The first week of my college semester I met a great guy who hailed from the tiny town of Pella, Iowa; basically a farming community. He was a typical midwestern farmboy in every sense of the way wrapped in a hot 5’ 10” tight muscled frame. He had a natural cowboy look about him and you could tell he knew it too, and it was rare for him to be seen in anything other than jeans and western boots from Fall to late Spring.
Whereas Dave was into his boots, I was into sneakers, especially New Balance, and also desert tan combat boots, my so-called winter shoes. When my sneaks got to that point where they maintained that nice sweaty aroma even when not having been worn a day or two, that’s when they won that special place in my heart. It wasn’t uncommon for me to wear the same low cut or no-show socks a week straight, or no socks at all just to help ’em get there that much quicker. Seems I’ve always had a thing for smelly sneaks and socks. Who knows why certain things make us “tick,” but for whatever reason, that had an effect on me.
Although we lived in different dorms, we spent a lot of time together helping each other with the dreaded required courses we shared, grabbing a beer, and catching the home football games. Dave has a natural take-charge attitude, and though I wouldn’t consider myself passive, I found myself attracted to his dominant personality. Practically inseparable, we decided to room together beginning the second semester at my dorm since the rooms there were bigger and a bit closer to most classes than where he was living on campus.
So just before the winter break started, Dave shows up in his Ford Explorer packed with his things. Just how many pairs of western boots one guy needs I don’t know, but he had enough on hand to wear a different pair every day of the week plus one. With everything finally in, we had a couple of days of downtime before the three-week winter break started. Most of the guys on the floor had already finished the semester and left, so there wasn’t much socializing on the floor to be had. That Friday night we figured we’d just chill for the night and picked up a case of beer and snuck it back into the room. We just popped open our first beer when Dave got a call from his brother, and about half way through the conversation Dave was nearly doubled over in laughter. I only got bits and pieces of the conversation being on the one end, but it involved a mutual friend, didn’t he learn from all those other times and couldn’t get out, and what was the penalty?
This went on for another half hour before he hung up the phone and we got back to beer and watching some TV. Finally I had to know what the hell was so funny and that’s when Dave told me about a buddy of his back home that he and his brother hung out with. Apparently his brother challenged Justin to a hogtie and Justin lost. This, apparently, is something not uncommon with midwestern farmboys in Iowa according to Dave. Go figure.
It was then that I had one of those moments of saying something before thinking about what I was about to say, and I blurted out something to the effect of how lame Justin was if he couldn’t get out of a simple rope tie. The look in Dave’s eyes at that point should have been my warning bell, but something prevented me from really paying serious attention to that.
That’s when Dave told me that I shouldn’t be talking about things I know nothing about.
“Dude, seriously, I’ve played cops and robbers as a kid and it’s not a big deal,” I told him.
At that point Dave stood up, walked right up to where I was sitting and with a serious look in his eyes responded with, “cops and robbers, ooooh, like when you were eight years old and couldn’t tie a knot to save your life, gotcha. Well bud, us farmboys know how to use a rope and this ain’t the same thing.”
Curiosity, testoterone, beer, call it what you will, but I pushed it even further at that point, telling him that eight or eighteen, it’s no different and that at eighteen one would be better at manipulating ropes than an eight year old, anyway. Dave laughed and told me again that I didn’t know what I was talking about and said that maybe I need to put my money where my mouth is or just shut up. That’s when the testosterone, with perhaps some help from the beer, kicked in and I told him that I’d be loose in nothing flat if in the same situation but since we’re without the necessary tools to prove it, he’d have to take my word on it.
At that point Dave said not a word, grabbed his backpack and left the room only to return ten minutes later tossing the back pack at me, almost causing me to spill my beer.
Next thing Dave says to me is “you’re a size ten, right”
“Nine and a half, actually, why?”
Without Dave saying a word, the next things thrown my way were a pair of brown western boots and also hearing Dave muttering something about how these should fit.
“Suit up, cowboy!” were the next words out of his mouth.
I asked what the hell he was talking about and that’s when he told me to open the backpack, which I did and promptly dumped the contents, which had to be 150 feet of rope on the floor.
“Suit up, get the boots on, cowboy, I’m gonna teach you a lesson, and I have the necessary tools as you can see.”
This time his tone was more stern. He couldn’t be serious, I mean we were just bullshitting a few minutes ago about all this, right? I just sat there a minute thinking that he wasn’t serious, but apparently I took too long and Dave grabbed my left foot, quickly removed my sneaker and before I could even say a word he had the right sneaker off and said we could do this the easy way, or the hard way.
