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.