The Gentleman's Confession

Originally published in "The Discerning Gentleman's Weekly"

Volume IX, number 20

Issue dated April 8th 1896

*

I wonder, my friend, have you ever been bound?

It is a marvellously liberating experience, with much to recommend it. Oh yes, I can well predict how you may be gazing at this page askance, wondering if these lines can possibly be written by the same upstanding Gentleman who composed the previous entries, but I can assure you that they are.

And I am most earnest in my claim, I can well assure you. To be bound is a wonderful thing, because it lifts the souls and calms the mind. It removes from the conscience any sense that you may be responsible for your own actions, for when you are held fast by the most secure of bonds, you are capable of undertaking no actions at all of your own volition. Things can only be done to you, rather than by you, and you are not answerable for that.

No, once I was in her lair and secured in my bonds, it was all because of her. That beautiful, enigmatic, quite addictive Young Lady and her commanding and controlling ways.

I do not suppose that you imagined for one moment I would not have succumbed to the temptation and obeyed her command to attend her residence upon the Wednesday of the following week? No, of course not. You know too much about me and my foolish ways by now. You know how weak I am, and how easily commanded by the beauty of the flesh and the dominion of the mind.

So for all of my black moods, for all of my wrestling with what was left of my morality, and for all of the pain and suffering my unspoken depression and upset inflicted upon poor Annabel and my colleagues at the bank, I knew in my heart of hearts that there was never the slightest doubt as to what I should do when Wednesday evening came.

I had to see more of the Young Lady. I had to attend for the punishment I was aware that I fully deserved. It was a compulsion, and when it came down to the matter of it, I knew that I had no choice but to obey.

On this occasion it was the Colonel's house I was required to avoid when travelling to Maple Street, so I ensured the cab I took from the bank brought me to the far end of the street, enabling me to walk to the fateful number twenty-two without needing to pass the house of my good friend and take the slightest risk, however small, of discovery.

Even as I ascended the steps to her doorway, a voice inside of my mind was insisting to me that I still had the opportunity turn and flee, that even with all that had happened thus far I did not need to go inside and to see her. But the voice was a quiet one, quieter still now each time I have seen her.

The door was ajar, just as it had been upon my last visit there. I pushed it open with my free hand -- the left was clutching a thick sheaf of bank papers, and correspondence between ourselves and her solicitors, all confirming that she was indeed entitled to the inheritance to which she had made claim. She was very soon to be a Lady of some not inconsiderable wealth, but I thought nothing of that as I opened the door and stepped into the again dimly-lit hallway.

As upon my previous visit, she stood in the shadows at the end of the hallway, by the doorway past which I had so thoroughly shamed myself. Even that did not come instantly to mind on this occasion, however -- for the appearance of the Young Lady was quite the most mesmerising thing about the place.

Her hair was on this particular occasion tied tightly back, which leant her a slightly more mature aspect. Her shoulders were shockingly naked, as she wore only a very tight black leather corset, which left very little indeed to the imagination in regards to her décolletage. It accentuated her perfect, feminine shape, but was not half so eye-catching as the skirt she wore.

For it was quite unlike any other garment I had ever seen a Lady, or a female of any kind, wear. It was a black leather skirt, tight to her hips and so indecently short as to be of little practical use in preserving her modesty at all -- why, I swear to you, as God's honest truth, it came down to at the very best two inches below the knee. Two inches!

To complement this she wore a pair of black boots new to my eyes, but similar to the pair I had so worshipped on a previous occasion. This particular pair had more sharply pointed toes, a higher heel at the back and came slightly less high up her leg, leaving a great expanse of quite indecently exposed flesh between their tops and the hem of her skirt.

I am not sure that I said or did anything for a full minute after entering that house. I simply stared. I could not even swear to the fact that I remembered to breathe or not.

"Close the door, pet," she commanded, smiling the wicked smile of the devouring Goddess. "It is a little chilly to be leaving the house open to the elements, do you not think?"

"Y... yes, my Lady."

I pushed the door firmly closed, sealing myself within the house and abandoning my fate to whatever she might have in mind for me this evening.

