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The House of Gord Part-1
Discover the history behind Gord and his amazing bondage inventions.
Foreword & Interview by JG-Leathers
20 Mar, 2005
f you’re unfamiliar with the House Of Gord web site and it's progenitor GORD’, the interview that follows will give you a chance to enjoy the evolution of a classic artist of the scene, right  from his earliest  days  to  the  present.
Gord is a man with a wide breadth of experience in the vanilla world in addition to being a multi-skilled artist and inventor of things kinky. Fortunately for us all, he's been able to develop his many talents more fully in the last years and the results of his somewhat-bent imagination can be seen in all their glory on his site.  We  know  you’ll find the following article to be a light-hearted, funny and informative one, and that you’ll be more than tempted to go to his site to see the huge quantity of images and video's. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.
This interview was conducted between Gord and I early in January, 2005. We have known each other a long time, having begun our friendship even before the advent of the Internet; communicating at first by (horrors!!!), snail mail.  Obviously  we  found  kindred spirits in each other’s
approaches to the world of B&D/S&M, and even though not as closely associated now as in the past, we’ve continued to carry on with our separate explorations and still maintain a strong, viable friendship and connection.
Gord has always amazed me with his evil inventiveness as well as with his sense of mission. Not that  he’s  totally  altruistic  about  his  endeavors,  for  he certainly gets enjoyment from what he does, but his general approach is that of a sensualist who enjoys bringing pleasure to his delightful and beautiful female ‘victims’. It has always been my experience and sure knowledge that Gord is, in all respects, the epitome of a gentle man. His caring, attention, and constant concern for the welfare and safety of his models is something that everyone in the scene should emulate.  
Enjoy!
 

JG-L: OK Mate, tell the world when you first became interested in tying up women?
GORD: My first recollection of kink was at the age of five (he grins from ear to ear at fond memories). I was watching a young female university student playing the part of Dick Whittington in a pantomime. She was dressed in a tight body fitting, short tunic coat that only came a quarter way over her ass, and seamed net tights with high-heeled calf boots. I knew that I wasn't supposed to look at ladies butts, but I just couldn't keep my eyes off her ass as it flexed and moved around. I guess that was my first erection, but I had no idea why I felt so good in the crotch region. I can remember thinking it would be so nice to have her tied up so that I could just look at her ass as long as I liked. She kept moving around the stage and most annoyingly hiding her fantastic butt from view.
JG-L: Do you know why the idea of placing women in helpless bondage situations appeals to you?
GORD: Didn't even know why it felt good to see women tied up  and  wearing  net  tights,  I  just knew it did.  Didn't even know
what sex was back then. But now, I guess it’s a combination of the respect for women I grew up with, and also a sense that they are by no means the wimps of the sexual divide. In fact, I think women rule by proxy. So, to find one of these powerful creatures who is kind enough to let you share the front seat occasionally by letting you tie them up is the real deal. Of course, one can always enjoy the prolonged pleasure of stroking and caressing these nubile creatures for much longer, if she can't get away.
The next notable milestone in my march towards kink-dom came at the age of 12. John, my best buddy; and a 14 year old, drop dead stunner called Linda , used to play cowboys and Indians. I should mention that John was never really into bondage and I always seemed to be the one that eagerly accepted Linda ’s requests. John just wanted to grope those boobs and often annoyed me by diving in and grabbing a handful of tit before I could finish tying her. (The guy just had no style).
Linda always insisted on being the captured Squaw, and as a result always seemed to be tied up. In fact she insisted on it. One day, I had her tied in a real tight hogtie, and by then I had started to experiment with more restrictive ideas. I had a rope around her waist, through the crotch and her wrists and ankles connected to it. John and I had built a fire and Linda was just lying there tied up and gagged. Suddenly she started to make some ungodly sounds through the gag then began thrashing around and arching in the ropes, and even more scary, her eyeballs seemed to roll up into her head and she had this real crazy look.
John and I were crapping bricks and we rushed over and started to untie her, but she seemed to be fighting us. As soon as the gag came out she ripped us a new asshole for untying her! We were stunned and had no idea why she was so pissed at us. As it turned out, I was 16 before I finally figured out that I had witnessed my first female orgasm at the age of 12. It’s another mental image that is as clear today as the day it happened, and is right up there with the student’s net-clad mincing ass cheeks on that stage. Jeez! That image STILL gets me horny. I guess it was a missed opportunity and I should have jumped on stage and grabbed a handful right there and then. But I digress!
