A tale of fetish misfortune from Recon member Bowtiesubguy
When I lived in San Francisco, I explored virtually every fetish there is :). This is my favorite mishap story:
I was really excited to go to my first BDSM party, hosted monthly by a well-known photographer. His parties were legendary, and after a few BDSM sessions with him, he finally invited me! Around the same time I discovered most of my BDSM fetishes were the most fun to experience whilst in a suit and tie.
It just so happened that my first party was also on my birthday, and although suit and tie wasn't the usual dress code for these parties, I managed to convince the host to not only let me dress up, but to be a suited urinal at his party. The flyer he circulated even featured the fact that I'd be at his party in my "birthday suit."
I arrived early and helped him set up, and just before his guests arrived, I got in his tub. He blind folded me, unzipped my pants, and front hog tied my ankles to my balls to my wrists with a scratchy jute rope. It felt amazing to be legitimately restrained and unable to move.
The guests started to arrive and before long, they came in the bathroom. I got very wet very fast.
After a couple of hours, I was getting uncomfortable, but I was determined to last until the end of the party. One thing the host and I didn't think about was the type of rope he used—jute rope shrinks when it gets wet.
I started losing feeling in my wrists and ankles, and eventually had to tell someone to get the host. He tried to untie me but the knots had fused together. He had to cut me free.
I couldn't stay for the party. I was dripping wet and didn't have a change of clothes.
Another thing we didn't plan for was to how to get me out of his fully carpeted house without making a mess. The host had to announce to his guests to clear a path for me and I had to limp on numb ankles as quickly as possible out the front door.
Once outside, with the feeling slowly returning to my limbs, I decided to walk home. It was a warm, beautiful night, and I'd learned that no one really cares what you've been up to in San Francisco.
Halfway home, I stopped at a Burger King. I was still wet, but I was in a dark suit and I was no longer dripping, so I didn't think anyone would really notice. I waited for my order next to two police officers who eyed me briefly but didn't say anything. I wasn't drunk or high and I wasn't causing any trouble. Again, it was San Francisco.
The walk home was about 45 minutes. I walked from the Mission, through SOMA, the Civic Center, the Tenderloin, to lower Nob Hill, and passed dozens, if not hundreds of people.
A couple of blocks from my apartment, I noticed my numbness was almost completely gone. I suddenly felt a light breeze... on my crotch.
I looked down and realized that after I was cut loose at the party, I didn't tuck my porcelain-white, shaved dick and balls back into my suit pants.
I couldn't fathom how many people had seen me like this, including two police officers, and didn't say anything. I was mortified...for about 5 minutes.
Best. Night. Ever.
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