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The Big Turn-off

Since I was running around chasing butterflies in the park and building sand castles at the beach, the sight of bound women thrilled me. Whenever one appeared on TV, my little heart skipped a beat or two. I sat in front of the screen, riveted, with no idea why.

Yet, I never asked why. That might seem odd at first. Like any boy, I asked about a lot of things. Mom, do I have to go to cousin Joey's house? Dad, why are there so many stars in the sky? But I'd never have asked, "Why do bound women excite me?" I'd never have thought of asking. Even then, the matter seemed to be something very personal and private, my strange little secret---not something you would tell your parents.

Only years later, when I was well past puberty, did I learn that some people practiced bondage to spice up their sex lives, desiring to tie up their significant others or be tied up by them. Some people stigmatized this practice, calling it a perversion. The association of bondage with sex engendered a whole genre of exhibitionism showing young women in various stages of undress, bound and gagged in positions that went way beyond the imagination of the average kidnapper, burglar or bank robber.

None of this appealed to me. Yet, the sight of bound women has never lost its thrill. To the contrary, I thrill all the more to it as I grow older. By contrast, the obscene associations that the "bondage industry" has attached to it turn me off. They always have.

The sight of a bound woman remains, for me, exciting enough in itself. Sex, moreover, should be kept private, between the two individuals who engage in it. When you broadcast it, you demean it; you turn it into something distasteful and degrading for everyone involved, including the viewer. Linking the sight of a bound woman with sex is like smearing a masterpiece with dung: a big turn-off.



Seiler Seiler 56-60, M 1 Response Jul 9, 2012

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I agree! The act of bondage alone turns me on, which is why I prefer the models in clothing (with pantyhose, if you please).

To excite me bondage must occur within a dramatic context, such as a scene you might encounter in a suspense story or soap opera. On the other hand, the context must not be defined by another element that would divert attention away from the bondage, for example, excessively graphic sexual behavior, torture, or death. Any of such elements would be so distracting or disturbing that it would eclipse the excitement of the bondage completely.

For me an ideal bondage scene might revolve around an actress playing the beautiful, 40 year-old wife of a fabulously wealthy brain surgeon on a soap opera like "General Hospital." Kidnapped for ransom, she appears, at least for the time being, safe, calm, composed, even comfortable, roped to a bedroom chair.

The camera, usually focused on her face, occasionally dips down, granting a glimpse of her legs. This hints at the extent to which she is bound, which, as it happens, is quite a thorough extent. Her calves, tied together just below the knees, appear in brown nylons. They're incredibly sexy that way---at least to me.

Only once, at the end of the scene, does the camera pull back, providing a view of the whole woman. It is a delectable view, showing her arms tied firmly behind the chair, ropes embracing her above and below the bust---she's a voluptuous woman---and her feet, still in the high heels in which she was whisked away from the charity event she was hosting, tied back beneath the seat. It is obvious that only an escape artist of Houdini's caliber would have a chance of getting out of her predicament.

Passively she waits---What else can she do?---while her abductor, a man in a black mask, approaches her. He orders her to "Open your trap!" While she complies, he stuffs and tapes her mouth.

He departs. The bedroom door closes and a click sounds, indicating the door is now locked.

The camera once again zooms in on the captive's face, her eyes closed, her head drawn back. The gag---a broad, white band of cloth---grips her lower face from chin to nostrils. She moans softly into it.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, her husband stumbles into the driver's seat of his car, next to him, a briefcase containing the ransom payment.

Now, THAT'S a story and incidentally---or perhaps not so incidentally---bondage at its best.