“I got it, I got it!” I said as I pulled on the boots.
“Fine looking cowboy you’d make, hair’s a bit long, but we can take care of that,” he said.
I just laughed at that comment and reminded Dave that I’ve still got a lot of beer to get through and to hurry up with this so that I can show him that my earlier comment about getting out of ropes would be validated. Just then I saw that look in his eyes again as he grabbed some rope and told me to get my ass on the floor, “belly side down ‘cowboy’!”
Belly side down I was as he promptly sat down over my legs, grabbed my wrists and started cinching ‘em with the rope. Cinched nice and tight they were as I examined his work as I felt him get off my legs for more rope. Fuckin A, where’s the damn knots?!
“Having a bit of trouble, cowboy?” Dave smartly asked.
At that moment I felt the ropes around the boots, more rope went around my thighs and then he sat my ass up and worked on the upper torso before dropping me back down, ‘belly side down’.
I knew at this point all was not good for me, but I wasn’t going to give in, and there was beer waiting for me, after all.
“How you doing, cowboy? Starting to wish you kept your mouth shut earlier?”
Once again I said it before thinking about it and I just laughed and mouthed off.
“Is that all you got, farm boy?” I said.
Just then a bit of fear kicked in when I saw that look in his eyes and another piece of rope on the floor. Wasn’t but a few seconds later and he added that last piece to put me in a hogtie. Hog tied belly side down I was and Dave stepped back, admired his work for a few minutes, grabbed a beer and sat down on the beat up sofa we had in the room, his booted feet next to my face.
“OK cowboy, I’m gonna give you an opportunity to get out of that, since you’re the renowned expert and all, and I’ll just get a little more comfortable, don’t mind if I pull off my boots, do ya? Though you may not like the smell of my sox.”
That ass actually kicked back and rubbed his socked feet on my face! Damn, and I thought my socks smelled great after they were let loose from my desert tan boots. Dave’s booted socks were amazing fresh out of his black harness boots. Had to quickly focus back on the ropes at that point, getting a hold of his sweaty socks would be another day.
Dave downed one beer and I hadn’t made any progress, he’s starting on his second beer and asks if I’m willing to concede.
“Hell no!” I respond.
“OK, then, penalty phases will start to kick in soon, cowboy…”
By then I was an hour into this mess and still hadn’t made any progress. I wanted some beer, afte rall, we planned tonight as a beer night, so I told Dave that he won and he could untie me.
“You want out, cowboy? That’s fine, first you gotta spend time on my feet with that cocky mouth of yours.”
WTF?! Did I just hear him correctly?! “You’ve lost your mind! I’m not doing any such thmmmp!”
In went Dave’s big toe in my mouth and he quickly bent down to grab the back of my head and keep it in place and quietly said, “cowboy, I’m your only way out of those ropes. Now I’ve got ten toes that you’re going to spend time on as well as the bottom of my sweaty feet. Get used to the fact that right now, this is the way it’s going to be, now get working, cowboy!”
Hogtied on the floor, belly side down and Dave’s sweaty socked big toe had invaded my mouth and along with that some specific instructions as to how part of the rest of the night was going to be spent. After a couple minutes, Dave removed his socked toe from my mouth, took his sock off and placed it right under my nose. The sweat from his feet combined with his leather boots was intoxicating. He bent down near me and began telling me things that I didn’t know this farmboy had been paying attention to over the past semester.
“You see, cowboy, I’ve been paying attention to some things about you this past semester. I’ve noticed that you often wear the same no show socks with your sneaks several days, even a week at a time without washing them. Even saw you a couple times take a wiff of ‘em when you pulled them off, you just didn’t realize that I actually saw you do it. Seems to me, cowboy, that you have a thing for sweaty socks, and feet too I bet.”
With that I shook my head no in trying to convince him he was wrong, but he continued by telling me that it was cool, because he was going to enjoy having his feet taken care of by me all semester long starting with tonight as he reminded me that the ropes weren’t coming off until he was satisfied with my work.
I admit that the socks and sweaty sneaks were a turn-on, but I never sucked on a guy’s toes or licked the tops and bottoms of a guys feet, this can’t be good, I just knew it.
“Tell you what, cowboy, let’s make you a little more comfortable. I’ll take you out of the hogtie position, but the rest of the ropes stay on.”
With that he flipped me on my back, sat on the beat up sofa, grabbed his beer and put the bottom of his foot over my mouth. A quick prodding with his other foot at my nuts and I did what I thought was the unthinkable, licking on an Iowa farmboy’s sweaty foot and toes, and damn they smelled great and the salty sweat off his feet and toes was intoxicating.
