Max Roper

Not many vehicles come down here. Especially at night. I walked out to see who it was. The car was stopped with its parking lights on. As I walked toward it a spotlight came on, blinding me. I instinctively put my hands up to shield my eyes. The passenger door opened and a voice said, “Stop right there and put your hands all the way up.” It was a woman’s voice. I don’t get newspapers or the internet out here but I had a radio. I was pretty sure I knew who they were. I put my hands up. ...

Harriet was rummaging in the glovebox for her smokes when I spied an old dude sloping up the dirt road towards us. He raised his chin in recognition, a smile just showing under his bushy grey mustache. This could be exactly what we needed. I got out as he drew even with the car. “Howdy,” I said. “Live around here?” “Not really. I live in town but I’ve got some property down the hill with a little trailer. I‘m just here taking it easy for a few days. You local?” ...

[There was a longer story here, most of which has been excised. If you’re like me (and I know I am) the preliminaries are often just chaff to be sifted through on the way to the Good Stuff. I’ve chosen to eliminate the chaff.] The older woman held the gun. It looked enormous. Meanwhile the blonde pulled several bundles of rope from her satchel. “I’m going to tie you up now,” she said matter-of-factly. ”I don’t want to hurt you but we must be assured enough time to get away. Please don’t make us use force.” ...

“Come in!” “Hello! I am here to take care of the room. I could come back later, or…” “Thanks, but I don’t really need anything. The room’s fine, the trash isn’t even half full. I’m a neat person.” “I see that. May I ask, why are you dressed like that?” “It’s comfortable. I’m relaxing here, reading, looking out at the ocean.” “Yes, but those shorts are so tight. How can that be comfortable?” ...

We’d been going out for several months when I found out about Hank. I’d wondered why he liked to hold my hands over my head when we made love. And I noticed he liked backing up against a tree or a light pole, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me. One afternoon we were on the floor in my kitchen, Hank on his back, me kneeling astride. I leaned forward to kiss him while grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head, like he did to me. He immediately became hard under me and his kisses became almost frantic. ...

Note: This story could be either F/m or M/m - your preference - enjoy. Dr Vincent is an older gentleman with whom I have an arrangement. I met him when he was was a fortyish professor at the college who had a taste for cannabis. I was a young townie with a connection. He had access to good scotch for which I had a taste exceeding my means. We worked things out. Before long we began getting together regularly and indulged in our favorite mood enhancers, played some chess, found out we had things in common, and became sortof- friends. ...

The bracelet made of clothesline got his attention so he asked her about it. “You like it?” she asked. “A special friend made it for me? I wear it cuz it, like, reflects my lifestyle?” She was half his age at most, way too skinny for his tastes, and the question marks at the end of her sentences were a definite turnoff, but he still had to ask. “What lifestyle is that?” ...

I spotted him at the Safeway and he looked fine. Early twenties, home from college, tight Levi’s, tighter tee shirt, sneakers, muscles, a nice smile, all grown up now. Ready for me, finally. “Hello Ms Brown. You’re looking lovely.” “Why thank you Arthur. You’re not looking bad yourself.” He blushed fetchingly. I was in one of my velvet phases that year. The dress was mid-calf, perhaps a bit much for grocery shopping but when you look like I did you like to flaunt it. He certainly didn’t mind filling his eyes with me. ...

I am a fantasy. It’s a living. I have a small select group of people who enjoy my services. All my clients come on a referral basis. Other people in my business know what I do and send the occasional prospect my way. There is some turnover so there is sometimes a space on my calendar but generally I don’t need new clients. The ones I have treat me well and are sufficient. ...

I’d been out to see him several times in the past. I’d also sneaked around at night, peeking in at him. So I knew what he did. When I heard his old truck grinding up the road again I decided to have some more fun with him. I waited until his second night, then walked down to his property. It was almost dark when I arrived and I could see the flicker of candlelight from within his trailer. I moved in slowly and was disappointed to see he’d drawn the curtains. But maybe not all of them. I went around to the back side and sure enough, there he was, kneeling on the floor in a circle of candles and mirrors, wearing jockey shorts, a tee shirt, and socks, bound and gagged by his own hand. ...

