By Leviticus




I’ve heard that the city has a million naked stories, or something like that.  I know that the Internet does in a more literal sense.  I know because I’ve written a few of them myself.


My name is Tyler Herup, or Ty for short, reporter for the Bondage Weekly Plus, an Internet rag exclusively for the devotees of deviant diversions, or so my editor the legendary Susanna Boundalot, or SB as the industry knows her, is fond of saying.  Okay, I lied, she never actually said it, but it makes a good story and it ever fails to get a chuckle out of my interview subjects.


My specialty is the roving reporter thing: flying around the country and occasionally out of it in order to bring back accounts of what is new and weird in the fetish world.  I’ve interviewed porn stars doing bondage movies, equine lovers doing the pony thing, dungeon designers and dungeon users and even married couples attempting to live life as one big scene.


You’d think that the next thing I was going to say is that I’ve seen it all; but believe me I continue to be surprised at the inventive ways human beings devise to restrain, train and torture each other, and that’s just in the kinky world of BDSM!  For instance, let me tell you about this couple I interviewed just the other day for inclusion in our “So You Think You’re a Lifestyler” issue.


Now you wouldn’t think that Kansas is a hotbed of sexual perversion, and you’d be right for the most part.  But out away from the cities where humans rarely go unless they are riding farm equipment, I found Sam and Ermintrude.  Not their real names naturally, although Sam really did call his wife Ermintrude all during the time I was there.  A pet name as I understood it, which as you know means a lot more than it does to regular folk.


Sam and E were both in their late thirties, had been married for close to ten years, and lived in a farmhouse in the middle of a fairly well wooded grove of trees.  They didn’t farm; Sam worked an office job in the nearby town, while E stayed at home.  She had to, for she was literally chained to it.


What sent me to Kansas was a letter from the couple to our offices in Salt Lake City claiming to be the ultimate bondage lifestyle couple.  The magazine had opened up submissions for the article several months before and one of my ongoing tasks was to check out each claim that passed our Editor’s scrutiny.  Sam and E certainly did that.


Their claim was that ever since they moved out to their farmhouse five years earlier, E had never again worn clothing of any sort and she’d always been in some sort of restrictive bondage.  Quite a claim I thought, and so did SB, so off I went to Kansas.


When I finally found the place, after an hour lost on various country roads, what I saw was a fairly well kept two-story house, maybe forty years old, next to a small barn and apple silo.  It was all completely surrounded by trees that did a very good job of screening out the rest of the world, so I easily believed that sexual games could be played here with no one else the wiser.  It was a good start I thought.


Sam met me as I pulled in, dressed in slacks, shirt and tie, unusual attire for the location, I thought.  But then I was dressed in a similar fashion, for I had an image to keep up.  We greeted each other with a handshake and I found the man to be immediately the personable kind of chap that I knew did well as the dominant partner in these relationships.  He was clear eyed, clear headed, and had that confidence common to his kind of personality.


“Glad they sent someone out!” he said to me as he led me back to the house.  “I’ve read your stuff and you do good work!”


Well, I’m always open to flattery.  Who isn’t?  Still, I had a job to do and was eager to get on with it.  “Not at all,” I replied.  “It’s what I do.  But you do have to understand that we need to verify all our stories.”


“Fine by us!  It’ll be fun to get a little recognition in your magazine.  But we’d rather keep our real names out of it.”


I had to chuckle.  “Not a problem.  Except to the lawyers and accountants not even the staff use their real names.  You don’t really think I was christened Ty Herup, do you?” 


Actually Tyler was my real name, the surname an affectation for the magazine, sorry ladies.


We had a good laugh and went into the house, and that was when I first saw E.  She was kneeling on a rug in the living room, quite nude, except for a band of shiny metal around her neck to which a chain was attached.  The chain led straight down to the floor anchoring her to a ring installed for that purpose.  She looked lovely.


“This is Ermintrude,” Sam said quite unnecessarily. 


