In the spring of 1994, i was diagnosed by my psychologist at the time with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Actually, she was testing me for Attention Deficit Disorder, but she had something up her sleeve i didn't know. I had anticipated that she was testing me for ADD, which she anticipated, confirming what her expert mind had long theorized. My first response when she told me that i had OCD was, "Well, duh, Doc." Not the hardest thing to notice about me.
I OBSESS. I obsess about obsessing. I do not have a severe form of the disorder where i need to have absolute, manic control of my environment - locking doors multiple times, scrubbing my hands arduously, following the exact same routine precisely to the letter - i have no impulse for any of that. But where OCD manifests itself in my sexuality is my unabashedly pinpoint and frighteningly precise attention to detail. I regularly notice when one of the girls in the office alters her hair color, her hair style, her makeup, even her perfume. I even notice when a girl who i encounter infrequently on the train platform waiting for the next one to arrive has changed something with her style. I'll usually offer this to them, to which they almost all bewilderedly confirm my hunch.
What is my point, you the reader, might be asking? I find something that entrances me, station myself in front of it, and then digest as much of the subject as possible.
My latest surfeit: self bondage
***I must preface the following, do NOT attempt this without the proper safety precautions installed. Safety and common sense is of the utmost importance when attempting any of what i'm about to discuss. I cannot stress this enough***
My recent splurge in the consumption of self bondage media happened innocently enough. I was browsing through YouTube looking for various mummification videos (there are some tremendous offerings and others that are just sadly disenchanting), when i came across an Italian girl who was interested in filming herself bagging for her boyfriend. This is an incredibly risky habit - INCREDIBLY - and if it appeared even remotely like she was at risk of putting herself in danger, the video would lose all of its appeal. It is not the danger or the risk that excites me. What got me aroused was that she was doing this for someone else.
I've controlled girls long distance before. The physical separation requires some creativity when trying to restrain the bottom. Obviously, i will not be able to bind her like i would if i were there, my shadow cast over her naked form. I quickly realized in these telephonic relationships that i would need to devise a way to imprison the girls in a thorough but safe way. I made the impediment simple, unobtrusive for safe activity like a chain collar, leather cuffs or - my favorite - a chastity belt. The situation called for real ingenuity when it came to the locking of these confinements. I devised on the low-tech end - freezing the keys for the lock in a jar of water - on the high end - a time safe. The stimulation for me came in the exact moment when the girl agreed to this arrangement, took my instructions and locked herself away.
A few days after i found the italian autorista, now in full slash and burn obsession mode, i came across some old Devonshire Productions videos that featured the beautiful Simone Devon herself. I couldn't control myself. My appetite had peaked for scenarios of auto-confinement, and Mme Devon had the goods.
One particular video had her starting on a bed, taking rope and binding her thighs, then her ankles, and anchoring this to a crotch rope. Next, she took a pair of handcuffs, thread these through the loops that she had made on the ass-side of the crotch rope. She produced throughout the restriction, the most adorable groans and whines. These reached a peak when she pulled out from her bag of toys a ball gag. She was about to pull off one of the most arousing gestures i've encountered in this genre: self-gagging. I turned up the volume. I wanted to hear every squeak, ever frustrated yet inflamed vocal struggle. She completed her bondage by laying on her stomach and locking her hands behind her back in a respectable but not completely orthodox hogtie.
That her struggles indicated an inability to free herself from this predicament was not what tickled my mental erogenous zones. It was the fact that the camera was clearly there indicating that someone was nearby, and that this girl had, for the audience, bound herself up. She would increase the bondage in the two subsequent segments, with the last one dousing me in erotic fever when she actually pulled a full leather hood over her head, entombing her entire crown in tight restrictive darkness.
I can understand why it exacts such a strong response from me. In my pursuit to transform the girl into a creature overflowing with my appetites and desires, to be able to witness her go step by step, putting herself in these shackles signifies the purest acceptance of my lessons. She's not only saying that she wants to be there, but she's actively stepping in front of a camera in order to document and declare her need to be there.