… ‘cause all the house subs were tied tight, handcuffed, and gagged with nasty worn knickers

With tight-fitting steel cages, locked on, inescapably locking their prickers.

All the keys out of reach, dancing a-top the domme’s breasts

As she locked the cell doors, ignoring the pleas of her guests.

I’m not usually that poetic, and somehow even worse at rhyme, but on the way home Christmas Eve I did see somebody on the bus wearing what looked like the distinctly long and slim HolyTrainer keys on a necklace. Obviously, I left her alone as it is public transit and small talk with strangers on the bus is torture on earth, but I could not help writing down the above, appropriately festive, little rhyme. If there is such a thing as a Christmas sign to try my luck on the personals again, that’s as good as any.

Like I kind of am not usually very big about Christmas – it’s just historically never been an East Asian thing; hence the old joke about Jewish people eating Chinese food on Christmas. But have been able to take the time and think about all the old and new relationship I’ve made both here and in the real-world. And honestly, I’m happy I’ve had all of them - even if it was one that did not work out, it would always give me some extra insight about myself I never would have had.

Who am I? Aside from an unapologetic tease, you can also describe me as a sub-leaning switch who is just a bit burnt out from topping way too much these days. I’ve worn many different hats – from serviceman to software engineer to photographer but the one hat that fits me best is the classic damsel-in-distress, even if as a masculine spin-off of the old archetype. I am having the most fun when I am the tied up, silenced, helpless but still defiant and ferociously struggling captive. I want to be hogtied, wriggling, and backtalking you as you cram your filthy dirty socks into my equally filthy mouth to shut me up, as I fight and protest until the final moment when the stuffing is shoved in to my mouth and the sound of duct tape coming off the roll fills the air. I am talking about just shoving your nasty, soaking wet panties into every cranny in my mouth and wrapping heaps of vet wrap over my big yapping mouth to seal it all in. That kind of thing, if you know what I’m talking about.

Seriously, it is not that much of an exaggeration to say that bondage is a pastime I would engage in every day if I could. One of my long-term fantasies (you know, ranking before the brownstone with the dungeon and cells in the basement, but after the custom-fit steel chastity belt to which my other half has the only key) is to have a form of therapy in which one is just thoroughly, tightly and inescapably tied, massively gagged and securely blindfolded. It will be a way to either relax and sink into the feeling or to let out some energy with some vicious struggling depending on one’s temperament.

To that end, I am still seeking to find my people. I’ve described this as my FWB previously – friends with bondage. Specifically, I am looking for both online conversation and in-person play partners (and ultimately one primary partner but baby steps) who either derive pleasure from the thought of tying me the fuck up and thoroughly, massively gagging me. But beyond that tomfoolery, the “friends” part means that in addition to the sexy kink, I want us to actually be friends. A casual engagement is fine but at the very least we should be acquaintances who care about each other and want nothing but the best for the other half. I’m already mature enough to use the 30 personals subreddit and I think that signals that it has become the right time in my story to sink more effort and energy into lasting connections. I live life by the ethos that if you’re fair to me, I’ll be fair to you.

While bondage is core to my kink, I am nothing if not open to suggestion. Rope and not-rope, Eastern style or Western, as long as somebody (ideally me) ends up helpless and writhing, I’m good, game and willing. Nevertheless, as a visual aid, I lean towards the classic helpless "damsel in distress" look you can see in the works of Dominic Wolfe, JJ Plush, Eric Cain, Steve Villa, and others. Restrictive inescapable ties, thick blindfolds or hoods, mouth-filling gags, and just relentless teasing and playing with.

That being said, within bondage, I do have a special interest in gags. If your idea of sexting involves us talking about how we can gag each other so tight that we've choking on that thick wad, we're already off to a great start. Something about being totally helpless and voiceless, being unable to communicate and fully under somebody’s control really does it for me. Just cuff my hands behind my back, cram my mouth full of your wet panties and tape it shut, maybe with a vibrator stuck in me. I am willing to call that a date. It is even more affordable than a movie in this inflationary environment; plus reusing dirty laundry this way just has to be good for environmental sustainability. Use your worn, dirty undergarments as a great gag instead of putting them through the wash. I can go on for days talking about gags (the irony). It is definitely not a dealbreaker though; just a special interest.

Oh, and second to bondage, photography is my other big love. I am always looking for tied up friends to shoot. As a practical matter, it’s challenging to take photos if I’m the one with hands securely tied up behind my back if the binding is done right. In terms of geography, while it would be great if you were local to the NY metro, I travel a lot and am happy to start online with an eye on in-person visits sometime in the future if we vibe – wordplay fully and shamelessly intended. But I am prioritizing in-person connections at the moment.

On that note, I’ve rambled for long enough, talking your ear off. Now, it is your turn. Sometimes, at this point, people would ask the reader to include this or that word to indicate they have read to the end. Yawn. I instead suggest you include how you would gag the fuck out of me as part of your message. Just want to make sure we’re both real, that’s all. That’s what we’re here for, no?