I was an 'accident' I guess, and my older brother was a full five years older than me, and a bit of a bully! Actually more than a bit! Anyway, when I was eleven, he was sixteen, and our parents who were outdoor 'freaks' always ready to go camping or cycling, regularly left us at home, with him "in charge" Big mistake! He had a couple of equally nasty pals, the same age, and they fell into the habit of tying me up, and torturing me with some really imaginative techniques, looking back on it. I was quite small, and they made a very effective strait-jacket out of an old rubberized nylon parka, riveting two halves of a heavy belt to the ends of the sleeves, and substituting a fine chrome chain for the hood draw-cord, which enabled them to draw the hood down tightly, until it tightly sheathed my entire face and head, and the opening was just about an inch in diameter, right over my mouth. I was kept almost permanently like this, during the summer months, when our parents were off in the wild somewhere, and tortured, quite cruelly. They loved to wank me to the point of near-insanity, unable to make it stop, when it got unbearable and they wouldn't let me come! They loved my beggings and pleadings, and writhings and buckings, and two things happened. One, I realized I was starting to REALLY enjoy these happenings, and Two, if I enjoyed it, they wouldn't do it. So, I got real inventive with my feigned "discomfort/dislike/disgust " reactions, to ensure the long-term continuation of the "torture" which grew ever more of an addiction to me. Just when I was afraid they would see through my efforts, someone told them how great it was to have your cock sucked, and suddenly this was my sole reason to exist, in their book. The small hole over my mouth turned out to be just perfect for this purpose, and they took turns, all the while upping the other "torture" accordingly, as their hormones went crazy. This new development turned out to be a small price to pay, for the continuation of the delightful 'torture' so, whether it was just him, at night, in our shared bedroom, or all of them at weekends, or summer recess, my life was complete, ad my own raging hormones satiated, reluctantly enough to make it addictive. Looking back all these years, I can see how I ended up the bondage-slave to a group of middle-aged rich guys, who perpetuate my addiction happily, also sure that it remains "torture" to me! I think I will always be addicted to this, and really don't care! Everyone is happy, and especially me!