I was nervous but determined. My letter of instructions had arrived a week ago. Today was the day. The instructions were extensive and detailed. I had rehearsed my actions and double checked that I had all necessary items. I drove to the remote location I had been given and parked my car. As expected, there was a lock box attached to a pipe stanchion next to an empty trash barrel. ...

I had been taken at sea. Our ship was rammed at night and the pirates swarmed aboard. There was no time to reach for weapons or resist in any way. I know not what happened to my shipmates for I was quickly bound and hustled aboard the attackers’ ship where I was stowed in a damp and dark hold. I was untied but attached to the wall with a shackle round my ankle. I had some movement but could not reach the hatch. I stayed there for an unknown amount of time. It was not pleasant, however they supplied me with plenty of food and water. ...

[This was originally written for a friend. I understand that some readers donʼt enjoy the first/second person present tense style of writing presented here. I tried changing it to standard first person but decided I like this one better. If you are someone who vehemently dislikes this style, send me an email and Iʼll forward you the other version.] This is a great look for you! With your heels pressed into your ass, the flesh of your calves and thighs bunches up in a most appealing manner. Your big brown eyes look up at me beseechingly. I stand and go downstairs to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. You groan into your sopping gag. ...

Karla called from downstairs at 4:00 to announce the arrival of my guest. I told her to send him up and quickly went down my mental checklist. Everything was ready, so I ran a comb through my hair one more time, swallowed my nervousness, and moved myself into Dom mode. I took a few deep breaths, and the knock came. I opened up and let him in. My goodness, I thought. Heʼs a big one. About my height but at least a hundred pounds heavier. And quite a bit younger. ...

continued from Meeting Strand After my first meeting with Strand I was busy with business and family and we were unable to get together again for several days. Finally we set a date for the day before I was to go home. At the appointed time, he arrived back at my suite. “Okay, Max,” he said. “Iʼve got an idea. I think we might like to try something I call mutual self-bondage. ...

continued from Another Date with Strand Strand came out to visit me the summer after my trip east. Ostensibly we were going to do some fishing. In actuality, if either of us got a line wet it would be a major surprise. I met him at the Amtrak station twenty miles from my property, we claimed his luggage, loaded it into my old GMC, and started up the two lane into the hills. ...

When I was a young runaway I spent a summer working at The Duke Hotel in San Franciscoʼs Tenderloin district. The hotel had new owners and they needed help. I was given a small apartment and twenty dollars a week in exchange for painting, cleaning, occasional shifts at the front desk, and various other duties. The hotelʼs clients were a varied lot including winos, hookers of both sexes, drug addicts and other assorted societal rejects. The manager was an ex-pimp named Mel. He was assisted by Karen who I assumed was an ex-working girl and by his younger brother Mike. ...

Lynda and I were on our first business trip together. She was a fortyish soccer mom type and the head of marketing. I was a few years younger and the manufacturing manager. She traveled often, I rarely, so I let her be the lead, pick out the hotel, etc. After arriving and checking in she suggested we go out for a drink. Iʼm not much of a drinker but since we flew in on a Saturday I figured it would be a nice way to spend the evening and maybe talk about our client meeting on Monday. We went to the hotel bar and I ordered my usual scotch and soda. She opted for a margarita. I sipped my drink and asked about her kids. ...

“I think it’s time,” she said. “Time? Time for what?” He was genuinely puzzled. “Time to find out if you’re as ready as you think,” she responded. He still didn’t get it, so she went on. “You were telling me how you want to spend more time tied up, right?” “Well yeah. Is that what it’s time for?” She nodded. “Yep, that’s what it’s time for.” “Well then I agree. It’s definitely time. What do you want me to do?” ...