I don’t know what happened to Linda when she moved away, but I figure she went looking for bondage kinks, and probably has no idea of the impact that day had on my life. Years later, as I realized what I had witnessed, it changed from being something scary, to something that was incredibly beautiful.
I should also mention that 16 was the fateful year … I saw my first bondage book. That moment is also burned into my memory. I was sitting astride my first motorbike (A Norton Dominator 650 cc). It was a street called Stanley Street in Wolverhampton, and I had the most massive stiffy I had ever experienced. I had just found my first adult book shop and bought a book called Citadel of Suffering. Feverishly I was scanning the pages for the illustrations of these incredibly curvy ladies in really tight bondage situations.
Suddenly the light bulb went on. Until then, I had basically lived with the fear that I was some sort of crazy who was growing up to be a murderer. The book gave me a new insight into reality. If books were being printed that portrayed exactly what I found exciting, then there must be millions of people out there just like me, or they wouldn’t bother to print them. The most important reasoning in this was that if that were the case, then there must be an acceptable outlet for my kink, otherwise bound dead women would be littering the streets. My mind went back to Linda . She wasn’t a one-off event. There must be many women who apparently LIKED being tied up and tormented! The life-long search for like-minded kinks and willing ladies began that day.
JG-L: Do you have other areas of interest within the scene?
GORD: Not really. Everything sort of revolves around women in super tight clothes or suits and extreme bondage, especially if I have managed to trigger an orgasm in them. An orgasming woman, restrained by bondage is just mind-blowing for me. The energy of the orgasm seems to implode on them with no way to dissipate it.
JG-L: How about other hobbies like golf, travel, etc.?
GORD: Many years ago I raced motorcycles. Then I used do a lot of combat shooting. When I returned from South Africa to UK again and got back into bike racing and racing dragsters. Then I grew up and figured I was mortal after spending 18 months in hospital after a spectacular over estimation of the cornering capabilities of a vintage motorbike, whilst racing in a charity race at Mallory Park , when I almost became a charity case vegetable myself.
JG-L: Are you a leg, breast, or a butt man? Can you explain the answer, or is it just “there”?
GORD: I guess all of it. If anything I look at the butt first. Has to be nicely rounded and firm, preferably wearing net tights or some other tight garment.
JG-L: Like me and so many others in the scene, you’ve spent some time in the military. Now, I know that you’ve got some absolutely hilarious tales of daring-do while there, and probably don’t want to relate the stories at this point, but, do you feel that it contributed to your hobby? What sort of things did it give?
GORD: It didn't contribute anything to my liking of bondage. In fact some real life combat incidents were so close to bondage, but NOT consensual. I actually felt confused for a long time that I could still enjoy bondage without mentally referring to other not so nice things I saw done by terrorists in the name of warfare.
JG-L: After you were done with Her Majesty, what happened next? Where did you go and what did you do?
GORD: Initially I started my own electrical contracting business and it was going well. We were making control equipment for Rolls Royce and figured we were in the big time. Then came the fateful crash that left me 30,000 pounds in the hole. The company rose from the ashes, but I never got any money back.
Next, I started a haulage business and ran semi's from the Midlands to London and back. After that, I returned to my trained profession and became an engineer at a steel works, then finally joined a German scrap metal processing manufacturer. Initially, I was a field engineer who went out all over the world troubleshooting, then I became Works Manager at their UK plant, and finally I started designing new machines for them. Five years later, I was approached by a South African company to go out as their chief engineer.
That lasted about three years, until I accused the Chairman and owner of the company of gross stupidity in his Hell-bent mission to buy equipment from a guy who had already ripped him off twice with crappy stuff. I got fired for doing my job of being his engineering advisor. Maybe the statement, “Either you’re bending over, or he is.” was a little bit over the top. Footloose and fancy free and without work, I started my own engineering company in Durban then later expanded it to a second company in Johannesburg.
JG-L: OK. I understand that the unstable political situation in SA had a great deal to do with your departure but upon your return to the UK , what happened then?
GORD: Well, when I returned to UK , it was in the middle of the biggest recession for years. I was unable to get most of my money out of Africa and so landed back in the UK with thousands of other engineers; all fighting for few jobs.
