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Chapter One- Beginnings

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The year was 1977 and I had turned ten years old that spring. I was a little tall for my age, but as skinny as a rail. My grandmother always joked that if I turned sideways I would disappear. But I liked my physique, really. I sported blond fur, which I wished my parents would've let me grow out longer, but with my father being in the military, it wasn't going to happen. I inherited my mother's blue eyes, and I am thankful for that, at the very least. Most people that met me thought it was my best feature; that and my perky ass.

Now, there are a few other things that need to be made clear before going onward. My parents were, and still are, strict and religious. Spankings were part of the norm when it came to discipline. Church was another large part of our lives as I grew up. And anything having to do with anything homosexual was more than taboo. Even the topic of sex in general was a forbidden topic. My mother explained the basics, but that was it.

Next, my name was a constant source of irritation. I was named after my father, and he after his father, so I was a 'third'. Daniel Oliver Bowman III, at your service; nicknamed Trae. My parents thought they were being clever. I thought they were being sadistic. As the name rhymed with 'gay', it was definitely a problem.

In those days, being gay was a real problem. Most men would've died before being called out. Now, it's a lifestyle, but at the time it wasn't accepted so easily. Entire families were split apart by someone 'coming out'.

As military life often does, it has us move around a lot and that summer had us moving to a new post in San Antonio, Texas. My dad was apparently going to be an instructor of some sort there. Normal things happened as we moved into the neighbourhood and we got settled.

School started on schedule, unfortunately. My first month in the new school was the usual bullshit of getting hassled because I was the new kid. I never hated the studies; just the assholes in my classes. My younger brother (by two and a half years) never had those problems; the brat could walk into a room and come away with at least a dozen friends. I, on the other hand, was lucky to get one friend from the same room. Couple that with my nickname, one can imagine what my school life was like.

I did manage to sort of make a friend. His name was Harry Mason. He and I were of the same build, but he was slightly shorter. His fur was darker and he had hazel eyes. A few freckles were on his high cheekbones. He wasn't too bad on the eyes, but his one problem was that he wore glasses, and it bothered him a lot. Other kids took advantage of that at every opportunity. I didn't see what the big deal was, but it bothered him. I think the only reason we became friends in the first place, was that neither of us had any others. I guess I should've known that we'd have problems from the start. Anyway, about a month into the school year, on a Friday afternoon, I was riding my bike around the neighbourhood. I stopped to take a breather, and spotted a two story house. For our area, that was slightly unusual. As I looked at the house, a car pulled up to it. A man got out and walked up to the door. He was standing very oddly, like he was a servant of some sorts. After knocking on the door, he stood and waited. Another man answered the door and placed what looked like a collar around this one's neck. The visitor bowed and walked in as the man turned to let him.

I was stunned. The man that answered the door saw me and smiled. It wasn't a malicious smile; more of a friendly one. I was still too stunned to move, so I didn't smile back or do anything else to acknowledge him. He didn't seem to mind at all as the door closed. Finally, kicking myself into gear, I left the area.

That night, I kept thinking about what I saw there in front of the house. It didn't like turn me on; it more like piqued my curiosity. My dad noticed that I was kind of quiet that night, and asked me about it at bedtime. I told him that I had something on my mind, but it wasn't all that important. He nodded and tucked me in for the night.

The next day, I headed back to the two story house to find the owner in the yard trimming the hedges. I stopped my bike at the entrance to the driveway, but didn't venture onto the property yet. My mom always said that it was rude to invite yourself onto another's land. He turned and smiled when he saw me there.

"Hello," he said with that same smile. He was of a firm build; stocky. He didn't look menacing, so I answered him with the same greeting. He saw me just standing there, and then beckoned me onto his lawn.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," I said, choosing that route than what my mother taught me.

"Who's a stranger? The name's Sloan Carpenter."

I looked around and, not really seeing any danger, I put the kickstand down on my bike and walked up his driveway. He stuck his hand out and I tentatively took it.

"Trae," I said as we shook our hands. We dropped our grip quickly.

"Trae?" he asked, questioning my name. I nodded. "Did your parents not like you very much?" He was smiling, as if he was good-naturedly joking.

"I'm the third; Trae means three," I said, sort of shrugging my shoulders and not really looking at him full in the face.

"Well, that's clever," he said, still smiling.

"You try living with it," I answered, frowning a little. He laughed at my sarcasm.

