalty, I’d walked in on him and my old master, Tory.   It would have been a hot scene had it not ripped my heart out.

There was Ted, “the man who never bottoms” in our sling, getting ploughed.  His fine but dense chest hair was matted from the sheets of sweat that poured off him.  The striations of his hamstrings stood out as his pale legs pulled on the bungee cord stirrups.  The v-shape of Tory’s Mediterranean skinned lats led down to his smooth ass, framed by the custom leather chaps I’d purchased for him five years earlier.  My old master, who’d dumped me for a teenager the moment I turned 25, was fucking my boyfriend.

I’ll admit I lost it.  I can’t repeat the string of obscenities that spewed from my mouth after the stunned silence, not for any sense of decorum, but because I can’t remember it through the haze of anger that colored the rest of that day.  I remember that things were said that couldn’t be taken back.  And I remember the smirk Tory gave me as he continued to fuck Ted through my tirade.

That was a week ago.  Today, Ted moved out.  He’d left me for Tory, and I felt like collapsing in on myself, the void of his absence had formed so quickly.

Blinking back my not-quite-formed tears, I straightened my back and resolved to purge Ted from my life.  I wasn’t going to let that two-timing deceitful bastard ruin my life.

It took me a day to go through our . . . my apartment to box up the remnants of his belongings.  I found ass toys, other accouterment, and even a latex catsuit that I knew weren’t mine.  How the hell had he hidden all this from me?  In my own home?  It was my condo, after all.

Ted’s turnabout hurt all the worse knowing that he’d been against any kink play in our relationship.  Kink play I had asked him to try on a number of occasions.  The recent sling purchase was a concession that seemed to make more sense now.

It was when I was cleaning his account off my office computer that my life turned around forever.  Since he’d broken all faith with me, I felt no compunction about going through his chat logs.  I felt it fair to learn what he’d been up to.  The chat log that stood out most was with “ToryMast”.  The chats started three months earlier.  I couldn’t believe what I read.

ToryMast: I see you’ve set up your account.  Good boy.

SlvTed15821321: Thank you, Sir.  i included the slave number like you instructed.

ToryMast: I know, boy.  Are you training your ass like I taught you?

SlvTed15821321: Yes, Sir.  i’m doing really well.  It still hurts when i wear the plug to work, but it’s less now. i'm afraid that Mikey is going to notice though.

ToryMast: Michael, yes.  I know Michael very well.  Whenever you think he’s going to find your ass toys, just tell him what I told you.

SlvTed15821321:  Yes Sir, “Michael, are you feeling fuzzy headed?”

There was a jarring sensation, and when I looked up, it was a half hour later.  I had the sense that I’d read through the whole chat, but I couldn’t remember anything.  I figured I’d just zoned out while reading, since it was such a stressful experience.  So, I tried to read it again…  and lost another half hour.

“What the fuck?” I thought.

I tried one more time, and lost another half hour.  And then, did something I thought I’d never do again.  I called Bill.  I was surprised I still remembered his number.

“Stafford here.  This is pretty late, so whoever this is, it better be important.”  Brusque as usual, it was one of the things I remembered liking about him.

“Bill?  It’s Mike.  Mikey Walters, I…”

He cut me off abruptly, “Mikey?  You’ve got some balls calling me after the way you walked out on me.  What, 7 years ago now?”

“I know, Bill.  Uhm, I kinda need…”

He cut me off again, “You need?  Really.  You run off with that tool after I set you up with a good job, and a nice collection of gear?”

“Bill, I’m sorry, I’m really really sorry!  But I need your help.  I’m in trouble, I think.  And it’s because of that tool.”  The pain in my voice must’ve gotten through to Bill, because he let me finish.  He remained silent for long seconds, and I was worried the connection might be lost, or he had hung up the phone.  “Bill?”

“Talk to me Mikey.  You have two minutes.  The clock starts now.”

As quickly as I could, I rambled off about how I’d been dumped by Tory, hooked up with Ted, and then dumped by Ted for Tory, and then about the lost time.

“What do you mean you’ve lost time?”

“I don’t know, I’m reading the logs of Ted’s chat with Tory, and I just . . . can’t remember any of it.”

“Really?  Ted’s chat with Tory?  Tell me about it."

