Now and again, one might get themselves into situations they'd rather be free from - literally and figuratively.
The guys on-line who are flaky, scary, annoying and just dicks are one thing. There is usually a block feature for those. It is the seemingly normal ones you don't know are freaks until you're with them.
I had been chatting with a guy on Recon. I mention the site because that site does tend to have an edgier client base. I'm ok with that. Edgy is fine. Perverted is fine. Psychotic, is not.
His profile seemed normal. Our chat seemed normal. Though he told me if there was anything I wanted to party with, I had to bring it. I clarified I do NOT party and if he did that was fine, but it's not my scene. He claimed he does not party - or not during work days. That should have been my red flag, but I ignored it.
He wanted to be worshipped. I can deal with that in a masculine man too. His pictures looked more than decent. I opted to travel.
The house he claims was "a nice one" might have been after Jeffrey Dahmer had fallen on hard times. On the outside it was fine, on the inside, well...........it was dark. It was cold. He certainly rarely picked up after himself.
Mind you - what I'm writing is all in retrospect, so my thoughts going in versus while there versus after the fact won't be consistent. My final memories are going to prevail. So when you think of why I was there, try to think of the before. ..even the during.
He greeted me at the door, in what would be an elaborate wearing of several pairs of underwear. Tight boxer briefs, compression shorts, a wrestler singlet and a thong. He told me of his fetish, but I never imagined multiple pairs at a time.
"Grab my bulge". I did. It felt nice and firm. Of course at this point I still don't know about the padding of multiple layers.
It was a series of stand up, kneel, touch this, touch that. Yes Sir. No Sir. Thank you Sir kind of things.
Done right, this can be a hot scenario. Done wrong, it can be icky. Done creepy, it can be threatening - at least on some levels. It was a combination of the last two.
Curtains were drawn, I was stripped down. Soon, I had shackles on my wrist. And while I think he thought they were secure, a blind, deaf and mute Houdini could have gotten out of them if needed.
The man liked to be close. But the man was not like his pictures - maybe at one time. But for his not being a drug user (at least on weekends), something about him reeked of meth - and not just his complex chronic halitosis. ...there was nothing simple about that.
He was hoping at some point that I would be his 'boy'. His 'slave'. He even walked me through his kitchen and said, 'when' (not if) you are my boy, you'll be doing my dishes. Dishes that clearly had not been done for weeks. Tons of them, stacked - and he allegedly lived alone. I half expected to see cockroaches.
I might be a sub guy, but I'm not slave material. My backbone is far too strong to bend that way. Clearly he thought otherwise.
He talked about how he'd like to shave every hair off my body. He tried to talk down to me - and I let him think he was, but he didn't have the skill for it. Not like the think he did.
This man was all about ill conceived notions of himself - that he was smarter, better looking and more dominant than he was.
IF he could have gotten hard, he would have had a beautiful cock. But he couldn't get hard - or keep hard. Maybe I wasn't a turn on to him (I hope I wasn't). But I'm going back to that he was a meth user and those fuckers just can't do anything with their dicks when they're high.
But back to the talking down to - a good dom man can do it and cut to the quick. He can make you feel degraded while giving you a hard-on at the same time.
He said he was tough as nails and nothing I could say or do would ever bother him.
And while this guy's words were mean - to and about me - they weren't resonating within me. "You're a loser - no one will ever love you". Then he asked me if I ever had suicidal thoughts - and if so, how he'd like to show me how to cut myself with a razor blade so there'd be no saving me. ...and how messy it would be....and how he'd want to see the mess.
It was then I planned my departure / escape. I'd been thinking about it anyways, but now I had to enact it.
I slipped into the conversation that a "good boy" always leaves notes where he is going, especially if he doesn't know his host. I also mentioned having to be somewhere at a certain time, which was coming up just about......now.
This threw him off guard enough to start to look for his phone in the mess that was his house. I offered to help. That got me out of the restraints by him, so I could let him feel in control. I said I'd get my phone to call his so it'd ring. But instead I got my pants and shirt on and slipped on my shoes without tying them.
With my phone in my back pocket, I told him I left it in the car...and I had to be going anyways.
The man still had MY underwear - don't ask - and I told him to keep it. He said he planned to anyways.
I made a beeline for the car and got the fuck out of there.
I wasn't three miles away when he messaged me on Recon when I'd be coming back. I was driving, but thought about spelling out NEVER. I just kept driving.
Telling this story to a sex-like buddy, he confirmed I put myself in harms way. And going forward, we would use each other for providing locations of where we are going.....you know......in case.
To get one jab in to this loser - I did message him back, since he said nothing I could say or do would hurt him. I told him he needed to stop doing met and see a dentist and periodontist immediately, as his breath was like death.
Oddly, I didn't get a response.
So, this is my cautionary tale. Or as it was put to me, my 'cautionary tail'. ...though this guy didn't get near my tail.