Today I was doing a little spring cleaning, digging into nooks and crannies to root out the winter cobwebs. This is an old house my papaw built in 1936 and it’s impossible to keep it dusted, so I don’t get dust mice - I get dust mammoths.

As I was clearing off a bookshelf to wipe away the skunge, I came across a VHS cassette - that’s a video tape, for all you young’uns. It had no label on it and I hadn’t the first idea what was on it, or remembered putting it there. It had to have been years ago.

But as it happened, I had also just dusted off an old VHS player in an unused bedroom, so I decided to satisfy my curiosity, and see if a) the thing still played, and if so, b) what had bee recorded on it.

It played.

For the next half-hour, I sat in astonishment and relived the day a Dominant bound me to a Saint Andrew’s Cross in my cellar and systematically cut off all my clothes with his knife while he sent pictures out to other men vis his cell phone. It was fascinating, because it was the very first time I had ever encountered poppers, and he poppered me up pretty liberally, as I now realize.

The video camera had been set up to record the whole process. I watched myself gradually become his object of debauchery, slowly, as he wore stripped away my clothes, my thinking ability, and my dignity.

He remained fully clothed the whole time. From time to time he would run the point of his knife against my skin, just to suggest my vulnerability to him. He cut my clothes of in sections at a time, stopping to take pictures and send them, and tell me about the kind of men who would see them.

He would address his audience from time to time, talking about me - I don’t know whether there were men listening in real time, or whether he was narrating for video. He finally removed the last shred of cloth from my groin and exposed my penis, showed it to the camera at various angles. Then the advanced on me and began running his hands over me, and kissing my open mouth long and deeply because he could.

And then, he turned off the camera. Because he had finished with his scene. He hadn’t fucked me, or jacked me off in bondage, or inserted anything into my ass, or asked for a blowjob - that was his scene.

I have the tape because it was made with a camera belonging to me - he didn’t take it with him. I have no idea what kind of images or footage ended up on his phone, or who might have seen me get used that way, get forced to admit on camera that I wanted a man to strip me naked and use me - or whether no one saw it at all and he was just play-acting for his scene.

But I saw it. And watching that tape was like being bound to that cross all over again. It’s called VHS for a reason, I guess…Very Hot Scene.