"And how has my clever little boy been progressing with his work? You have brought good news for your Lady, I trust?"

The enquiry was spoken most politely, but the signs upon her face, the slightly raised eyebrow, and the look in her eye all told me all-too-clearly that unless I had brought good tidings, my suffering would be all the more severe.

Note, reader, how I had already long accepted that there would be some degree of suffering to be had whatever I might say to her!

"I... er.."

Her look faded from smiling to stern, and I remembered just in time the sheaf of papers I held in my hand. I waved them rather, I must confess, ineffectually around in front of me.

"There is indeed good news, my Lady," I said, desperate to please her. My instincts had taken complete command of the ship that was my body, and would take no argument from my more rational senses. "The, er... The arrangements with your solicitors have proven to be most satisfactory. There is no doubt that you are the entitled party... It will just take the bank a few weeks to... um... assemble the assets..."

Perhaps when that was done, she would let me alone?

Oh God, what if she did let me alone?

"A few weeks?" She frowned deeply. "I had expected a somewhat shorter period... Nonetheless, I know how long it takes you silly boys to achieve anything. I suppose I ought to be grateful it is not months!"

I allowed the arm holding the papers to fall, and bowed my head.

"I am sorry, my Lady..."

"Never mind, pet. Just leave the papers on the side table there. I think the little boy can stop playing at being a grown-up banker now. It is time for you to assume the role to which you are so much more naturally inclined."

With a thick lump of anticipation and dread clogging my throat, I discarded the papers as commanded.

"You know what you must do for me, pet," she instructed.

"Oh my Lady, please..."

"Now pet, do not disappoint me..."

She folded her arms beneath her corseted bosom, turning slightly side-on, the very picture of dominance and regality.

"My Lady..." I begged, knowing the shame to which I was inevitably to be instructed.

"Do it," she commanded.

I paused. Just for a moment.

Then I nodded, my blood pumping oh-so-swiftly around my veins and my fingers taking to the buttons of my jacket, beginning to remove it. I was to cast aside the foolish garments of the outside world, the costume I adopted to carry out the pretence that I was a good and upstanding member of the community. I was to reveal my true, naked self.

For her. The Young Lady.

"That's right, pet," she cooed in satisfaction as I began to discard my attire, a process made all the more shameful by how excited it made me. I dreaded and at the same instant could not wait for the moment when my shame would be fully revealed, and she would see how tall and proud and hard I had become. All because of her.

All-too-quickly I had brought myself down to nakedness once more, and I was all-too-pleased to discover that my Young Lady was looking over my shame with some approval, particularly noting the frustrated stiffness of my member, which her attire and manner did little to dispel. My passions became all the more inflamed as she began to stride down the corridor towards me, her clinging leather skirt sliding above her knees as she walked; my eyes were upon her beguiling boots, however, which exerted their strange and terrible power upon me.

"Very nice, pet," she said softly, smiling a little as she reached me, and trailed a finger down my bare chest. I shivered under her touch; I felt uncannily akin to some mouse made the plaything of a cat before its final, fatal devouring.

My member twitched; she was so close that the very tip of it that it almost brushed against her skirt. Oh, how I wanted it to! I was gone, all gone, completely given over to the desire to crawl for her and be her slave. So when she reached into the cabinet upon which I had placed her papers, opened it up and extracted from it a thick leather collar, of the type one might use to restrain an arrant pet...

Oh reader, I wanted to melt!

"My Lady...?" I asked, my voice all-a-quiver.

"Oh come along boy, you know what this is for!" she insisted, with a girlish playfulness in her words. "You're my little pet -- it is time I started treating you like one. Now hold still for me, boy, and I have no wish to hear any of your extraneous noise or fuss, do you understand?"

She had fallen into the manner of the prim schoolmistress once more. I could merely nod.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Excellent..."

I cannot tell you how magnificent it felt to have her leather-gloved hands about my neck, sliding soft and cool across my shoulders as she brought the collar around me like a hangman with his noose. The leather was thick and tight, and had a metal hoop bound about it which chilled the skin as she buckled the collar close against me. I coughed, half-choked for a moment, and she slackened it slightly -- but only very slightly.