Yup, it was going to be an interesting semester! Apparently satisfied, he instructed me to get belly side down again, which I did and flipped over. The ropes were finally coming off, and soon I was free, rubbing my wrists of course, but free to get at the beer I wanted more than ever at that point.
With that I grabbed a fresh cold one, sat down on the sofa and started to pull off the boots that Dave had instructed me to wear for the rope challenge.
“Woah, woah! What you doing there, cowboy? The boots stay on, gonna make a cowboy out of you yet. Still think the hair’s a bit long, but we can take care of that. Besides, those boots look pretty damn good on you, look damn fine in rope as well.”
The last comment was said with that evil grin and stark look in his eyes. Back to some TV watching and some much needed beer after an eye opening evening, a nice much needed buzz and I was ready to rack out for the night. I again went to pull off the boots and quickly found Dave squatting down in front of me, looking me square in the eyes and with his stern voice said, “boots stay on!”
“Dude, I’m ready to rack out. Nobody wears boots to bed,” I smartly said back with a beer-induced sarcasm.
“I wasn’t asking you to leave them on, I was telling you.”
And with the speed of a rodeo calf roper, Dave had me up off the sofa, over to my bottom bunk and flat on my back. And before I knew what was happening he had ropes going around my booted feet to the corners of the bunk.
“Boots stay on!” was all he said as he looked at me with my booted feet tied spread eagle.
“Now, if you can behave yourself, I’ll not rope the rest of you down, but boots stay on! You understand me, boy?”
Resigned to the fact that he could easily grab more rope and have my wrists tied before I could even reach one of the knots on either one of my booted feet, I responded with a “yes Sir.”
During the night I periodically found myself waking up, wiggling my toes in the boots, feeling the rope around them and giving them a slight tug. I found the new sensations pretty damn hot, and Dave’s more pronounced authoritarian tone toward me for some reason just bumped it up a notch.
As with any guy my age, if the wind blows the wrong direction you find yourself popping a boner. Here I was, half roped to my bottom bunk in my friend’s broken in cowboy boots and I was popping wood at 2AM. Resigned to the only natural thing for me to do, I quietly opened my fly and, well the rest goes without saying.
“Needing some help with that?” Words coming from Dave’s upper bunk.
I just froze in mid stroke.
“I said, needing some help with that? Dude, I have an older brother and we had bunks, I’d know that sound anywhere.”
In a flash he was out of his bunk and looking at the obvious situation that I was in.
“You didn’t answer me, cowboy, you needing help with that?”
“Uh, no, think I’m good, but thanks,” was all I could come up with during his unexpected arrival.
“I thought we agreed that you would behave yourself tonight, doesn’t look like you’re behaving, cowboy. But I think we can help you with that lack of discipline,” he said.
I swear it wasn’t but 90 seconds and I found both wrists tied together and secured to the head of my bunk with Dave straddling over me saying, “Let me show you how it’s done, cowboy.”
Needless to say, things changed from that day forward. Dave made sure that my main footwear was his broken in brown cowboy boots that I had been issued that first night. He issued me my boot socks and determined how many days they’d be worn before washing. I frequently found myself roped and taking care of his sweaty feet in the late hours when it was time to call it a night from the others on the dorm floor. I was becoming the cowboy he wanted me to be before I knew it. And as time moved on, I found myself craving his ropes. I was enjoying being helpless and under his direction.
It was a Saturday morning during breakfast in the dorm dining room when Dave looked at me and told me that we’re “taking care of that hair of yours today.” I started to protest, but he looked at me square in the eyes and said, “I wasn’t asking, I was telling you. No cowboy of mine is wearing his hair over his ears, you’re getting a proper cut around the ears and trimmed up on top and you’ll keep it that way. Now let’s get going.”
A trip out to the barber shop and I was sporting a proper haircut by Dave’s standards, and I have to admit it looked damn good on me. We hopped back into his Explorer to head back to campus when we passed by an Army / Navy store and he made a sudden change to stop in. It was a pretty good sized store, had all you’d expect to find there: boots, camo gear, T-shirts, old military surplus stuff, you name it.
Midway through the store we walked by a glass display counter that had several styles of handcuffs and even leg cuffs on display. Who knew that you could actually buy this stuff without being a cop? Dave asked the young guy behind the counter if he could see the set of Smith & Wesson chain cuffs that were in the case. Dave played with them a bit, ratcheting them through a few times, he had a look in his eyes. I could tell he liked them. Have to admit, they did look hot, much better looking and sturdier than the cheap cuffs I bought through mail order when I was in high school.
