I enjoy bondage, and if I can’t find someone to help out, it has to be self-bondage. Not always a good idea, especially when ‘The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft a gley’ (with apologies to Robert Burns). In other words, if something can go wrong, it will go wrong. I remember one occasion when it did just that, but with a not altogether unsatisfactory ending as it eventually turned out.

One Friday evening I suddenly felt that I needed a good session, and decided that I would indulge myself with what I called a ‘sweatbag’ session. Hot, sticky and very uncomfortable, so I would usually wear the most enveloping plastic and rubber clothing I could devise. I had a plentiful supply of rope in various lengths for almost any method of restraint. My place of restraint was to be the lounge room floor, which was comfortably carpeted. My path to freedom was a sharp knife on the floor of the kitchen at the back of the house. Once I had trussed myself up, I would have to wriggle my way out through the lounge door, down the hall, into the kitchen, and cut myself free. Laborious, but simple enough.

As soon as I got home from work I put into practice an idea I’d dreamed up that afternoon. I pulled out the various items of clothing I would need and put them on the sofa in the lounge. Then I sorted out the ropes and began. First I needed to put on my items of discomfort. On this occasion I’d decided to add a bit of extra humiliation to my session, so after removing all my clothes and laying down on the floor, I folded a large towelling square as a nappy, and pinned it on securely with four nappy pins. Fortunately my sister had had a baby six months before, so I had learned how to fold it correctly. On top of the nappy came a humiliating large pair of adult-sized thick baggy plastic baby pants I’d obtained from a sex shop. I felt a pang of pleasure as I drew the elasticated pants up my legs and around my waist, enveloping my crutch securely. The tight elastic at my waist and thighs would ensure that even if I had to wet myself (or worse), nothing would come out.

Standing up, I looked at the three girl’s hooded raincoats I had laid across the back of the sofa; a translucent plastic mac, a yellow PVC one, and a red rubberised cotton mackintosh. Worn one on top of the other, I knew that they would guarantee my discomfort.

I picked up the translucent full-length plastic mac, slid my arms into the sleeves, and snapped shut the snap fasteners down the front. It felt cool against my bare skin at first, but I knew that all that was about to change. I tied the matching plastic belt around my waist in a neat non-slip double bow at the front. This was going to be a full on discomfort session, so that wasn’t the only layer of plastic I would be encased in. Picking up the safety yellow PVC raincoat, I put it on over the plastic mac, and closed the snap fasteners one by one. This was going to be hot.

 It was now time to silence myself so that I would be unable to call for help, and I had devised a method of achieving this in the most humiliating way. From the chair next to me I picked up my punishment dummy that I’d bought from a supplier on the internet. But this was no ordinary baby’s dummy. To begin with, it was very large. The three inch wide mouth cover was easily large enough to cover my mouth from below my nose to the bottom of my chin. On the inner side it was fitted with a large oval shaped silicone rubber bulb which filled my mouth completely. There were four holes in the sides of the mouth cover, and two long lengths of pink ribbon threaded through them to secure the dummy in place.

I opened my mouth and pushed the bulb of the dummy into it. The soft silicone rubber seemed to fill every space in my mouth, and pushed my tongue gently but firmly down. I placed the loops of ribbon behind my neck, and began to tighten them by pulling the ends of the ribbons threaded through the front of the dummy’s mouth cover and crossing them over. I then passed the ends round to the back of my head, crossed them over, and pulled them tight in earnest. As I did so, I could feel the rubber bulb penetrating deeper into my mouth and filling it with silicone rubber. I passed the ribbons round to the front again, and keeping them tight, continued to wind them around my head several more times until I finally tied them in a bow at the back of my neck. I made an experimental attempt to shout out at the top of my voice, but this all I could do was emit a faint muffled babyish gurgle. Perfect. I pulled up the hood of the plastic mac and tied it on securely with the tie tapes in a non-slip double bow under my chin. Then I put up the hood of the PVC raincoat on top and buttoned it up securely under my chin. There was now no way that I would be able to get either of the hoods off once my hands were restrained. 