Now, years of roving reporting had taught me several things, one of which was to never burst the bubble of the person I was interviewing.  That meant learning and respecting the rules of the house and never interfering with what I saw.  I know of one young reporter who on one of his first assignments called the police on what he thought was a case of kidnapping done right in front of him.  It turned out that the “victim” and the “kidnapper” were lovers and often acted out this role play scenario.  Our one exception to this rule is when we suspect underage play, or any other obviously illegal activity.  The reason I mention this is because it can become very awkward talking to a submissive as an equal when their preference and established role is something completely different.  So rather than address E directly I instead turned to Sam, hoping to cue off him.  “She’s lovely,” I told him, making him smile.


“I couldn’t live without her.  Don’t be afraid to talk to her and ask her anything you want.  We’re quite open here as you can see.”


I nodded, relieved that was the case, and offered greetings to the submissive on the floor.  She smiled a gorgeous smile and replied in a husky voice that she was glad to meet me.  I fell in lust right on the spot.  Too bad I was professionally bound not to do anything about it.


“You here just for the day?” Sam asked me.


“Nope, two or three days, so I can get an in-depth perspective of your daily lives,” I replied.


“Well you’re not staying in town I hope; we have plenty of room here!”


I was actually counting on the invitation and wasn’t surprised he offered it.  In my travels I have found that people involved in BDSM to be better hosts than most, probably because they are so eager so show off their personal variations on living the lifestyle.  I fully intend to write an article about it some day.


So I accepted the offer to stay and after Sam released E she showed me to their spare room before going back to the car for my luggage.


Now, this is where a lot of couples have messed up in the past, and fully half the so-called lifestylers I had gone to see for this particular article were no exception.  Sure the submissive was bound when I first got there, but when it came time for them to actually go do something more often than not their bondage was completely removed.  Of course, many argued that their collars, when they wore them, were bondage and so they counted.  And others spoke of the submissive’s nudity; when they were nude it was also counted as bondage or at least a part of the lifestyle.  But folks, for us at the BWP, bondage is defined like this: Devices or non-standard clothing designed to prevent the wearer from maintaining a complete range of motion or escape from a specific location. 

So simple nudity and/or a collar just don’t do it.


Sam didn’t disappoint.  Before releasing his wife from the floor ring he first hobbled her ankles with a six-inch chain and then her wrists.  Yet when she was allowed to get up and walk she moved with an economy of grace that showed that she was well practiced in getting around like that.  He left the chain attached to her collar to hang between her breasts, and the end was just the right length to slap gently at her loins.


E was a pleasure to watch like that, let me tell you.


My room was on the second floor and after unpacking a few things I went back downstairs.  Sam was waiting for me and as we watched E serve us drinks and go back to her regular housework, I started my interview.


Sam’s and E’s story was quite remarkable.  Shortly after they got married Sam confessed his kink to his new bride during a night of reconciliation after their first married fight.  Curious, and feeling a little guilty because of the fight, E let him tie her up for the very first time after which he made passionate love to her.  It was the beginning of a series of sexual games that stimulated their sex life and slowly defined their roles in their marriage.  But living in the city had its problems and they could never really let go the way they wanted.  That was until Sam’s firm decided to move him out here.  Sam saw an opportunity and took it, foregoing the apartment in town that the firm had found for the both of them in favor of the risky prospect of buying their own home out in the country.  He had almost given up when this house had suddenly presented itself on the market.  Sam quickly snatched it up and arranged for the move.


E’s first look at the place didn’t come until the move itself, and on that very day her life changed for the good.  You see, when they arrived by car after the truck with all their belongings had come and gone, Sam stopped the car out on the highway just before turning onto the long driveway that led onto their new property.


“Why did we stop, are we here?” E had asked him.


“Do you love me?” Sam asked her seriously.


“Of course, silly, what a question!” she replied with a laugh.


“Get out of the car,” he ordered.


Talking to E later about this, I got her side of the story too.  She told me that she recognized Sam’s command voice in the order, and wondered what he was up to.  But she did as he asked, getting out at the head of the driveway.