"Fair enough. What's your real name?"

"Daniel."

"Okay, 'Daniel' it is." That was all he said and sort of went back to inspecting his handiwork with the hedges. They looked pretty good, actually. After a few minutes of gazing at them, I decided it was time for the real reason I was there.

"Why was that man here, yesterday?"

"He was here for some fun," was his answer.

"What kinda fun?"

"Well, the adult kind," he said after thinking about it for half a minute. I wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily.

"Adult fun? Like sex?"

"Something like that, Daniel," he said with a sly smile, now, "and don't ask me what that was about. When you get to be an adult, you'll get to have some of that kind of fun. Until then, don't worry about it."

"What was the collar for?" I was insisting, now.

"Let's just say that he likes to be tied up in certain way."

"Well, I like to be tied up also," I said, but wasn't instigating anything; just merely stating a fact at the time.

"Why?" he asked, simply.

"I dunno; it just feels good," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"I tell you what, you figure out why you like it, and I'll tell you everything about what he and I did. Deal?"

I thought about it for a minute or so, and thought it was a fair arrangement. I nodded at him. We shook on it and he said he had some things to do inside, so he turned and left. I did the same. I went straight home. After parking my bike in the back yard, I found my brother in his room, which was rare.

"Brad," I said, entering his room. He turned to face me away from his action figures. "Tie me up."

"Huh?" he asked, intelligently.

"I want you to tie me up," I insisted.

"Why?" he asked, with a stupid look on his face.

"Because I want you to; I wanna feel it," I said. I was really pushing him to do it before our mom walked in.

"Okay," he said, not really understanding, but how many times does a young kid get to tie up his older brother?

He got some rope from his closet while I took my shirt, shoes and socks off.

"What're you doing that for?" he asked when he turned back around.

"I wanna feel the ropes on my skin," I said, still trying to keep it quiet.

"You're weird, Trae," he said, but did it anyway.

I crossed my hands behind my back at the wrists and he wound the rope around them a few times. I told him to do it real tight, like he didn't want me to get out of it. He answered back that he would. The rope was wound around and through several times to get the desired tautness needed.

My little dick was getting hard in anticipation of it all. I was still too young, at the time, to know what the hell to do about it, but it felt good. I held on as he went and got a belt he used for his church clothes. He wrapped the belt around my arms just above the elbows and chest, and then cinched it tight.

"Real tight," I repeated.

"I know," he shot back, a little frustrated with me, as he got a second belt to go around my wrists and waist.

"Now my feet and tail, Brad," I told him.

"This is getting real creepy, Trae," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Just do it," I retorted.

"I am," he argued back.

I crossed my ankles, but he suggested I knelt down or I might fall. It was a sensible precaution, so I did. I crossed my ankles again and he tied them tight with a tie from his church outfit. Before I could say anything else, he pushed me forward to the floor. I hit the floor with my hard on sticking straight out. Man, did that hurt like hell. I had to burry my face into the floor to keep from screaming out loud. I grunted as best as I could, though.

"What's wrong, Trae?" he asked in genuine concern.

"Nothing, Brad, just finish doing it."

I didn't want him to know I just drove my cock into the floor. It still hurt after a few minutes, but there was nothing I could do about it. He pulled my feet up and tied the excess to my wrists. I was now effectively hog-tied. I wiggled around a little to try and get out of it. He didn't do too bad a job.

I moved a certain way and then the door opened. Our mom walked in the room. Brad stood up and moved away from me to show he had "nothing to do with this". She, of course, saw me laying only a few steps away from her, looking like a prized turkey dinner for Thanksgiving.

"What's going on here?" she asked, somewhere between upset and amused.

"He wanted me to, Mom," Brad instantly confessed before I even opened my mouth.

"I just wanted to know what it felt like, Mom," I said, embarrassed at the whole scene.

"And now?" she asked.

"I know what it feels like," I said, truthfully, as if she needed to be told that.

It took her a few minutes to come up with the next thing to say. To be honest, it was a very long few minutes. I thought I was in some serious trouble. Mercifully, she couldn't see my cock, as I was lying on it. Thanks to her coming in the room, though, it had deflated back to its original stubby.

"Well, Brad, just leave your brother to his fun, then. At least now I know where you'll be when I call you for supper."

With that, she turned and left the room. My brother followed right behind her.