I tell Bill about cleaning up the apartment, finding all the kinky toys that Ted had always scoffed at, and then finding and reading the logs.  Eventually, Bill tells me, "Okay, go back to the chat logs and read them to me one at a time."

So I sit down at the computer and start reading again...  I get as far as reading “Michael, are you feeling fuzzy headed?” and the next thing I know I'm blind... no, I'm hooded!  And gagged!  As I try reaching up to my head, I realize my arms are restrained as well.  I'm otherwise naked, and in a sling.  I'm confident it's my sling, even.  I recognize the feel of the leather and the spring of the stirrups.

"You stupid, stupid, boy.  You never told me what you were doing with him."  It's Bill's voice, muffled through the hood I'm wearing.  "It makes sense now.  But I'm surprised you're still so well conditioned."

I try saying, "But Bill!", but it comes up "Bhmph Bfill!" around the large gag built into this hood.  Bill lives on the other side of town.  I'm feeling scared and confused about how this has happened when I feel his hand, slick with lube, at my ass.

"Shut up, Mikey.  First, I'm going to take advantage of this situation, then we can talk about deprograming you."  What does he mean?  'Deprogramming' me?  "Or maybe re-programming."

I feel one finger, then two, quickly enter my ass, "Well, you're not too tight, that's good, boy."  Angry at the uninvited invasion, I try forcing his fingers out.  "So you have some life in you?  That's good.  It won't work, but you remember I don't like lifeless sacks.  I prefer caged animals."

I thrash in the sling as he works a third finger in and starts stretching my hole.  The bungie cords supporting the stirrups make it almost impossible for me to lift my ass out of the sling; he can continue to work my hole without my getting away.  It's what he always did with me when we were together, and I remember loving it.

When he starts working a fourth finger in, I start moaning and stop thrashing.  He can still work my prostate like no other.  Despite my vocalized objections, I can feel my dick drooling pre-cum onto my belly.  Under the hood, my eyes are rolling back into my head as he works my hole like he used to all those years ago.  Some things just don't change.

When he suddenly pulls his fingers out, the jarring sensation wakes me out of my blissful reverie to consider that this is still basically rape.  I don't know how I wound up like this.  I try remembering that I broke up with Bill for good reason, but then realize I can't remember what the reason was.

I feel a baseball bat against my ass... no... that's Bill.  That's his monstrous cock nudging my ass.  "You remember this boy?"  I weakly nod in response.

"No, boy, you know what I want."

I shake my head in response.  I broke up with him.  I don't want this.

He smacks me through the hood lightly.  "Say it boy."

I mutter around the gag.  I broke up with him, didn't I?

He smacks me harder.  The hood is padded, so even though I feel it, it's softened.

His cock is sitting at my hole, and I miss... I shake my head.  'I'm Tory's good boy.'  The phrase floats through my head, and I'm confused.

He smacks me harder again.  The padding still softens the blow, but the shock knocks the thought loose.  "Say it, Mikey."  His voice is soft in comparison to the slap.

I scrunch my eyes up under the hood.  I'm confused.  I want to give him what he wants, but I'm not allowed to.  'Tory will be angry with me.'  The thought rises to the top of my mind, and I shake my head again, trying to dislodge it.  I feel Bill's cock, hard and wet with lube, rubbing across my ass hole and I want it.  I need it.

I inexplicably start struggling against the bonds, trying to get free.  I don't know why I'm doing it but I'm also muttering something about Tory being angry with me.  Every time I mention Tory, I get another slap across my hooded face; I see stars with each hit.  

Bill's cock is at my ass, demanding attention.  This barrier in my mind, the thing stopping me from saying what Bill's been trying to pull out of me, breaks after one more smack across my face.  "Fuck me, Sir!  Please!" I shout around the gag, because I feel empty and I want him in me.

Before I finish saying 'please' I feel him sliding in, stretching me wide.  He doesn't slam it in.  He's never been cruel to my ass, at least.  Oh god, I feel it sliding slowly, wetly, into me.  I feel the natural ridges of his cock sliding over the sensitive skin at my sphincter.  I missed this so much.  Missed him so much.  I feel myself shaking as he slides in.

"Is this what you wanted, boy?"  He asks as I moan when his cock is all the way in.

When I don't answer immediately, he quickly pulls back until just the massive mushroom head of his cock is still in me.  "I said, 'Is this what you wanted', boy.  I won't ask again."