Tomaso was a young carpenter who worked in the village. Tomasoʼs mother drank. His father drank and gambled. The debts were many and continued to grow. At last the Queen sent guards to seize the familyʼs property. Tomasoʼs father suggested that the Queen could make better use of a good carpenter than a dilapidated hovel. After some discussion, it was agreed that the Queen would pay the familyʼs debts and in exchange Tomaso would be hers. Tomaso was taken to the castle where he was locked in a cell. During the day he was well guarded as he worked in the carpentry shop. At night he was returned to his cell. ...

continues from Should’ve Locked The Door It was a hot August afternoon as he pulled up to the trailer in his dusty old GMC. He sat in the cab for a moment, looking at the trees, listening to the birds, and unwinding from the drive. He stepped down from the cab with a slight smile and began unloading. He had done this enough times that the work was second nature. He set the clothing and food items on the porch, carried the batteries to their spot at the front of the trailer and hooked them up, slid the tools under the truck, and unloaded the five 7 gallon water carriers. He climbed onto the porch and carried the items he’d left there into the trailer, stowed them in their places and coaxed the little gas refrigerator to life. ...

I am a heterosexual male with a lifelong desire to enjoy bondage games with an attractive woman. As I grow older, I have come to the sad realization that, regardless of the stories one might read on sites like this, there are precious few women who are truly into bondage, and the odds of meeting up with one are slim indeed. So it was with a great deal of interest and understanding that I read Strand Ankler’s “How I Got Myself Tied Up” series of stories relating his experiences with paid women and gay men. When my first bondage story was published, I was quite pleased that Strand was one of the first to respond. We developed an email friendship and discovered that he lives in my old hometown. Recently I was planning my first trip back in several years and we agreed to meet up. Here’s my (fictional) tale of that encounter: ...

continues from Bound in the Woods There is something about us self-bondagers. Something that makes us keep at it, even when we should know better, even after a close call. Such was the case with me. The previous day I had an exciting time self-tied to a tree, but it had come close to ending badly. Fortunately I had been able to free myself, but for a while it seemed as if I may not. I had let the moment overwhelm me and got into a spot where I could not reach my emergency escape tools (EMT scissors and a knife). I was sure it had been a lack of preparation rather than any inherent danger in the practice. All night I had remembered the delightful feelings I’d experienced while bound to the tree and my sleep had been full of erotic dreams. So of course I decided to go do it again. ...

I have been fascinated by bondage since childhood and, while I’ve had a few amazing scenes with other people, I still greatly enjoy playing by myself. I have twenty acres of secluded forest with a small travel trailer parked in the middle and this is where I chose to go for this self bondage adventure. It had been a while since my last session and I was definitely ready and was looking forward to something a little different. I decided that I would try outdoors rather than in the safety of my trailer. ...

He was floating down a city street. It was night time. There was a noirish feel to the scene. He was meeting a woman. It promised to be a good meeting. He could feel it in his loins. He had no idea who she was, where he was, even who he was. And that was fine. The way it was supposed to be. “I’ve been watching you.” His head jerked up. He stared in shocked disbelief at the woman standing in the doorway of the trailer, then started frantically working his wrists free. ...

As the room slowly swam into focus I found myself looking directly at a naked man tied to a chair. Looking down, I realized it was a mirror and that I was the naked man tied to a chair. I shook my head vigorously to clear the cobwebs and tried to remember how I got here. I was at a loss for a few minutes, and then it hit me like the hot kiss at the end of a wet fist. It was the frail. The dame with the gimlet eyes and the Grable gams. ...

He’d heard the owls before but never quite so close. This one seemed to be talking to him. Eventually he spotted her in a tree across from his cabin. She was looking directly at him, moving her head around and occasionally shrieking. As soon as he made eye contact she flew to another tree about fifty yards down the path. He followed her and, once he spotted her in the tree, she flew off to a third tree where she perched, watching him. ...