Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult (10 page)
So the tacks work terribly well. Just enough sticks through the liner to tickle at times, penetrate the skin while I'm walking fast or jostled in the metro. I must be careful to keep the tacks clean and sterile so that I don't get infections, but so far that has been okay. One man I was dating grabbed my tit one night as we left the cinema and I screamed so loudly that he didn’t know what to do. I told him that if he was up for it, I'd let him take me home and I'd show him what he'd done. Reluctantly, he went with me and was astonished when he saw the multiple bloody little pin-pricks in my left breast. Full of apologies, he asked if there was any way I could forgive him and I let him tie and fuck me all night long, which settled his obligation and my problem simultaneously.
Off the subject a bit there, wasn't I? Anyway, there is one position that I seem to always go back to: It's simple because it doesn't use a lot of complicated devices and I can get into it quickly. I have a set of leg irons hanging from a chain that goes to a small electric winch mounted on a strong beam on the ceiling of the closet. I wear a lovely pair of black patent leather heels that have towering height and which I know will start to hurt like blazes after only a few minutes. I am naked and squeaky clean as I close and lock the door from the inside, I cuff my ankles together and fasten the chain between them to a recessed ring in the hardwood floor. Around my neck is a custom-made stainless steel, padded collar. From a D ring welded on the back of the collar is a freezer-frozen, two-piece chain about 15 inches long. The two lengths of chain are joined in the middle by a short PVC tube. At the end of the chain is a handcuff key. The chain is in two four-inch long segments joined inside the frozen PVC tube. This is my primary safety. This hollow plastic tube, cut from a length of PVC, holds water and the ends of the tube are sealed with a quick set waterproof sealer. I have several of these tubes in various diameters and I keep them in a small freezer in the closet. The larger the inside diameter, the longer I must wait for my release. Here's how this works:
The two ends of the chain with the key on the bottom end are placed inside the tube and one ends is sealed. I fill the tube with water and seal the other end, then freeze the whole thing. As long as there is ice in the tube, the chain remains intact and the key is held in the ice. When the ice melts, the chain is released from the tube and the handcuff key that is attached becomes available. Just in case, but buried in my mind, is a second and emergency safety. Next to my chained feet is an electric switch that operates the winch attached to the ceiling chain. In an emergency, my foot hits this switch and the chain drops free at once. This may seem like a cop out, making escape too easy, but remember that my objective is to get myself off, both physically and mentally, not kill myself. While I have never used the back-up safety, I think having it there eliminates a lot of anxiety.
I place my usual wooden pear gag into my mouth, give the key two turns so that it expands and cannot come out without they key unwinding the expanded plug, then I fasten the gag strap behind my head over the collar.
Now comes the good part. Placing the hanging double leg irons around each breast, I close the cuffs until the tissue of each soft mound becomes hard and shiny on the outside. As the tits are compressed, they form a somewhat pointy, pear-like cone with the steel cuff tightly clasped around their base. I make the cuff tight enough so that there is no chance the captive breast will slip out. The pressure from the clamping ring is intense. I can feel the surge of erotic pleasure building, so I must hurry. The last thing I do is put a pair of regular handcuffs on my wrists behind my back. I close them and reach up and grasp the end of the frozen chain tube, just to make sure its there. I cannot release the key until the frozen chain is freed, and I must, at all costs, hang onto the key, no matter what. The combination of fear of losing the key, the pain from the cuffs around my breasts as I more or less hang from them and the mounting discomfort of the too-tall heels all work in symphony to bring me to a surging climax. I place more and more weight on the breast chains while I wiggle and shake from the mounting boil inside my body and my head. My eyes are closed tight, my liquid-soaked thighs rubbing together, my hands closed around the cold tube that holds my fate. The time races along and the ice in the tube finally melts, the chains inside the PVC tube release and the key is now free in my hand. I am still climbing the orgasmic mountain, but the key is now clamped in my hand. The lightning blots strike and I totter on my heels, the steel cuff clamps dig deeper into the roots of my tits and I am humming a silent song into the pear gag.