Suddenly I start nodding manically.  I'm sobbing as I repeat over and over again around the gag, "Yes!  Please!"  I continue repeating myself as feel him sliding all the way back in, and then he starts his slow, methodical pistoning of my ass.  His hands, strong and rough, one still slick with lube, grab my torso and pull me onto him.

I remember what he likes, and start clamping down, trying to milk his cock with my ass, which is both difficult and easy because it's been a long time since I've been stretched this much.  I'm at the limit of what I can take because I'm out of practice with this much girth.  I keep it up, twisting my ass around his cock, squeezing.  I couldn't get away if I wanted to, but I can move around in place.

I'm in heaven.  It's as if the intervening years have faded away.  I feel him pounding and rubbing my prostate constantly.  I'm whimpering and moaning in between my mantra of "Yes!  Please!".  I even try to fuck the air while he pistons my ass.  There's a desperation in my actions, in my voice, and he can feel it, he can hear it.  He knows he controls me.

Bill can go like this for a long time, with his slow, steady pounding of my hole.  Gagged and hooded, I can only taste and smell leather.  I can see nothing, hear less, but I can feel him.  My world has become every sensation coming from my ass and cock.

After minutes that feel like hours, he leans over me, grabbing my cock in one hand and the collar of my hood in the other.  Using the hood and my cock as handles, he starts roughly pulling me onto his cock more aggressively.

"Boy!"  I focus my world on his voice.  It's as if the way he says 'boy' cannot be ignored.  "Come, boy!".

He's not stroking my cock at all.  The twisting of my hips get me no direct stimulation to most of my shaft. But his firm grip on the base of my shaft, squeezing, the feeling of his cock in me, and the force of his voice push me over, and I'm coming.

I'm shooting, and the first load of hot wet come landing on my chest.  I tense everywhere, as if this orgasm had been building for weeks, from my toes, calves, and thighs, up to my jaw which clamps down on the gag, and out to where my fingers bunching into fists.  In between, my ass must be like a vice on Bill's cock, because within a second of the start of my orgasm, he's growling and I can feel his cock pulsing with orgasm.  

Splash after splash of wet, sticky jism lands on my chest, some of it running down my side.

Even as I finish, Bill continues pumping in and out of my hole, riding my aftershocks, as I repeatedly mutter around the gag, "Thank you, sir" and start crying.

"I know, boy.  I'll fix things, Mikey.  I'll fix you."

I don't know why I'm crying.  I don't know why I ever left Bill in the first place.  And thinking about it, I don't know why the memory of Tory's voice scared me so.


Haven't decided if I'm going to write a follow-on to this.  I think I leave a somewhat reasonable ending, letting people let their imaginations run.

Hypnosis: it can work
4 February 2014 | 10:30 pm

This is a re-telling of an experience I had with at and during Hypnocon 2008.  Hypnocon is a gathering of gay men interested in erotic hypnosis in the United States.  The conference moves around from year to year.  In October 2008, it was in Washington DC.

The conference started off Saturday morning at the DC Center at 10AM.  The two local friends of mine showed up.  The event was structure such that Sunday was planned out, but Saturday was free-form.  We discussed what the group wanted to discuss.  Problem with that was that one of my friends is a mental health professional...

Problem may not be the right word.  Because Saturday was unstructured, there was no clear place to explicitly discuss ethics and the dangers of hypnosis.  So my friend kept on bringing it up over and over as we were trying to discuss the framework of the day.

If you're wondering "How can hypnosis be dangerous?", think about this:  You're working with a former marine who spent a lot of time in Iraq or Afghanistan and you use an induction that describes a large stretch of sand.  It has the makings of anything from an instant flash back to unearthing an underlying case of PTSD that hadn't really shown itself yet.

A lot of the morning and afternoon involved discussing, "If you find someone has described ____" (abuse, anxiety, family problems), "step back and politely recommend the person go to professional therapy.  This is erotic hypnosis, not theraputic."

IMG_1358Saturday night I learned that yes, I am fairly easily put under.  The 'tist I was working with tried associating my sexual energy with my aggression...  and my werewolf came out.  Initially, I rejected the suggestions because I was really not comfortable letting my aggressive top side out.  But slowly with a few other nudges, it started working.  You mave have seen the "evil" picture before (over on the right).  That was me, but add snarling, gnawing, growling and ready to fuck anything that moved.

