Angry Old Man

This short story is an abridged depiction of an experience that still leaves me baffled. My wife and I bought a home from an eighty-something widower four years ago. Victor seemed nice enough in spite of the fact that he was selling the home he and his wife had built in the mid-fifties. All was going well with the inspection and closing until a discrepancy in tax records led us to discover the house was actually smaller than the listing. This effected the amount the lender had agreed to. It was now worth a little less and we needed to renegotiate. The seller was more than eager to be done with the process of selling and was cornered into lowering the price. He dropped it by $5000. Then some other contingencies were presented which put him in an awkward position of compromising once again. In the end, he lost nearly $10000 from the asking price and let our agent know he wasn’t happy. The agent was somewhat unscrupulous as it turned out and we felt bad. We never had the opportunity to apologize one on one. We moved in to his home as he settled into his retirement community.

The following spring weather afforded me the chance to tidy up the garage and add some shelves to the unfinished space. I noticed several two by fours lying across the rafters and pulled the ladder out to investigate. There was some sort of wooden lawn chair up there with torn canvas weave. I reached across and pulled down a dusty box that looked as though it housed a microwave oven or a small fridge. I carefully pulled the box to the edge and began to step down the ladder. Dust began to fall along with some mouse droppings as I held my breath. The box was not empty and I had to grab a box knife in order to remove the duct tape.

I realized after cutting through two or more layers of tape this box was not meant to be opened by a casual interest. My curiosity was given more than I could have imagined. The contents were archaic but clearly identifiable: old bondage and discipline gear. This vintage equipment included lots of hand-sewn leather, whips, cuffs and slightly corroded chrome shackles. That was just the start as I came across more snapped undergarments meant for hasty removal. The leather-bound baton was the topper. There were nicks in the finish that showed some hard miles. To whom did these things belong? I could only guess it was the old man since no one else ever lived in the house. Maybe it was stored there by a niece or nephew without his knowing. I was very curious but decided to keep my discovery under wraps. I was tempted to tell my wife but I thought she might throw it all away. I was way too fascinated with this time capsule and paid a visit to the garage for the next three days. I tried the leather mask on. Next came the leather corset and the hardened rubber briefs that split before they were halfway up. I was completely aroused and could not help but masturbate there in the garage with the door closed and the light off.

I wanted some sort of explanation and decided to call Victor.

-

“Hello, Victor?” I asked.

“Who is this?” He said in a gruff manner.

“This is Carl – the guy that bought your house last winter.”

There was momentary silence.

“Well, what do you want?” he asked.

“I…I found a box and some lawn furniture in the garage you might want.”

“Oh, you can keep that stuff. I’ve got no space for that now.”

I knew the box did not register with him so I pressed the issue.

“Well, sir, there’s a box of yours that’s in the rafters. Shall I open it first before you decide…”

“That would be fine,” he interrupted.

I had to make noise as though I was moving the box for the first time. I was not prepared to itemize each object in the box so I took my time.

“There’s a lot of duct tape on this, sir. I need a knife.”

There was no response.

I waited a few seconds for some sort of comment.

“Sir?”

“Leave the box. I’ll come and get that stuff,” he barked.

At that moment he realized the contents and decided to act.

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be here all day.”

He hung up with no goodbye or time frame.

-

I was sort of nervous with the idea of seeing him face to face after such a nasty ordeal. It was clear in his voice that there were hard feelings after all and I prepared myself with an apology.

After taping up the box, I went inside to mix a drink to take the edge off. I had three drinks before his Lincoln pulled up my driveway. My heart pounded in spite of the alcohol’s effect.

I opened the door and greeted him.

His response was somber and he stared straight at the garage.

I dropped the niceties and opened it up.

Victor’s eyes honed in on the box and without hesitation commented on the new tape.

“You opened it,” he announced. “I can see by the shiny tape.”

“Yes. Yes, I did sir. I’m sorry about that, sir.”

He pulled out a pocketknife and proceeded to open the box. I didn’t know what to say but remained at his side with arms crossed.

The box was now open and he began to remove the items. An unlikely smile appeared from beneath his scowl. I was relieved. He didn’t seem embarrassed in the least.

“Hey, this would fit you. Try it on,” He said as he handed me a small leather vest.

I examined the garment for a moment before he asked me again.