“Here, try them on,” Dave said as we were checking them out.
Laughing a bit I said, that’s OK.
“I wasn’t asking, I was telling you, now let’s have you try them on.”
Reluctantly, I put my hands out in front so Dave could snap them on, I figured the sooner we got this over with the better.
“Uh uh, behind the back, cowboy.”
I knew I had the pleading “please don’t” look in my eyes, but he just looked at me with that stern look and raised eyebrows and I knew it was a no-win situation. The sooner I do it, the sooner it will be over I thought, and the next thing I knew, I found myself cuffed behind the back in an Army / Navy surplus store with a few onlookers brandishing a smile. The young guy behind the counter came around and pointed out to Dave the double locking feature of the cuffs, how nice of him I thought as I rolled my eyes behind my head.
“Pretty sweet,” Dave said, “I’ll take them. Cut me a better price if I take the legcuffs too?”
The guy gave Dave a 10% discount on both for the double purchase. The young guy behind the counter told Dave to go ahead and hand him back the cuffs and he’ll put them back in the box for him.
You can imagine my shock when Dave responded with, “That’s OK, he can wear them on the drive back.”
With a chuckle, the young guy finished up the sale and I was walking out of the store cuffed up and back to the Explorer for the ride home. I had a look in my eyes when Dave turned to me as I sat in the front seat and said, as he held the leg cuffs up.
“Bet you can’t wait to try these on, cowboy,” he said.
The drive back to the dorm wasn’t but fifteen minutes and we scored a parking spot close to our dorm room’s entrance. I scooted up a bit in my seat so that Dave could access the cuffs to take them off and he just said, “hang on a sec and I’ll get the door for you.” With that he came around and opened the passenger door and said, “you know those cuffs are staying on until we get to the room, don’t even think of asking me to take them off.”
OK, so I had been getting into our rope play and boot and sock control for a couple months now, but wearing cuffs through the dorm hall back to our room was definitely taking it to a whole new level in my book. I was going to be seen by several of the guys on our floor, just no way of getting around that, and how the heck does one explain this?
I actually got pretty lucky that nobody was walking down the hallway, that is, until we were about four doors away from our room and we come across Brody, who lives two doors down from us.
Brody, in my book is one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. He’s in the Army ROTC program on campus and was just back from a Saturday morning drill, still wearing his fatigues, black military boots and one of those hot, really short sleeved, skin tight Under Armour military colored T-shirts that showed off part of his incredible tribal tatt on his right arm. It extended from mid bicep up to the round muscular curve of his shoulder. He’s not tall, but what I’d describe as a fire plug. Built solid as hell with an incredible smooth chest and very hairy legs.
As we were passing by he gave us the “hey guys.” Then my stomach dropped when I suddenly heard his boots stop cold, and a chuckle coming from Brody’s mouth followed by a “what the hell’s this?” Brody came up closer and was checking out the cuffs with some interest and Dave proceeded to tell him that they were the real deal, same as used by law enforcement.
“No shit? Damn those look tough,” were the next words from Brody’s mouth.
“Yeah, seems my roomie here liked them so much when he saw them that he wanted to wear them home to get the full experience,” Dave said.
Another slight chuckle out of Brody, but I also could feel him physically checking out the cuffs and letting out another “cool cuffs man, they look pretty tough.”
That’s when Dave invited Brody to head over to our room with us and he’d show him the additional purchase made that day, once again pawning it off that it was me that wanted them.
Here I am still cuffed up and Dave and Brody are examining the legcuffs, and it seemed to me that Brody found the new purchases were pretty damn hot, might have been that slight tent in his crotch that I happened to notice.
With Brody in possession of the legcuffs, Dave suggested that since I wanted them so bad, I should try them on since I hadn’t had the opportunity to do so yet, and told Brody to do the honors.
“Come on guys, you’ve had your fun, just uncuff me,”I said.
Brody’s response was that I should at least try them on, and with that he bent down and tried to lock them around my cowboy boots only to discover that they wouldn’t fit over the boots. Realizing this, he scooted me over to my desk chair, pulled up my jeans a bit and pulled a boot off.
“Damn, dude, you ever wash your socks?” were Brody’s next words.
Dave just chuckled, knowing in advance that these boot socks were on their third day already. Second boot off and I hear the ratcheting of first one legcuff and then the other.
“Go ahead, walk around, see how they fit,” Dave said with a smirk.