Slowly the show winds down. I am spent. I clutch the single key and, knowing that I have only this chance, slowly probe for the keyhole in one cuff. It doesn't come easily.
I am a dripping statue of sweat, breasts steaming from the tension on the hanging chain, feet aching from the shoes, mouth dry and seeking hydration. The key fits, I twist it and the cuff opens. From there, it is all downhill. I am free and open the closet door to admit nighttime darkness and cleaner air. I stumble to the bathroom, relieve myself at the toilet and step on shaking legs into the cold shower. I'm just a closet case, but I love it.
Chapter Eight
From two interviews: insight into creative designs of SB gear beyond picking out which pair of handcuffs to use.
Felicia - Visual aids & high tech
It is probably foolish for me to talk about using visual and electronic assists in my self-bondage. I suppose this admission indicates an inability to be creative enough to manufacture in my mind the sort of images that I need to accompany my restraints. That may be so. I have never discussed this with anyone else except with other SB fans, so it's hard to tell how much of a part photos, videos, electronics and other gadgets play in the SB activity.
For me, it is simply an extension of what I see in my brain. Watching a film or video is very exciting. I can tie or strap myself, completely naked and with at least one vibrator going in my sex, into a wooden arm chair and watch a film of someone else who is tied up and being "entertained" by another video they are watching and perhaps that person is also watching a video of someone else being bound and excited. This sort of thing can go on and on until it becomes ridiculous with each bound person watching another, but I'm sure you get the point. Nevertheless, it is stimulating and effective. It also gives me new ideas about how I want to be tied, so I see only positive aspects to it.
On a typical weekend afternoon, while my friends are out pub crawling, I may be in my flat, sorting out an array of rope or leather straps to hold me tightly in The Chair while I run a couple of BDSM DVDs through the machine. When I find the one I want, I set it up, strip, perhaps take a shower and then get into The Chair. This is my special chair. It has several mods that I have personally installed, among them a remote control for the DVD player, a switch to control the lights in the room, a remote to answer the door if I need to and several other fascinating devices that I'll explain later. The Chair resides in my private office. It is usually covered with books, reports and other junk intended to keep anyone from sitting in it.
Early in my planning, I try to decide how the script will go. I can just get into The Chair and get on with it or I can set up a preliminary scene that may or may not end up with me in The Chair. If I want to play a role in this scenario, I may dress myself suitably first, planning to strip during the "capture" and end up in The Chair or on the floor, squirming in acute bondage and able to view the DVD or film in segments as I wish.
The value of high tech equipment in this scene is obvious. I can't imagine the old days when I might have had to browse through magazines, looking for the "trigger" story or photos that would set me off on my own private SB adventure. The visuals and sound from the DVD are far more efficient for what I seek.
In this hypothetical case, I enter the room dressed in a short, white cotton dress with short sleeves and an elastic waist with a wide studded leather belt over it. Under it, I wear only a pair of white bikini panties and a minute little white lace bra. White hose that come up to the top of my thighs accent the black patent leather high heels on my feet. I have on large, silver hoop earrings but no other jewelry. I have done my make-up quickly, but the eye shadow and lip-gloss give my face an innocent look that will quickly be lost when the gag harness and blindfold or hood are pulled over my face and my tears of desperation ruin the eye shadow and liner.
Before I can react, someone is behind me with a handful of rope. I am surprised because I didn't think anyone else was in the room. I imagine that they quickly bind my wrists together. Thus tied, I stumble around the room until they get ready for the next part of the scene. I untie my hands and put a long rope around my waist to help create an upper torso rope harness. They pull the rope from my waist up behind my back, slip one end under my left arm, up over my head and behind my neck, then back around the front, under the right arm, across my back again, winding it around and over my chest under my breasts. They make several loops around my body, constricting my chest. The other end of the rope is fixed the same way so that when they finish, I wear a sort of multi-strand rope harness around my chest, squeezing my bra-covered boobs together and forming a neat base of rope for what is to come. In reality, I do this without my hands bound, but that is one of the fascinating elements to SB…I am imagining myself being bound by someone else while I am doing it myself, alone.