Sam got out too and they stood together on the quiet country road.  “Take off your clothes,” he said.


It was a testament of her trust in the man that she did as he asked, although she confessed to me that she was very nervous about doing it out in the open like that.  She was even more concerned, yet excited, when he put her clothes in the trunk and returned to her with a long chain attached to a pair of handcuffs.  The cuffs went on her wrists and the other end of the chain was attached to the bumper.


“What are you doing?” she asked him, seeing all of this.


“Starting our new life together,” was his answer, and he climbed back into the car and got it moving again.


E was now helpless to do anything but follow, and she was forced to jog slowly along the driveway behind their car until they reached the house hidden in the trees.  At that time E was a little miffed at being introduced to their new home like this, naked and bound, but now both she and Sam were proud of the fact that her first time on the property happened the way it did.


And so it began, with E a confused, yet somewhat willing participant in Sam’s new plans.  She spent that first day naked and either attached to a long chain locked to something or in handcuffs; then the next day, and then the next.  She began to ask when she would be allowed to dress, for she knew that while the game was fun that she would eventually have to get back to real life.  But each day that passed took her further and further away from the life she called real, and she soon realized that Sam had no intention of ever letting her dress or be free again.


I asked E what she thought of her husband’s unconventional way of bringing about this lifestyle change and she told me that at the time she was a little resentful, a little sad.  The plan was that she would get a job of her own and try to make new friends.  But as time went by and Sam never relented, she found that she really didn’t have a need to leave the property for anything after all.  She had no close family to keep in contact with, no obligations to be anyplace other than where she was.  So naked and bound she stayed and her love for her husband grew.


When I asked if she was ever lonely here with only Sam for company, I was surprised to find out that E wasn’t as isolated as I’d thought.  She did eventually find a job, working for Sam’s firm on a telecommuting basis, logging in via their computer for simple data entry work.  Their computer also provided her with a large group of friends, all online of course, but as emotionally satisfying as if they were there in the flesh.  There were even people in her real life who knew of their odd lifestyle: Sam’s boss for one, a couple of their neighbors, the delivery clerk from the local supermarket who brought their groceries out each week, and a few others.  All were sworn to secrecy, and could be trusted I was told.


Of course I didn’t find out all of this right away.  Like I said I was there for several days and while there I saw how they managed to live.  In the house E’s regular bondage was the aforementioned hobbles, but outside the house I saw Sam bind E in a number of different ways depending on what they were doing.  When gardening, E’s arms were strapped behind her in a single glove and she was very adept at handling her custom-designed tools with either her mouth or her feet.  When simply relaxing her bondage was a lot stricter and her all-over tan was the product of being strapped spread eagle into a frame that rotated her like a chicken on a spit.  In fact, over the five years they had lived there Sam had built a number of interesting bondage devices, most of which lived in the apple silo that had been converted into their playroom/dungeon.  I saw cages, racks, benches, tables and other assorted items that would have made any bondage lover gibber with delight.  And Sam told me of the countless hours E had spent in each of them over the years.


While I was there he put her into what could only be called a spanking machine, and he confessed that only recently had they begun exploring pain play.  E took her swipes without any real show of pleasure, so I doubt that they will be exploring it for long, but I saw that she was at least willing to try anything her husband suggested.


One of my favorite moments though, during my stay with Sam and E, was the second night I was there.  It was a warm night and the sky was clear, showing more stars than I was used to.  It was also damn humid and I said as much to Sam who was with me on the porch while E did the dishes inside.


“A good night for a swim,” he said, “do you fancy one?”


“I didn’t know you had a pool,” I said with a chuckle.


“We don’t, but there is a swimming hole we go to sometimes about three quarters of a mile away.  Tonight would be a good night for it.”


This gave me pause.  “I thought E never left the property!”


“E never wears clothes or gets out of her bondage,” Sam replied, “but she does get to have these little outings as a treat from time to time.  We’ll go tonight.”


