I am in the fortunate position that, whislt my wife does not enjoy or The following is a work of fiction. None of the characters is based on a real person, except insofar as all fictional characters have characteristics that can be observed in actual persons. This work is presented for your enjoyment and amusement. However, it may not be sold to anyone for any amount of money with out my express prior approval, which can be had "for a piece of the action." If you wish to distribute this piece for free, I would still appreciate being contacted for prior approval.

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Adventures In Self Discipline

My name is John. I am married, white, 45, 6 feet tall, 200 lbs., fair-haired, good looking, bi-sexual, and submissive. I love my wife dearly, so because my wife is not into D&S and I have no desire to be unfaithful to her or to our marriage, I engage only in what I call Self Discipline. To the extent that I have involved other people in my activity, that involvement has only been under two conditions: their informed, willing consent; and with the understanding that there will be no sexual intercourse between us. Mostly, I have involved other people as safeties for me: someone to check on me during some Bondage activity I have engaged in and release me if I have gotten into some sort of fix I can't get out of.

Additionally, I have done some e-mail D&S, where I have been Top as well as Bottom. However, as a rule, I find e-mail uninspiring. Some of the commands I have gotten have been plainly ridiculous, thought up by someone who has no concept of what can be done in the real world, and some of the people I have allegedly topped lack not only imagination but too often integrity.

You see, I do what I say I will do, even if-especially if-the only person who will ever know anything about it is me. Let me give you an example.

One of my favorite activities is to play some game on my computer (let's say solitaire). Sometimes I set a target score or accomplishment, like running the deck in 10 attempts or scoring a high game. If I fail, I punish myself. (Other times, I "punish" myself by deciding before hand that if I don't accomplish some objective, I cannot discipline myself for some specified period of time). I don't know if any of this makes sense to you, but it makes sense to me. Not only do I have the element of chance in whether or not an activity will happen, I also create an environment wherein I am either being punished or rewarded-depending on my mood-rather than just deciding to try something. Oh, I also decide what discipline I will undergo before hand, so I can't wimp out. Sometimes it sharpens my wits to know that if I don't beat the computer at Chess, I will face a rather painful or humiliating ordeal.

Yesterday, around 3 p.m., I felt the need to go to the bathroom. Rather than just go, I decided to play some solitaire on the computer. I gave myself ten tries to run the deck; if I didn't succeed, I couldn't go until I got home. I set this up knowing that I could not leave work until 4:30, and the trip home is half an hour. So, I knew that I was delaying my relief for at least two hours if I didn't win. Since I really had to pee, this wait would be a good test. The humiliation of wetting myself, either at the office or in the car on the way home, was not to be endured, so I knew I was committing myself to a painful time if I lost.

Well, I lost. I don't think I even came close to running the deck. There was nothing for me to do but endure. It isn't easy to sit at your desk and do real work when your bladder is demanding that you empty it. About 4:15 my boss walked in and asked me about the project I'm working on. I couldn't tell if he could sense my discomfort or just thought I was anxious to leave for home, but he kept me fifteen minutes past 4:30, in part, I suspect because I was having a hard time concentrating on his questions enough to give him the answers he needed. So that added to my problem.

By the time I got away, I was seriously concerned that I couldn't make it home before I had to go! I admit that I thought about just giving in or even waiting till five and going at work, but I couldn't do that. I had made a bet and lost; a man of honor and integrity honors his commitments. I walked painfully to my car and drove home. Of course, traffic was worse than usual, or so it seemed, and I had to concentrate both on the road and on my bladder control if I didn't want to have more than one kind of accident.

Fortunately, I made it home, where I virtually ran to the bathroom, ignoring my wife, so great was my need. I doubt that my wife suspected anything other than a surprise biological urge had caught me. I spent a long time in the bathroom; I can't estimate how much liquid I had to dump, but it seemed to go on forever!

Now that's a rather tame example of what I do for fun. I just wanted to set the scene and give you an example of what I mean by self-discipline. I do use bondage frequently in my activities, and I often enjoy it if I have truly fixed things so that I can't get loose either easily or at all (that's were having someone else involved helps), but for some of the things I like to do, I find that the one quality I need most is self-discipline, in the usual sense of the word, when I am performing self-discipline, in the unusual sense of the word (if you know what I mean).

If you've gotten this far in my tale, I think you're entitled to something a little spicier than what you've read so far-if only to justify the disclaimer at the top of this file. So I'd like to tell you one of my more embarrassing episodes.

It was a warm summer evening several years back, and I was home alone for the evening. My wife was out of town on business, and, since the kids are grown and gone now, I was alone, with time on my hands for the night. So I decided to have some fun.

After dinner, I took two keys out to the back of our city lot and tied them to a low branch of a tree at the back of the lot. One of the keys was to the house; the other key was to a set of handcuffs. Then I went back inside-it was about six-thirty and still quite light out and would remain so until around nine or so-stripped and prepared to place myself in some restrictive bondage and discipline for the evening. My plan was a simple one. First, I tied my feet together with some strong rope so that the only way I could get around was to hop. Then I took a vibrating butt plug, lubricated it just enough so that I could get it in me easily but not so much that I would have trouble keeping it in. Next, I put a chain dog collar-the kind called a choker collar-around my neck.