My envelopment now began in earnest. It was warm up time. I picked up the mackintosh from the sofa and looked at it in anticipation. It was identical in style to the rubberised macs that little girls used to wear in the 1950’s, and had been made to measure in a generous size for me by a mackintosh supplier. It was a double-breasted red mackintosh made of double texture rubberised cotton, with a buckle belt and an attached hood with both tie tapes and a button fastening under the chin. I put my arms into the smooth, rubberised sleeves and pulled the mackintosh on over my shoulders. Then, one by one I fastened the buttons up to my neck, and fastened the belt tightly round my waist. The sleeves came down as far as my fingers, and the hem hung down several inches below my knees. I began to look and feel more like a little girl. Next, I pulled up the hood and tied the fastening tapes in a tight non-slip double bow. Then, using the additional button fastening, I buttoned it securely under my chin, and pulled the hood well forward. It was of a style that used to be popular with girl’s regulation school mackintosh hoods, with a square cut about 4 inches long running across the top at the back of the head. I stepped back and looked at myself in the mirror. With my face peeping out from under the mackintosh hood and the large dummy covering my mouth, I looked just like a little toddler, except for my bare legs.

That was soon rectified with a pair of black shiny calf length girl’s fashion wellies. I picked one up and placed my right leg into it. Since discomfort was the idea, I had deliberately bought them two sizes too small for me, so as I pushed my foot into the bottom my toes became painfully squashed up. I heaved and grunted as I tried to squeeze my foot down into the constricted space, and suddenly the heel of my foot slipped down into position. My foot was now firmly and uncomfortably imprisoned in the black rubber boot. With the same difficulty, I put on the other boot, and winced slightly as I stood up. Oh well, I wanted to be uncomfortable. Now it was time to get myself tied up.

Sitting on the ground, I took a long piece of rope, and after doubling it I wound it several times around my ankles before running the two rope lengths between my ankles in opposite directions, cinching them tightly as I wound them around the rope between my ankles. I pulled the cinch tighter and tighter, and with the protection of the rubber boots I was able to secure my ankles tightly without discomfort. There was certainly no way that I would be able to pull my feet out of the tight rubber boots. I tied the rope ends together in a secure knot, leaving two lengths of rope a few feet long hanging from it. I tied one end off around the cinch between my ankles to tuck it out of the way.

Taking the other length, I made a hangman’s noose cinch loop in the end which would be easy to close but impossible to open once my hands were tied. After making the cinch loop on the end, I wound the rope several times around the cinch between my ankles, which shortened it until the loop was connected to my ankles by only a few inches of rope.

Next came my legs. I looped another doubled length of rope around them just above the knee a couple of times, and then ran the ends in a cinch through the middle before tying it off. I made sure that the final knot would be at the front of my legs so that there would be no way that I would be able to reach them with my hands tied behind my back. Taking another long length of rope, I doubled it and wound it several times around my chest and arms just above my elbows, put the ends through the loop and then pulled it tight. Then I tied it in a knot in front of my chest where I would be unable to reach it. With my upper arms now securely pinned to my body, my time of helplessness was fast approaching.

On the ground next to me was a prepared loop of rope which I’d twisted a few times so that it formed a much smaller loop of six coils of rope that I could just squeeze both my hands into and so would fit snugly around my wrists. I laid down on my back with my legs bent under me so that I could almost touch my heels. Than I put my hands behind my back, and placed my left hand into the coiled loop. With my right hand, I slipped the cinch loop attached to my ankles over my left wrist and up my left arm a little. Then I squeezed my right hand into the coiled loop so that the palms of my hands faced each other.

With my wrists snugly held together by the wrist loop, I now manoeuvred the cinch loop connected to my ankles down my arm, over my hand, and into the centre of the coiled loop enclosing my wrists. The cinch rope was now between my wrists at right angles to the wrist loop going across.

Now came the moment of commitment. I knew that once I’d tightened the cinch rope, the coiled rope around my wrists would be so tight that it would be impossible for me to get my hands out of it. My only way of escape would then be with the sharp knife lying on the kitchen floor. My heart thumping, I rolled over onto my front, and began to pull my ankles away from my bound wrists. As I pulled, the friction knot of the cinch loop closed between my wrists around the coiled rope, the loop grew smaller and smaller. With a final sharp tug of commitment, the knot of the cinch knot came hard up against my bound wrists, totally out of reach of my fingers. With my hands tied in this way, there was no way that I could reach any of the knots, and my arms were now securely tied together and connected by a short length of rope to my ankles. It was a classic hogtie.

I lay there quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of utter helplessness, and then began to wriggle and squirm in a genuine effort to free myself. But with my hands unable to reach a single knot, there was no chance of that.