I tried to put it on but he reminded me it was to be worn directly against the skin.

I reluctantly removed my shirt and donned the musty item.

“Looks good,” he said.

I feared he would find the leather grommet jock strap that was near the bottom of the box. He must have been looking for it in particular because he spent little time examining the stuff that was on top.

He handed it to me.

“Go on!”

I looked at the skimpy black strap and back at him.

“Try it on, kid!”

I dropped my pants and turned away from him in an attempt to shield both my genitals and buttocks. The spring air wafted through the garage and cooled my testicles as I pulled off my briefs. Victor was sifting through the box as I slipped the strap up my thighs and around my hips. The coolness of the leather and steel grommets gave me a shock and I tried to stifle any feelings I had for the moment.

I was standing there in a tight leather vest and jockstrap when it occurred to me I should shut the garage door. The light from the window changed the ambiance as dust particles settled around us.

Victor had been looking in the box but when I turned to ask him a question his eyes were fixed on my package.

“You look good.”

I gave him a nervous smile and began to reach for my pants.

“Wait. Here’s something to complete the ensemble.”

My heart pounded as he raised a heavy looking set of cuffs toward me. The thing looked slightly medieval in its bulk and sound.

There were four cuffs connected by a couple heavy links.

“Wow. Those are sturdy. Did those belong to Houdini?”

I tried to make light of the situation but he pressed the issue.

“Give me your wrists,” he said in a harmless tone.

“Do you have the key?”

Victor produced the old-fashioned key and turned it around for my satisfaction.

I had no idea what I was doing but my attempt to placate him had put me in a compromising position. I offered him my ankle and then the other as he clicked the cold chrome in place.

I stood with my hands covering my crotch as he raised his hand without looking.

“Give me your wrist!”

“Sir, are you sure?”

“WRISTS!”

I hastily bent forward as his weathered hand forced my arm in place.

Soon both wrists were locked to my ankles with very little give. My calves prevented the cuffs from sliding any farther.

Victor stood up and began to circle me admiringly.

I hadn’t envisioned this elderly man being a threat until that moment.

“Sir, I meant to apologize for everything that happened during the purchase of your home,” I said in desperation.

“Shut up, you little fucker!” he seethed.

I was stunned to hear his tone go from negative to downright nasty.

“Really, sir…our agent really pushed us into…”

*SMACK*!!

The baton hit my buttocks with a vengeance.

He walloped me four more times before I fell forward. I scrambled across the cold floor and into the corner as he reached for my foot and pulled me back into the light.

He stood over the top of me and beat my legs some more. I wanted to cry out but had this fear of anyone seeing me like that.

I was sobbing as he stopped to grab a sawhorse. He flipped me onto my back and dragged my feet over the horse. I shrieked as he proceeded to beat the bottoms of my feet with no abandon. Mercifully, the baton broke in half and tore through the leather sheath. Through my tears I could see the length of his cock grow down the leg of his slacks. He was getting a major charge out of my agony.

Victor stopped momentarily to unfasten his belt. His slacks dropped to the floor right away thus revealing crisp boxer shorts. He scrambled to turn me on my side as if he knew his erection was short lived. He tried to lie down behind me but was haunted by his lack of flexibility. In frustration, he pulled the sawhorse through my cuffed arms and pulled me up and over the wooden structure. There was nothing I could do but struggle and shout but he stuffed a garden glove in my mouth and silenced me.

His rock hard cock wasted no time in penetrating me. There was no lubrication and no apologies. The pain was intense but I forced myself to relax and submit to my violation. In less than a minute Victor had climaxed and withdrew his semi-erect cock. I looked back to see a slight panic on his face as he looked around the garage. He pulled his pants up and grabbed his box. The light of the garage door opening filled the room before it closed again as I sat in pain and silence. A moment later the door opened and a key slid across the floor.

For some reason I waited for his car to drive away before I decided to move. I unfastened the cuffs and tossed them above the rafters. I carried my clothes against my body as I made a run toward the house then looked out the window to make sure no one had seen me. I was startled by my own reflection as I headed toward the bathroom. The full-length mirror revealed an inviting specimen. I could see the old man’s attraction as my cock grew within the leather pouch. A strange feeling swept over me as I gripped my cock and savored the bruises that covered my battered body. Finally, it was my turn. Some boxes are best kept closed.