The 'tist was bigger than me and was able to control me and keep me in check, but it took some time to calm down.  Some people into puppy play can relate to the difficulty coming out of a pup headspace, the inability to talk.  This was very much like that.  I couldn't speak.  It was amazing.

Sunday started with a discussion of making of audio files, MP3s and such.  Hypnotic induction/suggestion files.  Then we spent the afternoon relaxing.  The hypnotist from Saturday put me under again and re-triggered that mindset where sexuality was tied to aggression and woke me up.  So he loaded the weapon, but didn't aim it.

As I was just sitting around, someone else hanging around in the hotel room (there were 5 of us) had taken off his shoes an was lying on the floor.  Mmmm, clean white socks.  So I went over and started giving him a foot rub, which is something I enjoy doing.  And white socks.  The footrub progressed over five to ten minutes to a leg rub, then on to a back rub.

At the end of the back rub, since he seemed to like the pressure, I lay on top of him on the floor.  My whole body was aligned with his, arms over arms, legs over legs, torso over torso.  He was holding my whole weight on top of him.  I was fully dressed at the time, but the UA jockstrap made humping so much fun.  I started grinding against my massage subject...  and within a short while, I had him aggressively pinned, pulling his arms in against his body, gnawing on his shoulder and tying his legs up with mine.  When I flipped him over, he got to see the feral look in my eyes...  that's when the hypnotist came over and grabbed me by the neck, whispering in my ear to get me to calm down.

Cooling down after that, I took off my shirt, which showed everyone that I was wearing my "dogs singlet under my shirt and pants.  After cooling down I got dressed again and we hunted around the Thomas Circle area for an iPhone charger, since my iPhone was running out of power and I didn't bring my wall charger with me.  That's when we headed over to the Green Lantern, where I planned to meet up with Bullneck.

Walking into the Green Lantern, Bullneck hadn't arrived yet, so we hung out a bit.  As we approached the bar, the very hot bartender looked at us, pointed at me and said, "None of you get served until he takes his shirt off."  I thought he was pointing the member of our now quartet standing behind me.  No, it was me.  Being in a compliant mood, I did, and shrugged out of my shirt to show the singlet.  Apparently, that's what he'd wanted to see: my fur.

IMG_0288After ordering drinks, I was standing around chatting with folks and thought, "Y'know, I don't live here anymore, I don't need to worry about embarrassing myself, and well, I've already gotten compliments from the extremely cut bartender."  So I demonstrated what I absolutely loved about my cargo pants: the fact that I can take them off without having to remove my boots.  Giving my pants to the bartender to hold, I hung around the bar in just my singlet and boots.

When Bullneck showed up, that's how I looked.  And after a little while, the hypnotist from Saturday and Sunday that I'd been working with demonstrated (after asking my permission) how well I respond to hypnosis.  He induced a light trance using a rapid induction...  basically I was primed from our previous work.  And then woke me up.

For further demonstration, he did something with me that he hadn't done with me before.  He tied my hands together behind my back.  Yes, Hypnotically.

It was really amazing and kind of weird.  Yes, I knew there was no rope.  Being that my hands were behind my back, I couldn't see it.  But the strange thing was that I could feel the rope binding my wrists to each other and to my body.

I know what you're thinking, "He was just holding his hands behind his back."

Bullneck played along, holding my drink for me since I couldn't reach it.  That's when it got weird: A random bar patron that none of us knew walked up to me and started pulling the straps of the singlet off my shoulders.  He was speaking in some Germanic accent commenting on, "You Americans are so repressed," while Bullneck and I stared in surprise until my hypnotist friend stepped in and moved the stranger away.  The fucked up part was that entire time, I still couldn't my arms...  That was . . .  err . . .  a bit of a "convincer".

At the end of the night, we got the number of this really bartender - the hot, muscled, young, adorable former marine with really great ink...

Resources to find out more about hypnosis, and in particular erotic hypnosis, are all over the internet.  To find out about future Hypnocons in the US and elsewhere, check out:

  • has a large number of hypnosis MP3s.  However, they're not all the best quality, and you will have to pay for the downloads.  I do, however, recommend "Blink's Good Boy" file if you do start downloading.
  • (aka ChewToy) has a number of interesting audio files for free, as well as some paid files.
  • YouTube user UltraHypnosis has a large selection of available files as well.

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