After about half an hour of fruitless struggling, I decided it was time to get free. The crawl along the hallway floor was going to be a long one. With a muffled grunt I suddenly found that I’d overdone the shortness of the cinch rope tying my wrists to my ankles, and that movement was going to be more difficult than I’d thought. I also suddenly realised that with such a tight hogtie my ankles continually pulled hard on my wrists, so I would have real difficulty in cutting the ropes with the knife.

I began the laborious crawl out of the lounge room and out into the hall. Then came the long and increasingly painful journey down the length of the hall towards the kitchen. As I heaved and strained my way along at a snail’s pace, the plastic pants and macs, together with the thick rubber mackintosh on top and the rubber boots I had imprisoned myself in, began to take effect. I began to sweat, and the more I squirmed and writhed, the hotter I became. Well, I’d wanted discomfort, and now I’d got it with a vengeance. Somehow it no longer seemed quite such a good idea as the sweat began to pour down my face.

It must have taken me a full hour to reach the doorway of the kitchen, and by the time I got there I felt like a limp rag. Oh well, once I’d got the knife I’d soon be free. The knife? Where the hell was it? I looked across the kitchen floor and couldn’t see it anywhere. I slowly crawled further into the kitchen, but still couldn’t see it. It had to be there somewhere. For some reason I started to look up, and as I looked at the sink unit I suddenly remembered. Oh no! I’d forgotten to put the knife on the floor. In my impatient preparations I’d left it on the draining board just four feet above me, but it might has well have been on the moon. In a paroxysm of frustration, I began to heave and squirm against the ropes, but I’d done far too good a job for that to be of any help at all. Without thinking, I tried to yell at the top of my voice, but of course, I’d taken good care of that as well. The humiliating dummy kept me quieter than any baby.

After a few minutes of sweaty, impotent rage at my own stupidity, I tried to think rationally, but there was no way that I could see out of the situation. Here I was, helplessly and securely trussed up and gagged in the most humiliating situation, and there was nothing I could do about it. Then my heart missed a beat as I realised something. Sally was going to find me like this. Sally was my girlfriend, and knew nothing about either my penchant for plastic and rubber raincoats or my love of self-bondage. I groaned as I realised that there was also another problem. She wasn’t due round until Saturday afternoon, so if I couldn’t get free I was going to be stuck like this for the next 18 hours! At least she had a key to let herself in.

In tears of frustration with my stupidity, I decided that the lounge room floor would be more comfortable than the hard kitchen floor, so with a groan of resignation I began my weary way back to the lounge. Another hour of hot, painfully slow crawling followed before I finally reached the lounge again. By the time I reached it, my hot plastic and rubber cocoon was soaking wet on the inside, and I was hardly able to move any more. The sweat ran down my face, and I felt exhausted as I breathed heavily through my nostrils. Fortunately, a cushion had fallen on the floor, and I was able to spend a long and sleepless night lying on my side using it as a pillow.

Since it was a summer evening I hadn’t bothered to switch on the light when I’d started, so I had to lie there on the ground in the dark for hour after hour, occasionally trying to shift my position to be more comfortable. But discomfort was what I had planned, and discomfort was what I had to endure. Sleep was impossible.

After what seemed an eternity, it finally began to grow light, and I found that I had a growing urge to go to the toilet, which grew inexorably stronger and stronger. Despite my best efforts not to let go, nature eventually triumphed, and I wept tears of humiliation as I wet my nappy in true baby fashion. Wait until Sally discovered that!

The morning passed, and I heard the world coming to life around me. With a few hours left yet, I decided to make one last effort to get free. I began to heave and writhe in desperation. I sweated, squirmed and moaned as I tried to reach any of the knots with one of my hands. Not a chance, and after twenty minutes I gave up. No, I’d just have to take it on the chin.

Early in the afternoon, my heart missed a beat as I heard the key in the lock of the front door and the sound of Sally’s voice. ‘Hi Tommy, it’s me. Where are you?’ The moment of truth had arrived. She came down the hall and into the lounge, and looked down at me. A look of amazement crossed her face, and then she slowly and deliberately sat down on the sofa and grinned. ‘Well well well’ she said, ‘And what do we have here? A cute little girl all dressed up in her mac and boots ready for the rain. You must be boiling in that lot. What fun!’ I looked up at her and yelled ‘Mmmmmmph! Mmmmm! Mmmmmmp!’ With a cool expression on her face Sally looked down at me and said ‘I assume that means please untie me?’

