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At the urging of my colleagues, I’m penning this journal about my journey into the world of bondage and power. My name is Edward Laste, and this is my tale that started precisely twenty years ago today.
I was the only child of a wealthy family and wanted for nothing as I grew up, except to maybe see my parents more than twice a year. Things grew exceptionally difficult once mother died, and dad threw himself completely into his work.
I grew up in boarding schools and summer camps after that, and I went four years without seeing a single family member once, including father. Thinking back on it I should’ve been bitter but I wasn’t; I’d found friends that kept me both sane and reasonably content.
I was fourteen years old when I tied up a girl for the first time, although it happened as a simple prank my friends and I played on a girl from the neighboring camp during the summer break before my high school years. It took years to figure out how much it truly affected me, but that was where it all started.
By sixteen I’d amassed a huge collection of bondage porn off the internet and I studied it every night before going to bed. Yes, that’s a polite euphemism for saying I jacked off a lot back then. What can I say? I was a horny teenager and I was fascinated by the subject.
I’d had girlfriends in high school like every other boy my age, but it wasn’t until I was eighteen and went to college that I got a chance to have my first sexual experience with a girl in bondage. Her name was Shelly, and one night she said she wanted to experiment with it, so who was I to argue? I eagerly jumped at the chance.
In retrospect, I think I scared her off with my wide range of knowledge (yet lack of any real experience) on the subject. I tied her twenty ways from Sunday, probably a little rougher than was wise, and fucked her three times that night... plus I made her suck my dick twice.
It was the best night of my life to date, and she seemed to enjoy it immensely at the time but she never returned my phone calls after that one encounter. I was a little bitter over it, but what can a guy do?
Father remarried during the semester break and I flew to Monaco for the ceremony. He seemed surprised to see me there... once he finally figured out who I was, of course. My new step-mother looked like a Barbie doll and had an IQ lower than her bust size, but they seemed to be happy with each other, so I was polite and made all of the appropriate responses.
I apparently had a new step-sister as well, but she didn’t attend the wedding so I had no clue what she even looked like. Despite the lavish ceremony and party afterwards, I felt out of place and had a miserable time. I guzzled champagne that cost a thousand dollars a bottle until I puked in the courtyard water fountain.
Perhaps he was feeling generous or maybe he just felt guilty about ignoring me for so long, but a week after I returned home I found a new Maserati in my driveway and was told he bought me a house near campus that would be renovated within a few days. I invited my two best friends to stay with me and life was good for a while.
Brandon Billings was the unofficial leader of our group, and he made our college years fun. He planned our parties, organized our road trips, and kept the liquor cabinet full. He also had an uncanny knack of getting girls to come to our parties, and I think he bought his condoms by the truckload.
Jerry Crudo wasn’t nearly as outgoing as Brandon, but he never backed down from a challenge and was always the last person to crash at the end of a party. He was also the smartest one out of us and didn’t mind if we copied his school work. As I said earlier, life was good back then.
One day his computer died and when he went to borrow mine, he found my massive archive of bondage and BDSM porn. I thought I was going to die from embarrassment when I walked in and saw him browsing through it, but I found out he had a similar interest in bondage, and so did Brandon.
It felt, I imagine, like someone coming out of the closet when we sat down and talked about it. It was awkward as all hell, but not needing to keep it a deep dark secret any more, we opened up a whole new world of possibilities for us.
We converted the upstairs loft from our living room into our first dungeon. I suppose the dark, dank basement might’ve been more fitting, but we used that for our workroom instead, since Jerry did some welding and steelwork down there where he couldn’t set the floor on fire.
He made shackles, manacles, bondage frames, and all manner of weird interlocking methods of restraint. He also did excellent woodwork and made a pillory, stocks, St. Andrew’s cross, bondage chairs and a variety of benches.
Brandon worked with leather and made most of our restraints himself. He started with simple belts and cuffs, but quickly became proficient with the trickier items like armbinders, and he even made a straitjacket.
My hobby was electronics and I had more amazing ideas than I could ever make in a single lifetime. I started off by making simple sex toys once I learned how easy alginate molding was, and I came up with a way to improve both the strength and life of the vibrator motors.
I started integrating wireless controllers and variable speed drives into them, getting fancier and more complex with each new creation. My crowning achievement was when I built my first printed circuit board and biometric feedback system into one.
Using temperature, heart rate, oxygen saturation, and even humidity levels, I was able to devise an almost foolproof system for playing with a girl and keeping her on the edge of an orgasm almost indefinitely.
Of course, I wasn’t very good at miniaturization back then so my creation would’ve been a tight fit in an elephant’s cunt, but it was a start.
We had a dungeon full of equipment now, about two cows worth of leather restraints, dozens of simpler buzzing toys, endless rolls of chains, and probably fifty miles of rope. What we didn’t have was a fucking clue what we were doing.
There was no shortage of college girls who were willing to let us ‘practice our art’ since we offered two grand for an evening’s session, but my earlier failure with Shelly kept coming back to haunt me. Maybe I was just an overachiever, but I wanted to either do this right or not at all.
I started making plans to rectify the situation, but all my plans went out the window before I could implement any of them. Alfred, father’s butler, showed up at my door to tell me in person that my parents were killed in a boating accident near Costa Rica. (His real name was Irving, but I always called him Alfred after reading a certain comic book)
If I thought his wedding was depressing, you should have seen his funeral. There were hundreds of foreign dignitaries and ambassadors in attendance, as well as anyone who had even a drop of family blood in their veins, just in case they might have been left a bequest in his will.
When the will was read and they found every thin dime was left to me, it was the last I ever saw of them. I decided to finish the school year before moving back home, and buried myself in both my electronic and bondage hobbies.
Graduation was more of a chore to be endured than a reason to celebrate, but I went through the motions before packing up my stuff. It was time to go home, but it wasn’t all bad; I had a plan on how I could fix things and perhaps become truly happy.