"Wait! I wanna be let out, now!"

"Too bad, Trae," she said from down the hall.

I was now seriously frustrated. I moved around a little to try and get comfortable. It wasn't easy, but I managed to actually do it. Now, I had to find a way to get out of this before Brad got the idea to bring some of his friends over then I would have an even worse time at school.

I pushed my torso a little along the carpeted floor, using my legs, and the belt around my wrists moved downward a little. I pushed my fists hard into my buttocks to try and get a little more slack for the next try and it worked. I moved again and so did the belt down my frame. Three more tries and my wrists were free.

My wrists were tied pretty tight, but thankfully, Brad didn't know too much about knots. I wormed a few fingers around to loosen it. It was also slow going, but I managed to get it loose. A little more pressure and the knot slipped out. I worked a little longer, and it totally came undone. The ropes were then pulled and stretched to allow my hands to slip through them. My feet were let down when my wrists were freed.

The tough one was the belt across my chest. It was pretty tight and no matter how I tried, I couldn't get my hands around to reach the buckle. I had to move my arms in closer behind my back to get enough slack to allow it to slide down my body. A few minutes later, and I had it accomplished. I rolled over and quickly untied my ankles.

Everything was then replaced in his room. I was always a neat child, even though he wasn't. After grabbing my clothes, I quickly left for my own room. I just got inside when I heard the front door open and some young kids flood into the house. I smiled as I got dressed as fast as I could. I was lying on my bed, reading a comic when the door to my room opened.

"How'd you get out?" Brad asked with three of his friends right behind him.

"What're you talking about, Brad?"

"I told you he was lying," a young Trent said behind my brother to one of the others.

Brad got real red-faced and shot me a look. The others turned to go back to his room and he quickly walked to my bed.

"You know what I'm talking about, Trae," he hissed at me.

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have gone and gotten your friends," I snapped back with.

"Don't ever ask me to do that again," he seethed and turned from my room. I knew he was just embarrassed at having it look like he was lying to his friends, but it served him right to try and do that to me. It was bad enough that our mom knew about it; I didn't want the whole flipping world to know also.

That evening at dinner, Brad kept giving me angry looks across the dinner table. It happened one too many times and my dad caught on. He asked what was going on between us and we just looked at each other. But I could always count on my mom to fill in the gaps when it came to something like this.

"And are you going to do something like this again, Trae?" he asked after hearing all the wonderful details from Mom.

"No," I said, thinking that I certainly wasn't going to get Brad to do it again.

As I lay in bed that night, I thought about how it felt to be tied up and semi-helpless. My dick got hard, but the organ was still a mystery to me and I did nothing about it. It did take some time for me to eventually fall asleep that night.

Church the next day was agonizingly slow. I actually thought the minute hand was going backward at one time. The preacher droned on and on for what seemed like a long eternity. If heaven was anything like listening to him preach, I'll take the other place instead. After an equally agonizing lunch with my family, we finally made it home.

Inside of two minutes, I was stripped of my church clothes and dressed in my jeans and shirt. I high-tailed it back to Sloan's house as fast as my young legs could peddle me there. Minding his car in the driveway, I parked my bike on his sidewalk going up to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited. And waited. And waited. I reached up to ring the buzzer again, but I then heard footsteps coming towards it.

"Hello, Daniel," he said, sticking his face out.

"Hello," I answered back. "I know why it feels good."

He smiled and opened the door to let me inside. It was really nice inside. Five bedrooms, three baths, a drawing room (he was an architect), kitchen, dinning room, and a basement filled the two stories of his house. A two car garage was attached to the side of it.

Sloan escorted me to the kitchen and after retrieving me a soda, encouraged me to sit down at the table. After a sip of his, he asked me to explain.

"Because I give up my freedom to do what I want," I said, finally.

"Not bad," he said, smirking a bit. "Anything else?"

I searched for the words before I told him that it made my 'thing' hard.

"You can call it a 'cock' while you're here, Daniel," he said, laughing.

"Why does it do that?"

"Well, because you get excited at the thought or feeling of something sensual," he said, trying to keep the vocabulary simple for me.

"Sensual," I said, not really to him, but he took it that way.

"It means having something to do with one of your senses; in this case your sense of touch. Did you do something about it when it got hard?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, did you stroke it to make it feel good?" he asked, cautiously.