I tied a long ribbon around my balls and the base of my cock and ran the ribbon up my back, through my ass crack, and tied it to the choker at the base of my neck. To add a little discomfort, both immediately and for later, I took two clothespins that were tied together with twine that separated them about 18 inches, added a two pound weight to the twine midway between the two clothespins, and attached each clothespin to a nipple. Finally, I cuffed my hands behind my back. As the second cuff clicked into place, I knew I was committed to over two hours of bondage. I could not release myself until I had hopped out to the tree in the back yard and retrieved the keys.

Still, I had the freedom of the house. I could go anywhere I wanted, since I had made sure that all the drapes were closed first, but I had to hop or take exceedingly small, mincing steps. Any movement, of course, caused pain to my nipples, but hopping was worse than mincing, because the weight moved more, causing the clothespins to pull on my nipples. Of course the clothespins, the nakedness, the vibrator, and the bondage all conspired to give me a good, solid hard-on about which I could do nothing as long as my hands were secured behind my back.

Yes, I could go outside at any time to retrieve the keys, but until it got dark I didn't feel that I would be safe from the eyes of my neighbors, and I didn't, and still don't, want to be discovered. So I wandered about the house a bit before finally settling down on the living room couch to wait for darkness. It was pretty boring even in my predicament. One thing I realized-I was still fairly new at strict self-bondage-was that if anything went wrong, I had no way to get released. I had no safety plan. I thought about getting up once, but then I thought about what would happen if I fell and hurt myself so that I couldn't get outside to those keys, and that thought kept me on the couch until I could go outside.

I spent most of the rest of the time trying to get comfortable and trying not to think of my nipples, which within a half an hour had become most uncomfortable and increasingly so with each passing minute. Two hours was certainly going to be plenty for them!

By nine-fifteen I had decided that it was dark enough to risk going outside. I had put a house key out with the handcuff keys because our doors are self-locking, and I planned to close the back door when I went out.

Having decided that I had had enough, I got up from the couch and started for the back door. After I finally got upright from the couch-no small feat, I discovered with my hands and feet secured as they were-I had to make my way slowly, and painfully, through the dining room and the kitchen to reach the door. It took at least ten minutes to make that journey walking with one to two inch "strides", if I can call them that. I had to rest once I reached the back door, because that short trip was very tiring in my condition.

While I rested, I thought about the rest of the journey. I had to open the door, hop down a six inch drop to the garage floor, close the back door, and travel a twisting course diagonally to the far corner of the yard to get to the tree and the keys. It was a trip about twice as long as the one I had just made over uneven terrain, including a hill, a patch of gravel six feet wide that I could not avoid, and around the hot tub and some other bushes. There was the added challenge that, as I left the relative safety of the garage, I would be exposed to the neighbors back yard, to my left, for as long as it took me to get around the hot tub. Once I turned that corner, I would be sheltered from view by all the shrubs my wife had planted in the back to give our yard privacy from the other houses in the development.

Realizing that I probably had half an hour's hard work ahead of me, I decided it was time to go. As I turned around so that I could grab the door know, I saw by the clock that it was 9:35.

Opening a door with your back turned to it and having to mince your way out of its way is a task I also hadn't thought about. I don't know how long that took, but it seemed like a long time. Once the door was open, I maneuvered myself so that I was at the edge of the door sill with the door knob securely in my hands. As I jumped down, I would both close the door and have some way to keep myself from falling. Only after I had safely negotiated the sill, and locked the door behind me, did I realize that I had left the garage door down. (I had taken the keys out and returned by a different door earlier in the evening).

Opening the garage door posed a problem I had not prepared for. Our garage door has an opener, otherwise the task would have been impossible, but when you activate the door a bright light illuminates the garage, and it stays on for five minutes! No one could see in unless they came into our drive, but I had not expected to have any bright lights shining on me. Still, what could I do? I had to get to that key. I was hurting in lots of places, especially my nipples, but my butt was also sore, as were my feet, and I knew that nothing was going to get any better till I got to those keys. Then I could also untie my feet and walk more comfortably back to the house.

It was then that I noticed that my neighbors' back light was on! It is a very bright light that both my wife and I have complained to each other about. Although it is over a hundred feet from our property, I believe I could read the fine print on a contract by it, it's that bright. The light being on also made me wonder if they were outside, it being a comfortable night, so I minced over to the windows in the garage door to get a look at what I could see.

Their garage door was up, and the garage appeared empty, but I couldn't decide if that was good news or not. When had they left? How long would they be gone? What should I do: wait till they came back, or take a chance that I could at least get to a place where they couldn't see me before they came back? My aching nipples demanded that I take a chance, so I minced my way back to where the garage door switch is located, next to the back door. The only way I had to push it was with my forehead, which I did and then quickly ducked down behind the car to wait for the door to come up and the light to go off.