It was terrible.

It was wonderful, so wonderful!

"Comfortable?" she asked.

I was not at all, but I did my best to nod for her once more, all movement of the neck now quite severely restricted by the collar.

"Yes my Lady," I rasped.

"I knew you would like it! I'm ever so pleased!"

She petted me -- petted me, as a girl might her pet dog! -- tickling me under the chin with one finger, then taking her hand back and clasping the gloved hands together in glee.

"Oh wonderful, my little darling. You look wonderful!"

In spite of it all, I was pleased.

"Thank you, my lady."

"Mmmmmmm... Now kneel for me, pet. You know how you love to."

I did not protest. How could I? I was naked, collared, obeying her every command... To protest at kneeling for her would have been futile, and against my very nature. In that moment, in that house, I was hers entirely, and the slightest command I had to obey.

I need not add, I suppose, that to obey such commands also made the world seem sweet and life seem to have a purpose beyond any it had held before. Oh how had I ever lived before without a Young Lady to humiliate and command me? Without a well-proportioned young heel to crawl to? It was as if I had been blind my whole life, and only now saw.

My duty was to serve women. And this Lady, in particular.

So I knelt on all-fours, my head bowed, adoring the constriction of the collar and the binding nature of it. I was all the more excited when she returned to the cabinet beside me and pulled out a second item which had resided within.

"Life your head up for me, little one," this woman a quarter of a century younger than me commanded.

"My Lady?"

I did as ordered, and was shocked to discover that I was in direct line-of-sight with the hem of her skirt. As I looked up further still, this became quite irrelevant as I discovered that between her hands she held a long length of slim chain. She was twisting and turning it, curling some of its ends around her bunches fists, smiling as a girl smiles at a new doll she has just been given.

"We're going to play a game!" she told me, with a manner of icy delight to her tone. "It's going to be ever so much fun, little pet! Just you see! Head up, let me get at you..."

I lifted my head as bidden.

At one end of her chain was a clasp, which she used to attach its length to the hoop of metal upon my collar. At the other end was a leather strap, which she held tight in one hand as she moved around, stepped across me and placed one gorgeous, booted foot on either side of me, standing directly across my kneeling form as I sat motionless on all-fours.

I knew what was going to happen. It seemed right, natural, just as feeling her tug experimentally upon the chain, jerking my head upwards still further, felt right and natural also. For perhaps the first time since I had been in her service, I felt calm and composed.

This was where I had waited so long in my life to be. It was terrible and wonderful and shaming and exquisite all at once.

"Giddy up, pet!" she whispered mockingly, as she jerked the chain again and then sat down upon my naked back. I could feel the leather of her skirt press against me, the warmth of her skin pulsing through it, and dark thoughts crossed my mind as to what she wore beneath the skirt.

Leather drawers, perhaps?

Oh that thought... the very idea...

She lifted her feet from the ground as she sat upon me, and dug her sharp, pointed heels into my flesh.

"I said giddy up!" she reiterated crossly, once more pulling the chain with which she held me, half choking me.

"Yes, my Lady!" I coughed, beginning to plod slowly forwards.

It seemed impossible for even myself to believe that a few short hours earlier I had been a respectable banker in one of the most esteemed financial institutions in all of England. I do not think that anybody would have believed me to be such had they seen me then, a pony-ride for a girl all in leather, and why would they? I was nothing, a boy, a slaveling, and I had never felt such joy in all of my days.

When we reached the end of the hallway, I was about to turn left into the room in which I had previously been punished, but she responded to this attempt by both digging her heels once more into my vulnerable flesh, and at the same time spanking me most fiercely upon the buttocks with her free hand, the stinging rebuke exciting speculation of punishments to come within me.

"Stop!" she ordered sharply.

I instantly did as commanded, and to my surprise to reached to her right, to the doorway of the cupboard beneath the stairs. With a click it came open, and as it swung I noticed that there was a guttering light emanating from within, albeit evidently from down a flight of steps.

A cellar, then. And one that had obviously been made ready for my arrival.