"No. Should I have done that?"

"It's up to you, Daniel, but you can. If you stroke it with your hand, it'll feel pretty good eventually. But as you do, it'll build to something that you don't know about. Don't stop if it scares you; just keep stroking it until you have some really intense feelings."

"Like what?" I had no idea what he was talking about, obviously.

"Like something more powerful than you've ever felt before in your life. Try it tonight. Begin with thinking about how it felt being tied up and keep that on your mind as you stroke your cock. It'll feel wonderful; trust me."

I nodded, telling him that I would try it.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked.

"Go ahead. It doesn't mean I have to answer."

I conceded that point to him.

"Um, are you gay?" I asked, cautiously. He laughed slightly before thoughtfully answering.

"Well, I like to say that I like to keep my options open, Daniel. I don't like labels; they limit a person. I prefer to think of myself as still looking for that one person to spend the rest of my life with. If that's with another man, then so be it."

I nodded again that I understood. We talked some more about mundane things and then he led me on a tour of his house. One of the rooms we visited was a room right underneath his master bedroom. It was hard wood floored and bare, except for some light weapons on the walls.

"This is called a 'dojo'," he said, with obvious pride. "It's where I practice my martial arts."

"You know karate?" I asked, impressed further with him.

"Actually, it's more than karate. My sensei taught me a fighting skill that encompassed a wide range of disciplines, karate included."

"Will you teach me? Please?" I was pleading as best as I could for this.

"We can discuss this later, Daniel. Right now, though, I want you to go ahead and go home. Think about what we've talked about, and then come see me. Can you make it back over here on Tuesday after school?" I nodded. "Good. I'll live up to my end of the bargain then and tell you about what happened on Friday evening."

I agreed and left his house. I sort of played around that day by myself, as usual. I was kind of quiet again at dinner, but Dad didn't make a stink about it at bedtime. I just got my usual tuck into bed. Once the door was closed though, things changed.

I rolled over onto my back and began thinking about Saturday's adventure into being tied up. My cock answered as it the day before. I reached down and slid my pajama pants down my legs. My underpants were next. My cock sprang back up and smacked my pubis as the cloth freed it. With my sleeping garments down around my knees, my hand went right to my stiffy.

I remembered what Sloan said about keeping the tie up event in my mind. I began stroking my stick with just my finger and thumb. I liked it and added another finger. I let out a real quiet moan as my hand began doing its thing on my 'thing'. It did feel good. I couldn't believe that no one ever told me about this.

A few strokes later, I decided to envelope all three inches [7½ cm] of my rod with the stroking hand. The feelings increased and I did get a little scared. I slowed my pace, but recalled what Sloan mentioned about it all. I put it behind me and sped back up. My body's natural tendencies took over then. My hips bucked on their own accord as I worked myself to a fever pitch speed. It just felt too good to stop.

"Oh God!" I said, trying to keep it down, but also unable to stop it.

"Something wrong, Daniel?" I heard my mother ask from the other room.

"No, Mom, I'm fine," I said after a minute or so. Talk about blowing a mood. I frowned at both the interruption and my own carelessness. Undaunted, though, I resumed my previous activity, hopefully with out the vocals.

I rolled to my side facing away from the door and began again. It didn't take too long to get back to the point prior to the disturbance. My hips began bucking in time with my strokes as they knew more about what my body wanted than I did.

A few seconds later, I had to pull the pillow over my mouth as I had to grunt/groan through an intense feeling unlike anything else. It didn't feel like what Sloan was describing, but it felt great. I let it overtake me, but didn't stop my assault on my new play toy.

Not to be distracted by anything else, I was determined to feel what Sloan intended me to experience. I continued onward as best as I knew how. The feeling that I just had had subsided, but I just got the inclination that there was something more. There had to be something I was missing.

Just as my memory recessed back to the day before and my arms trying to get out of the hog-tie, my dick responded by getting even harder. It didn't get bigger, only time and puberty would do that, but it definitely got stiffer. Without any warning whatsoever from my young body, my first ever climax slammed into me. That time, I really had to cover my mouth with the pillow.

I grunted and moaned and thrashed as best as I could while trying to be super quiet. It was the most mind-blowing and confusing feeling I have had up to that point. I knew my parents probably wouldn't approve of what I was enjoying, so I knew that I had to be quiet, but this really rocked my world.

And my new life began...