I couldn’t afford a real house, so we took on an old Welsh barn, with planning permission, and converted it into a massive home. But things got worse and worse, work-wise, and eventually in desperation I decided to write a kink book and see if I could sell it. A kink book company bought it and the others I wrote after that, but the pay-back was lousy.
Eventually, I took the plunge and plowed every last cent into a copying machine and a computer and started to publish myself. Well actually, it was my last penny and lots of government grant enterprise pennies. The first Gord books and magazines were printed on a Minolta photocopier, hand-collated and stapled, and all this in a farm pigsty that still had the troughs and stalls and smelt like crap.
JG-L: Where did the ‘Gord’ name come from and how long has the House of Gord been in business?
GORD: I was reading a Bob Bishop (Fanny Hall) story; and she kept referring to this one Dutch guy called Goord, as a “fat, pear-shaped ass hole”. I was the total opposite, so it seemed sort of ironic to pick that name. I later dropped the second “o” and it became just Gord. House of Gord actually started in 1991, but was first a registered company in UK in 1992.
JG-L: Before the widespread use of the Internet, didn't you publish books and a magazine? What happened to these?
GORD: Initially, House of Gord was only a book company, but the Internet and a bad relationship with an ex-partner killed book sales. Now, books are very low in return and high in costs. We still have stock of many titles, but at this time it’s not financially practical to reprint many of the older ones. In actual fact, the book company is often supported by the website. It doesn't make a profit, and more often than not struggles to break even. We basically keep it going for old time’s sake and to keep employment for some people.
JG-L: Gord, you and I have worked together on a few projects and I can remember many times over the first years after we met, when you were staying here at the house, that you were beavering away in my workshop, making all sorts of weird and  wonderful  devices.  One  of  them,  as I recall,
was ‘the crate that devoured all the hardware stores in the Lower Mainland’. Where did you get your skills making bondage gear? Weren't you a mechanical engineer, and don’t you also have electrical engineering credentials?
GORD: I was originally an Electrical Engineer (AMI Mech. E) (Member of the Royal Institute of Electrical Engineers), but, over the years different situations required the acquisition of different skills. Next, I re-trained in hydraulics, then specialized in hydro-logic controls and pneumatics. Later, when in Africa, where one is expected to be all things to whatever the employer wants, I got more deeply involved in the heavy mechanical engineering I had overseen as works manager at the UK plant. Then, I was asked to undertake civil engineering.
The classic story there was when I was led out to see “the new plant”. They took me to a bog, in a place called Isipingo and when I asked where the plant was they said, “Well, here! This is where we want you to build it!” To say I was gobsmacked could well be an understatement. What the hell did I know about floating huge machinery bases on unstable bog? Well, I just got out the books and learned.
I’m told that the bases I built are still there, much to the consternation of a civil engineering and architect firm who have since drained the ground and tried to blow them up five times, (without success) so as to build an apartment block with underground car parking. The advice I gave them was re-design the apartment block with another floor and forget trying to get those bases out. They’re over a metre thick, with four layers of 40 mm re-bar, on 150 mm centres, both ways. They’re never going to break and will cost millions to smash with jack hammers.
JG-L: I don’t suppose you’d care to relate the tale of you messing about with a 600 ampere control panel then and nearly blowing yourself up?
GORD: Actually an 800 amp Danielli fuse switch. Do you have to dig up all my ... er ... shall we say, less than spectacular brain fart moments? (smile of silliness crosses the man’s face) Briefly, some Italian nit-whit electrician installed an 800 amp fuse switch upside down, then to cover the mistake, sooner than turn it back over, he removed the ‘earthing’ bars that were designed to ground the dead side and discharge capacitors when the switch was opened.
Had he left them in, the switch would have exploded when the circuit was opened and the live blades came back into contact with Earth. I never noticed they were missing as I was not all that conversant with this make of switch; and so opened the switch and started to remove the fuses. Everything was going fine. Not even a tingle, as I was standing on a rubber mat ... and then the end of the spanner hit the side of the cubicle. The next thing I knew, there was a deafening explosion and a brilliant light that temporarily blinded me. I was blasted backwards and chunks of metal were flying all over the place. People who witnessed it say that the arc drawn off jumped from the panel as it blew apart and latched onto me, then switched again when I flew backwards.
Anyway, I was dazed but alive, but felt as if someone had hit me with a sledgehammer. I tried to get up the next thing I knew, a huge and harry, garlic breathed steel worker had jumped on me and started trying to give me the kiss of life. That was probably the greatest risk to life in the whole incident!