"Down you go, pet," she instructed, smacking my fleshy hindquarters once again.

"My Lady, I am not sure that..."

Smack!

Yes, another! And now she leaned forward, her tongue lapping at my ear as she whispered:

"Do not think for one moment of questioning me, boy! You are nothing -- remember that. A pet. A toy. Nothing. You obey all commands issued to you by a Lady, especially this Lady. Now move, pet -- bear me downward!"

Still uncertain of my ability to convey her safely down the stone steps that descended into the dimly-lit cellar, I nonetheless, took a deep breath and carried her across the threshold and into the darkness.

The stairs were not steep, but they were very cold and awkward to negotiate, especially when crawling and having to be so very careful of the precious cargo which I held upon my back.

"Careful boy!" she warned me, constantly pulling upon my collar, meaning I could barely breathe by the time that we reached the final step, a good six feet or so down into the gloom, which was indeed lit by an ornate candelabra, placed on top of a fine old oak cabinet, which was pushed against the far wall

This was almost, but not quite, the only furnishing of any kind present. There was one more item, the like of which I had never seen before, and as I dared to look up and take in my new surroundings, my concentration was instantly fixed upon it. It was both breathtakingly thrilling and utterly terrifying all at once. I hope you will forgive me if I pause my narrative here in order to furnish your fevered imaginations with some description, as I think the item bears it.

In essence, it was a large wooden frame, made of stout polished timbers. It was rectangular, perhaps eight feet in height and five feet across. In each corner, crossbars ran diagonally to strengthen the structure, and to these crossbars were attached heavy leather cuffs -- it was easy enough for even the most casual observer to surmise that these were to hold the ankles and wrists of a man.

A boy.

Myself.

The structure was upright, and held in place partly by a long length of chain which ran through a metal hoop extending from the top of its upper bar. This length of chain met a second hoop mounted into the ceiling, and thence ran across to one of the walls, where it was affixed to some sort of bar or rung.

On either side of the wooden frame, at the bottom, extended small blocks of wood, through which pegs ran, presumably into holes drilled into the floor, so that the device might be held steady and firm.

It was an impressive feat of engineering, and I wondered who had installed it here, and for what purpose. Surely she had not manufactured the assembly all herself?

But then, I knew so little about this Young Lady, I might have believed it entirely possible for her to do anything at all.

"Do you like your new playground, boy?" she asked, standing and pulling my chain firmly, bringing me across to the frame as she strode quickly to it. I had to scamper to keep up with her pace, and was still once more half-choked as we finally reached it. I wanted to collapse into a pile on the floor and take deep relieving breaths, but she was clearly in no mood to allow her toy any such recuperation.

"No slacking, pet! Come along, chop chop! Lots of fun to be had! Stand up now, boy. Come on!"

I slowly got to my feet, prompted all the more by her fierce tugging upon the chain, which she had curled around her fist until only a foot or so of clear length remained between her hand and my collar. When I finally stood, she pulled me forward, walking through the clear space in the centre of the frame and stopping when I had my feet upon its bottom side.

"Stay there, pet," she commanded. Then she put her hand to my collar and undid the chain, but leaving the restricting leather itself in place.

"Spread your arms and legs for me, ever-so-wide..."

I did not think of disobeying. Why would I? I did not say anything at all. I was totally within her power now, moulded to her will in every respect. Anything she commanded of me was hers to have, and I gave it willingly.

And that was when she bound me.

She took my weak and unresisting wrists, and threaded them through the leather straps, the buckles of which she adjusted until they bit tight into my flesh. Then she knelt and did the same with my ankles, tethering me completely to the frame, and my only thought -- aside from what a wonderful, wonderful feeling it was to be so constricted -- was to gaze down so that I might perhaps steal a glance at the creamy white flesh of her buxom bosom, so invitingly compressed and exposed within the dark corset.

"Do not think that I did not see that, boy," she whispered with a sharp, wicked smile as she rose, and suddenly one of her leather-gloved hands was upon my... my...

My balls, reader! I know no other word with which to describe them. She held them within her hand, and she squeezed them until the tears came to my eyes!