It was a long five minutes waiting for the light to go off, and during that time I learned something I should have known. It had been a rainy, humid summer. The air in the garage quickly became thick with insects attracted to the light in the garage and other kinds of insects as well, hungry mosquitoes who were attracted to a sweating, naked, bound man as much as the moths were attracted to the lights. As I squatted by the car, wishing the light would hurry up and go out, I realized that there was not enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes off me once I got out into the open. Of course, all these added complications, which I could have anticipated but did not, also added to the excitement I felt, even with the pain. My cock was now rock hard, which the mosquitoes seemed to really appreciate.

As I squatted there waiting on the light, I decided to add one additional task to my list as punishment for all of the little details I had not thought about: before I could untie my feet and return to the house I decided that I had to masturbate in the yard and lick my cum off of my fingers. Of course, the masturbation wasn't really punishment, but the licking was. I had tried that in the past, and I didn't particularly care for the taste of my cum; it is both salty and sour. But, having made the decision, I knew I would carry it out.

Finally, the light went out overhead, but the mosquitoes felt no need to go back on patrol. They had found a feast and were intent on enjoying it. There was little I could do to stop them. Normally, I'm one of those people who attracts mosquitoes; I always seem to have been. But when I'm hot and sweaty, like now, it seems a hundred times worse.

Carefully, I stood back up. When I had squatted down behind the car, the twine and the weight had found their way around and beneath my cock and balls, and I had to be careful to stand in such a way as to not hook the string connected to my nipples beneath my cock, causing the clothespins to be viciously pulled from my nipples. Sure I wanted the clothespins off, but carefully. They were going to hurt badly enough as it was.

After I was erect, I listened for night sounds, but I heard no one close by. What I heard mostly was the awful buzzing of the mosquitoes. I was going to look like a bad case of measles before the night was out, I knew.

Slowly, I minced my way to the door. I had no idea what time it was. Soon, I was at the threshold of the garage, where I stopped to look around by the neighbors' brilliant light. When I was satisfied that it was a safe as it was going to be, and with a silent prayer that the neighbors would not come home soon, I started my slow, painful trek to the far corner of the yard. The moving around I had already done had accomplished two things. First, I had loosened the bonds enough that I now had a full six inches of play! My stride was three times longer than it had been. Second, I had rubbed my ankles pretty raw in the process. I was going to have to figure out a better way next time. Oh yes, I already knew that there would be a next time. For all the grief I was having, I was also exhilarated beyond description. This had turned out to be a true Bondage experience, and the unexpected challenges had added the necessary spice to what had been, in the house, a rather mundane session.

The gravel was, of course, rough and uneven, full of pointed rocks that made my passage painful and slow. Several times while I was still in the exposed part of my trip, I thought I heard the sound of a car coming up our shared drive. Fortunately, each time I was wrong. But, just as I reached the corner of the hot tub, maybe five feet from the relative safety of the cover afforded by turning it and putting some bushes between me and their line of sight, I heard their car in the drive. Ignoring the pain involved, I hopped three times to get to the corner and twice to get around it. I barely managed to get out of sight as they pulled into their driveway.

I stopped as still as I could, the only movement I made the heavy breathing of my exertions. Sweat poured off of me as I waited for them to go in and, hopefully, turn that cursed light off.

They did go in, and I wasn't discovered, except as I had already been discovered by those damnable mosquitoes who continued to feed on me. Of course, they seemed to pay particular attention, it seemed to me, to my blood engorged cock.

I continued my slow progress across the lawn. The pain in my nipples seemed sharper than before. I decided it was because of the hopping I had felt compelled to do to get around that corner I had caused the weight to jerk the clothespins, but it was too dark to see anything.

Finally, I made it to my tree. It was so dark that I had to fumble around with my back turned to the tree for several minutes before I found the keys with my fingers. Then I had to untie the string, being careful not to drop the keys! Then I had them free and fumbled some more before I got the right key in the handcuff lock and heard, and felt!, the satisfying click of the cuffs opening.

After spending a couple of moments in a futile attempt to swat mosquitoes away, I decided to just get it over with. I dropped to my knees, set the keys and cuffs beside me and quickly jacked off. Though I was extremely excited, it seemed to take forever to cum, and when I did, I was surprised that my orgasm wasn't more powerful. But I did cum, and I think I caught it all in my cupped hand. I know I licked enough cum off of my hands and fingers. It still tasted awful; a fitting punishment for my lack of attention to details.

As quickly as I could, I untied my feet and gathered up the cuffs and keys, leaving my vibrating butt plug in place till I could untie the ribbon from my balls and headed back to the garage and the house. The trip out had taken forever it seemed, but the trip back was done in uneventful seconds. Once in the garage, I closed it, not fearing discovery at this late date, turned off the light and unlocked the door and went back inside.

It was 10:20.

I had been outside forty-five minutes. I untied the ribbom, removed the butt plug and the collar and headed for a well-deserved shower. I was ecstatic that I had pulled it off, and I had a grand time doing it.

Blackhawk8@aol.com