The next big mistake came as partial vision returned, and I looked down at my hands that were hurting like hell. They were charcoaled like black, shiny glass. They got that way because the heat of the flash luckily was so intense and so fast, it carbonized the outer layer of flesh and that then protected the deeper layers. So what did this idiot do????
I flexed my fingers and instantly the entire surface of my hand cracked and started pouring blood. In addition, I’d lost all my hair, facial and otherwise, and my finger nails had been melted into blobs that looked like molten plastic. When I saw the damage, I couldn't figure how so much power had been available without the incoming circuit breakers tripping at 800 amps.
The entire control room panel, some 15 or 20 feet long, was flattened, and there were just three molten stubs of the bus-bars rising out of the floor. It transpired that the same nit-wit had left a maintenance locking bar in the circuit breaker mechanism. The air-operated circuit breaker was what we call “racked in” or “racked out”, so that the risk of losing fingers during maintenance was negated if it operated. This bar could be inserted with the switch closed to check contact pressures, and that is how it had been left ... racked IN! In effect, there was no over-current protection between me and the 5000 amp sub-station ... and my spanner created a dead short to earth on the transformer!
JG-L: Jesus! Talk about one lucky son of a bitch! Do you clank when you walk from the Horse shoes embedded up your ass? Anyhow, enough of the work-related stuff and on to some of your kinky adventures while in SA? Can you tell us about some of those?
GORD: Well, I once decided to try a long distance bondage gig. It transpired that I had to make an extra run from Durban to Jo’burg, but with an empty truck (About 700  K  in  distance).  So  I mounted Gwen in the cargo area on her back frame, stretched the tonneau cover over the top, and hit the road. I was about 100 clicks short of Jo’burg at a place called Heidleburgh when I got a back wheel flat. So, there I am, truck jacked up and changing a wheel with a bound chick in the back, when a speed cop rolled up on his bike. He spent around 15 minutes leaning on the back of the truck talking as I finished. All that time he had no idea what was in the truck and I was “praying” that Gwen wouldn’t make a sound or move. Luckily she didn’t; but I had the slider window open at the back of the cab, and shortly after I got moving again, I could hear peals of muffled laughter coming from the back.
Another notable incident would be the day I used bondage to get my ass out of a pending penalty clause sling. I was the chief engineer and contractor overseeing a massive multi-site operation in Benoni and Brakpan. The job was to disassemble several smaller steel works and re-assemble them all in one huge single
facility some 50 miles away. The job was going belly up. Two of the sites were so far behind, I knew I was facing huge penalty clauses, but I had one Ace up my sleeve. I had gotten to know the two foreman on those sites pretty well, and I’m not sure how it actually came up, but it transpired that both of these guys, (George and Alan) were bondage kinks. They didn’t know I was also because I was pretty closeted in those days.
So I hatched a plan. I told them to be at my house at 1 pm Sunday, exact to the minute and they would see something that they really would not want to miss. They were mystified, but I managed to convey that it was once in a lifetime thing without giving anything away.
At EXACTLY 1 pm , they rolled up the drive and I invited them in. They had no idea what to expect as I showed them around the house, pointing out the lounge, dining room, Jacuzzi, and all that, then I took them upstairs to my bar/study. This was a huge thatched roof house with open beams going up 15 to 20 feet to the apex. I casually pointed out the bar, then as I turned away, I nonchalantly pointed upward as if in after thought, and said “Oh, and that’s my wife.” Gwen was sheathed in red latex, hooded, gagged, arm-sheathed, wearing high heeled calf boots, posture collar, and mounted on a support back frame with ten or more super tight leather straps. The whole thing was suspended high up in the apex.
George and Alan stopped dead and just stood there gobsmacked. They couldn’t get their eyes off her and both were clearly getting real horny. So, I turned back and offered to lower her, which I did. Then I suggested that they touch her if they didn’t think she was real. I have no idea how Gwen didn’t crack up laughing as these two guys reached out and stroked her with trembling hands, eyeballs bugging out of their heads. She said afterwards that she thought Alan was going to have a heart attack.
Anyway, Gwen was released from the frame and sent to change and she reappeared a short while later while we were having a drink in the bar. She was in a full net body suit, and I duly rigged her up in full wrought iron, custom made slave chains and shackles, then she knelt at the feet of the two guys on the sofa. THAT is when I brought up the problems of the sites they were running, being way behind.