My nipples harden at once, pushing against the light padding in the bra cups and encountering the bits of fine sand and gravel that I put into the cups before this began. This is a self-tantalizing move that I love. The sand rubs my nipples and breasts continuously as I move in resistance and against the restraints. The remaining ends of the chest ropes, knotted on the center of my spine, hang down my back. My hands are once again cruelly pulled up and captured in the rope ends, effectively holding them against my back, below the shoulder blades. I tie the wrists tightly so that I have no motion left in my arms.
Yes, of course, I set this up so that I can tie it and it takes a few minutes to get it right. The way this is done in reality is to leave enough rope after the chest harness is completed so that the ends hang down and can be twisted and wrapped around my wrists. Once the chest binding is complete, I tie a knot in the remaining ends and then wrap this around my wrists until it is tight. This is not perfect, but it's not permanent anyway. I roll around on the floor, grinding the sand and gravel into my breasts, imagining these two good-looking thugs are playing with me, testing to see exactly what my potential may be for their later plans.
I struggle and begin to scream and get a rubber ball stuffed into my open mouth. It stretches my jaws wide and fills my mouth with the stale, bitter taste of sponge rubber. My hands are free while I do this, but in my head I am already well bound and helpless at the pleasure of the two men who are threatening me. They force me up onto my knees, cross my ankles and tie them with more rope. They then pull the end of the ankle rope up, forcing me to bend my knees, and slip the end of the rope through the single strand of rope that is behind my neck. This creates a strong and stressful hog-tie and I revel in it, even though they are not yet finished with me
They use more rope to pull my ankles up closer to my butt and tie them to the multiple strands that cross my back. Tension on these ropes puts more stress on my chest ropes and again, I have to slow down and savor these sensations before I can continue.
This strict hog-tie is probably my most useful tie and always gets me very hot. I flop around on the floor and lie there, struggling, panting, through my nose. The gag ball is now fully inside my mouth, held there by three or four leather straps that wind around my head and over my face, framing my nose and eyes and making me look like some sort of wide-eyed woman in white, captured and bound by people who want her for bondage games and evil, erotic sex. I can see myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall and this helps almost as much as the DVD.
Hog-tied, but still dressed, I use the remote to turn on the video and watch as some other poor woman is strung up by her wrists, gagged with strips of cloth stuffed into her mouth and fitted with a spreader bar between her ankles. She too struggles, cries and cannot get free. I can empathize with her. I am waiting for the two men to make their next move and it comes as they pull up my short skirt and pull my bikini panties down around my knees. Now I know why they haven't tied my legs…yet. Another prickly rope goes around my waist and is knotted tightly. I know what is coming now. The dildo with the lubricated condom slides into my cunt without resistance. It goes in smoothly and again the sensation is nearly overwhelming. I am doing this to myself with arms bound behind me and rope around both wrists. I push the dildo in as far as it will go and then search with my fettered hands for the ends of the waist rope. These are pulled down through my butt crack and carefully threaded through the hole in the dildoe's base. Then, I feed them between my legs and up through the front of the waist rope, pulling them tight and driving the dildoe another half inch up into my cunt. I moan into the gag, breathing hard, feeling the entire length of the fake dick seated deep inside me. Now I bring the remaining rope ends back once again through my soaking crotch, take one strand around one side of the deeply imbedded dildoe and one around the other side, framing the end of the rubber dick and pushing my lower lips harder into my pelvis. When finished, the twin rope ends are pulled through the waist rope in back and knotted twice.
My imaginary captors are enjoying themselves, discussing at length whether or not to try to force another dildo into my ass. To improve their access to the area where they have been working, they push my now sweat-soaked dress up higher under my arms, exposing my bra and nearly freeing my breasts. In the front, they tie connecting ropes between the chest harness rope and the waist rope. When this is pulled tight, I feel the crotch rope cutting further into the space between my legs and forcing the dildo even deeper. The girls on the DVD continue their gag-muffled screams as well.