Chris remembered seeing the plywood on the floor and the pile of padded leather straps and box of metal clamps and screws on the table in the otherwise empty guest room. He had said nothing. He and his buddies had spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and playing poker in the den.
He couldn’t remember much of anything else from that evening…except that he had lost some sort of big bet…and the repeated sound of an electric drill jarring him in and out of restless dreams throughout the night.
He woke up some time Saturday morning, completely unable to move with even his head strapped tightly down in some sort of football helmet. He cried out, and Jim, who owned this place, entered the room and smiled down at him from above.
“Good morning, boy.” he said. “If you keep making noise like that I’ll need to gag you. You wouldn’t want to spend your first day as my bondage boy gagged.”
Jim stepped away, and Chris suddenly remembered the bet…he was going to be bound like this all weekend. He furiously struggled with all his strength, but literally couldn’t move an inch. As he lay there, panting, he realized that this was somehow turning him on. A massive erection had formed in his tight shorts, which seemed to swell with every tug and pull against the firmly attached restraints.
And suddenly a strange desire came over him. He wanted more. He started yelling and cursing as loud as he could, until Jim returned, carrying a thick gag, a handful of straps, and the electric drill.
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