I finished my plea for more speed with the comment: finish on time and my company gets a bonus that I can use for a real good bondage party, and the guys that helped me win the bonus would certainly be invited. At that, I tossed Alan Gwen’s leash and excused myself with the words, “Keep an eye on my slave Alan, I just have to go out and get some cigarettes.” Alan was shaking, and was still shaking when I got back.
Meantime, Gwen was getting real horny and her nipples got hard and had sneaked through the net suit and were sticking out like hat pegs. George was totally mesmerized. The long and the short of that day was that the two sites caught up so rapidly that George and Alan were able to go and assist on other sites. We finished the contract ahead of schedule, won $300,000 in bonus and the bondage party was a blast.
JG-L: Gord, I’ve seen the pictures of some of your original Horse Women harnesses and carriages and they are beautifully designed and your execution was incredible. How did you get interested in that particular field?
GORD: I have no idea, but I'm guessing in the same way as you, through our much lamented friend John Willie and people like Stanton and Jim. However, my penchant for wiggling female butts probably had a lot to do with it also. Once the chick is harnessed up, one can relax in style on the cart and watch that hard-working butt for as long as you can keep her going.
JG-L: You’ve told me, but I don’t think the folks out there on the Internet understand your views about employing pleasure. Can you give them a capsule explanation?
GORD: No one in a consensual relationship ever really controlled a woman by force or coercion. The two factors do not really equate with consensual, if employed without regard to the female's actual real life rights. However, if you use their Achilles heel against them, you can actually win.
Women by nature “just wanna have fun”. So, if you use their own immense capacity for pleasure (their Achilles heel) as a tool against them, you can gain control. So far I have not heard one single complaint about controlling by pleasure. And boy is it fun to see these gals loose it!
JG-L: OK, given those thoughts, what’s your philosophy on the safety of bondage play, and the relationship between the play partners?
GORD: Safety is paramount. Basically, we play with lethal situations, especially in suspension, and all efforts must be made to negate the risk. But, at the end of the day, there will always be risks. I have to balance this against the sort of risks one takes to get an adrenalin ‘high’ from climbing, hang-gliding, skiing, or any action sport, and I would say that with a little thought and planning, potentially lethal bondage games can be brought way below those sports in regard to risk factors.
As for the relationship between the players ... There has to be total trust by the bottom in the ‘top’s’ ability to protect them when they give up their own ability for self-preservation. In return, there has to be total responsibility and dedication by the ‘top’, for the bottom. Nothing else exists until that person's full ability is returned to them. This does not just apply to suspension ... there are dangers in all bondage play.
One guy asked me to sell him a Pichard Cage, but he happened to mention it was his intent to put his wife in it each day, then go to work. This moron never even considered the fact that his dungeon was underground in a very old house and therefore not on any county plans; then in addition, it was sound-proofed. If he had a fatal fender bender going to work, his wife would have died a horrible, lingering, agonizing death in that inescapable cage.
Now, we have done this lone stuff, but with extreme safety measures in place. By lone, I mean just me and my wife. For a start, we always have an outside ‘safety’ person. When we start the fun, we ring that person and tell them it is starting and set a maximum time of
 
THE GORD FEM CAR
Click HERE to download and play a video (Windows Media format, 10MB file size)
 
play. If we do not ring back to confirm that she is out of the situation at the end of that time, they ring us. If there is no answer, it is their job to ring 911, then get themselves over there as quickly as they can manage it. I could have had a heart attack, fallen and bashed my head in, or anything could have happened. Of late, we have considered using a panic button linked to the alarm company that is within her reach, as an added precaution. But I think that could be Serena’s kink showing through. She likes Firemen and has mooted the point that they always get to emergency calls first. I’m figuring she likes the idea of a big handsome, rugged, axe-wielding fireman beating down the door and coming to her “rescue” ??
As you know John, the hallowed days of a crated and bound Blanche, touring Vancouver on the back of a flatbed truck for four and half hours, was the result of many hours of planning and calculations on safety, back-up crews, rescue crews and you name it. And STILL, we forgot one thing in all that, a damned catheter. If you remember, Blanche was set to kill us both when she finally got out with a bursting bladder. But she forgave us, eventually!
Click HERE for the House of Gord web site.
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