So we did, but not before E was properly outfitted.  No clothes of course, but Sam made mention that he had to be especially careful that his wife had no opportunity to escape, which made her roll her eyes in amusement for it was all role play.  Still, the way she had to travel made sure that escape would have been problematic to say the least.  Starting at her feet, her ankles were locked into a two-foot aluminum spreader bar to which a chain was attached.  The chain ran up to the small of her back where another two-foot spreader bar was attached.  Her wrists were locked to the ends of the bar via some pretty solid-looking manacles.  Another chain held the bar to her waist before passing up between her breasts and running through a loop in her collar, where it became her leash.  Straps were passed over her shoulders and on her back was attached a small cooler with beer and snacks.  Over this was another bag with a blanket and towels and everything else we might need while there.  She had been turned into a pack animal.  The final bit of bondage however was the blindfold and gag, and Sam made an interesting comment about that.  “I’ve never taken her out anywhere without the blindfold,” he told me.  “She has seen the swimming hole and a couple of other places, but I doubt very much that she knows how to get there.  Beyond the trees that surround the house, E would be quite lost.


E since confirmed that, and said it was just one more way that her husband had of keeping her caged here, and that remark was the only indication I got that life for her wasn’t a hundred percent what she wanted.


So, off we went to the swimming hole in the dead of night.  Sam led the way with a completely blind E following along, trusting her leash commands.  I came last, marveling at what I saw.  I was suitably impressed.  We walked along a dirt path for what Sam told me later was more than a mile as he twisted and turned to confuse E about where they were going, along side fields and across one county highway.  The pond itself was bordered by trees on one side but open on the other, and was in fact the remains of a turn of the century gravel pit, now filled with water.  This meant the place had what passed for a real sandy beach and man, that water felt good.  But even here Sam didn’t let E totally out of her bondage.  He took off her blindfold, gag and chains, but left the spreader bars between her wrists and ankles and to my amazement E was able to swim like that.  This was beyond anything else they had shown me; and it convinced me that this couple was on the up and up.  They certainly lived the lifestyle alright, and I was ready to tell SB all about them.


But there was still one question that I needed an answer for, something I ask almost all my subjects, and as Sam and I lay looking at the stars while E paddled by herself in the water, I asked him.


“Why do you do it?”


He took his time in answering, but when he did what he said seemed right.  “It makes us happy.”


When it came time to leave we parted as friends, and E gave me a big kiss goodbye while Sam just shook my hand.  I tell you, it was no chore looking at the beautiful Ermintrude those three days and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted.  But Sam and E were decent folk and as I said, I was professionally bound not to go down that road.


Sad as I was to leave though, I was glad to get back to the office, and I wasted no time typing up my article and putting a copy on the boss’s desk.  Our Commander in Chief gave me one of her trademark wicked smiles and took her time reading my copy before saying a word.


“The real deal?” she asked.


“As real as it gets, SB,” I replied.


“Good, then they make the issue.  Good work, Ty.”


I grinned and undid my pants, dropping them to the floor.  “Great!  Now you can get this thing off me, I have a three day weekend coming!”


SB raised an eyebrow and stared at the chastity belt she had me wear whenever I was out on assignment, the belt that kept me “professionally bound” and away from any temptation.  SB had the only keys to the belt, something she required of all us roving reporters in order to maintain the integrity of the magazine, and it was a hell of an incentive to get the job done, let me tell you!  But instead of reaching for the keys we all knew she kept on a chain around her neck, she picked up another folder and handed it to me with a smile.


“Sorry, Ty, but I need you to fly to Barbados to take a look at a new line of bondage lingerie.  But it should only take you a day for that one, so you can have the next three days off and stay down there before coming back, okay?”


“Three days in Barbados where some of the most beautiful women in the world could go around naked pretty much wherever they choose, with me locked into a chastity belt!  You’re kidding, right?” I asked her.


Her smile told me otherwise.


Oh well, such is the life of a roving reporter for the Bondage Weekly Plus.


This is Tyler Herup, signing off until next time.