Wow. That whole oral sex thing took on a life of its own, didn’t it? I may return to that later, but in the meantime…

Confession time. Sort of. This gets a bit weird, just so you know…

Back in my college days, I probably had 30 different roommates. I always had at least 2 other guys (sometimes 4) that I shared a dorm room or apartment with. It was just the transient nature of things. It was a good way to meet different people, but I didn’t always get along with all of them.

Maybe it was my junior year when I shared a student apartment with 3 other guys that I had one of the oddest relationships that I have ever had. Smitty was a skinny redhead who might have weighed 100 pounds soaking wet yet was 5’11 or so. He just had an odd metabolism, because he could eat like crazy but never gained weight. Meanwhile, I was gaining weight and was up close to 200 pounds and 6’1″.

Smitty had brains enough to be a freshman physics major, but not a lot of social skills. He had an interest in girls but few had interest in him. Since we were at a university where engineering ruled, it wasn’t easy to find many women to be interested in any of us. So we spent a lot of time and energy entertaining each other with various nerdy-type games he introduced us to. But he was annoying. Smitty had a penchant for saying or doing stupid stuff. Being a little lightweight, it never took him long to get drunk. And he was always a stupid drunk.

It doesn’t matter so much what he did to bug the shit out of us (like peeing on our beds), so much as how we reacted. The other two guys wanted to take him out and beat the crap out of him. I, on the otherhand, decided on something a little different. I convinced the other guys that punching his lights out might be too dangerous since he looked so small and frail that I was afraid it might do serious damage. So the other guys would help me wrap Smitty up into an old carpet so he looked like a human burrito with just his head sticking out. Then I’d just lay on him, squashing him while rubbing my knuckles on his head or tweeking his ears or tickling the back of his neck.

Smitty hated it. Sort of. In the course of the one semester before he moved out, I discovered that Smitty was a masochist. I didn’t know the name of it at the time, I just knew that he kept doing these stupid things that would earn him a carpet wrap. I also knew that while it took 3 of us to get him in it the first time, it got easier and easier during subsequent wrappings to the point where he quit fighting at all and his protestations were only verbal and weak at that.

Once wrapped and laying on the floor with my weight on him (and sometimes another guy, although this also decreased over time) and me giving him knuckle burns, he would roar out, try to kick his feet and try to butt my head with his. It was usually so loud, I’m surprised we never had neighbors or the campus police knocking on our door.

In order to be freed and get the tortures to cease, all Smitty had to do was say three words. “I’ll be good.” That’s it. As soon as he said these words, I’d get up and allow him to free himself. Like clockwork. It was just another way of of saying “Uncle.” It was, in fact, Smitty’s safeword(s) before we even knew what such things were.

As our sessions increased in number, they began to change in nature. I actually looked forward to them, and apparently Smitty did too. At least he seemed to always find ways to provoke a good wrapping at convenient times when there was always at least 30 minutes available.

While in top of Smitty, I would often hold his head down to keep him from flailing it around. I would talk softly into his ear, “I’ll be good.” Smitty would roar “NO!” and I would continue to put my full weight onto his body burrito, giving him knuckle burns and holding his head to the floor.

He would roar, holler and yell as the session wore on. I would intermittently softly say into his ear “I’ll be good.” and he would roar back defiantly “NO,NO,NO!” thrashing about with new vigor which only increased my resolve. I was almost afraid of hurting him, he carried on so, especially in the early days. It seemed so simple to say those three words. But Smitty would hold out until he finally could take no more. By this time, we were both pretty tired. Sometimes he said it quietly and sometimes he’d say it loudly. “I’ll be good.”

I’d get up and get some water. In later sessions, I’d get us both water. Smitty would disentangle himself from the carpet, rolling it up and putting it into the corner for the next time, emerging hot and sweaty.

Sometimes Smitty would say “I’ll be good.” only to shout a defiant “NO!” as soon as I got up. After a couple times of that, I ended up letting him go anyway. Firstly because I was too tired to play anymore and secondly it hardly seemed fair to work him over again. It was as taxing emotionally as it was physically. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I didn’t get some kind of charge out of it.

While the carpet treatment went on, our relationship sort of improved. We didn’t fight or argue. He’d do something especially annoying and I’d just get the carpet, roll him up and we were on. There were times when he’d pester me, and I’d tell him I’d have to get him later as I was busy at the moment. He accepted that, and would occupy himself elsewhere.

I know this all sounds odd as hell. It was weird to me, too, not knowing a thing about D/s at the time. I was uncomfortable with it on many levels. First, I knew I wasn’t gay but I wasn’t so sure about Smitty. At the same time, I did feel conflicted about being somewhat turned on. It produced an adrenaline rush of a sort. Only another dominant would probably understand it, although I can’t speak for anyone else. You might be creeped out by reading it. I get kinda creeped writing it. But it was an important revelation to me and it’s only recently that I came to realize that I had and probably always have had a sort of sadistic dominant side. Who knows what might have happened if I had a little more knowledge back then? For one thing, I probably wouldn’t have moved out. At the end of the semester, I moved into a condo with a couple of other guys. It was further from campus, but infinitely nicer and roomier. I never had the sort of conflicts I had to put up with Smitty.

I also would have sought a more submissive woman and better respected and treated her when I found her. I eventually did end up with one, but was still so in the dark about kinks and BDSM that I was clueless what to do exactly when she did tell me she wanted it rough and hard. It’s only been in the past 3 or so years that I’ve begun to explore this new area.

I might have seen Smitty around campus later on, but never talked to him again after moving out. I heard from one of the other guys that he moved back to the dorms the following year.


4 Responses to Smitty

  1. Dewdrop says:

    That was weird, although I have to say that it more made me chuckle rather than gave me the creeps.

  2. aphron says:

    I’m not sure what to say. I see you in a different light now.

  3. C-Marie says:

    Well D~ I suppose all I can say is it all has to start somewhere and it all has to be discoverd at some time.
    It didn’t creep me out either….

  4. So Gone says:

    It didn’t creep me out, just kind of made me think of things differently.

    And in response to your comment in Tajalude’s blog – how do you put someone in a cage who would never do so willingly?

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