Brody just chuckled, but his eyes were seriously checking out the legcuffs, I’d know that look anywhere.
“Damn, those are tough, dude,” Brody said.
And at that point, I could see the wheels spinning in Dave’s head as he bent down and removed them from my ankles. Holding them up in front of Brody he said with a somewhat authoritarian tone, “You should try ‘em out yourself, Brody, see what it feels like to walk in them. You’re a tough ROTC Army boy, should be a piece of cake for a guy like you, have a seat on the desk chair, let’s get you locked up.”
Freaking amazing! Brody did exactly what Dave said and quietly sat down, and he actually extended his booted feet out before Dave even had a chance to tell him to do so. The legcuffs looked hot as hell locked up around those military boots, and watching Brody walk around a bit, give ‘em a tug a few times to test their integrity and hearing the chains hit the dorm floor was hot!
“Damn, these are tough, guys! No getting out of these bad boys without a key!” said Brody.
As Brody was checking out the legcuffs, Dave was unlocking my hands from the cuffs, at that point Brody had turned around and was walking back our direction when Dave held up the cuffs in front of him and suggested he get the full effect. I was rubbing my wrists at that point and totally expected Brody to decline the offer. My jaw must have hit the ground as Brody, not saying a word, just turned around, lowered his head, and put his hands behind his back, offering them to the Smith & Wessons. Dave had them double locked in no time and Brody was testing the chains with a few tugs. With his wrists locked up behind his back, his built chest was a site to behold in that tight Under Armour stretch fiber T-shirt.
Dave walked around the front of Brody and playfully, yet with some strength, gave Brody’s pecs several short jabs and taunting Brody by telling him he’s not so tough now that he’s locked up, and then threw in a “you look pretty damn good in cuffs and shackles Army boy, .natural look on you.”
He gave Brody’s right nipple a little twist followed by a couple light playful taps on his cheek. “Think you can get out of the cuffs, Army boy?”
“Heck yeah, if you give me the damn keys, dude,” was Brody’s response.
Dave followed that by telling Brody how it was going down as he placed the keys in Brody’s hands.
“Tell you what, here’s the keys. You have five minutes to get out of the cuffs and shackles. If you fail, you’ll stay locked up for the next hour.”
I thought this was a no brainer, with the keys, how could you not get out? What I didn’t take into consideration at the time was that his left wrist was turned outward in the cuff, making it very difficult to try to manipulate the keys into either hole. Brody failed miserably. Though he did manage to get one key into the appropriate hole, but didn’t know he had to first turn the key one direction for the double lock mechanism before he could actually disengage the cuff ratchet. Realizing defeat, but not actually thinking Dave was serious about the hour penalty, Brody turned his back towards Dave, slightly lifting his arms up a bit so that he’d take the cuffs off. Dave just chuckled and told Brody that the cuffs come off after the hour’s up and to make the best of it.
“I must say, you do look damn good in ‘em, Brody. Yes sir, you look mighty fine in metal restraints, a natural look for you indeed.”
That hour must have gone by very slowly for Brody, but it was torture for me as well, just watching him tug on the cuffs every now and then to check out the chains and seeing his boots locked up in shackles was amazing. Dave was right, Brody had a great, natural look in cuffs. As promised, he was released after his hour was up and Dave, with that evil grin on his face, told Brody that he was welcome to spend time in ‘em anytime he wanted.
You can imagine the look on my face when about two weeks later on a Friday night, after returning from a very late library study session, I found Brody sitting cuffed, hands behind his back, on my desk chair wearing jeans, a wife beater tank top and his military boots. Dave had already left to visit a nearby cousin for the weekend long before I was due back from the library. Brody gave me the cliff notes of the night: apparently the two of them had been horsing around, Dave got him cuffed and then added the legcuffs running the chain through the bottom support of the chair. Dave then let him know he had to get on the road, but that I’d be back sometime late that night and he was sure that I’d release him. The keys were with his dogtags around his neck and I set him free. He noticed me checking out his tribal and suggested I get some ink myself, since I had the look for it. He even offered to design it for me, he had designed his own as it turned out.
With a slap on my back, he said, “Thanks for taking the cuffs off, it’s been a long three hours locked up. I was beginning to think that Dave was going to have me in lock up all night. Oh, and I’m serious about helping you with the tatt, dude.”
With that he headed back to his room. As he headed toward my door I noticed a familiar shape in his left rear pocket, it seems someone else on our floor has a set of cuffs.
To be continued …
This story is based on fictitious characters.
Copyright © 2010 by Atlanta Stud