‘Mmmmmmmmm!’ I nodded vigorously in the affirmative. She grinned again, and as she crouched down I sighed with relieved anticipation as I expected her to release me. My ordeal’s over I thought. But Sally had other ideas. Instead of starting to untie me, she rolled me over onto my front and ran her hands tantalisingly over the tightly knotted ropes and chuckled. ‘Well now’ she said, ‘Since you like being tied up, I think I can improve on that.’ She smiled, and picking up a length of rope from the sofa, doubled it and ran it around my arms just above my elbows. Then she started to pull the loop tighter and tighter around them. I tried to protest, but the only sound to get past the silicone rubber dummy filling my mouth was ‘Mmmmmph! Mmmmmb!’ as slowly but surely my elbows were drawn closer together. Finally they were touching, and with an efficiency that I didn’t know she possessed, Sally cinched my elbow rope and tied it off tightly, way out of  reach of my fingers. And still she wasn’t finished.

My heart sank as she picked up another length of rope, and folding it double, ran it round the cinch holding my ankles together. Then she passed the ends up between my bound hands and back down to my ankles. Threading it once more around the ankle cinch, she took the ends back up to the cinch securing my elbows. Passing the rope round the elbow cinch, she began to pull on it. Like a pulley system, my hands and feet were drawn closer and closer together until my back began to ache and the heels of my feet were finally touching my bottom.

Swiftly, Sally tied off the end of the rope to my elbow cinch rope. Now I was really stuck. ‘Mmmmmmm! Mmmmmp! Mnnnmmmg!’ I yelled, and desperately tried to wriggle. But I couldn’t even squirm, and the tight ropes which restrained me seemed to take on a personality of their own, almost as if they were enjoying it.

Sitting down on the sofa again, Sally looked down at my helpless form and chuckled. She was obviously enjoying herself. ‘Well now’ she smiled wickedly, ‘I must say you’re very good at tying yourself up, aren’t you?’ Suddenly the penny dropped. She knew! As if to answer my thoughts Sally stood up and folded her arms, completely in control. ‘Believe it or not’ she said, ‘I’ve known about this little activity of yours for the last three months, ever since I came across your magazines, ropes and other little toys in the cupboard. Very careless of you. I was wondering when you’d bring the subject up. I’m a bit miffed actually, because it shows that you didn’t think our relationship could stand it. Well it may surprise you to know that I’m a lot more broad-minded than you think, and I’ll be quite happy to oblige you with this little hobby of yours from time to time, but only on condition that you never do it without me being here. If I ever find you like this again, I’ll take advantage of the situation and make you wish you’d never been born. Now how long have you been there? Since last night?’

‘Mmmmm’ I nodded in the affirmative.

‘How uncomfortable for you’ she grinned, ‘Well just to teach you a lesson, you can stay like that until tonight. I’ve got to go and do some shopping now, so you just lie there and behave yourself. Later on I’ll untie you and then we can go for a meal. And we can discuss some future fun and games in bed tonight.’ She walked across to the door, turned, and said  ‘Bye bye for now, see you later. All right?’

‘Mmmmmmmp!’ I gurgled. With one last giggle she left me wriggling like a helpless baby on the floor, and a few minutes I heard the sound of the front door being slammed. Once more I was left to struggle and squirm in the discomfort of my plastic and rubber cocoon.

After a couple of hours Sally returned. She came into the room and bent down to look in my face. She grinned as she said playfully with mock concern ‘Ooh my goodness, you’re all red aren’t you? Enjoying yourself?’

‘Mmmmmmph! Mmmmmm! Mmmmmmn!’ I yelled, wriggling and writhing helplessly. I moaned and tried to say ‘Please untie me,’ but all that came out was a garbled ‘Plnnnnnummmpee!’ Sally straightened up with her hands on her hips and laughed. ‘Untie you? Not likely, I’m enjoying this far too much. Oh no, I’ve hardly started yet. No, you can suffer just a little bit longer, so just lie there and enjoy your sauna.’ She went out of the room again, and left me moaning in humiliated frustration as I vainly squirmed and writhed against my restraints.

Sally finally returned some hours later, looked down at me, and with a broad grin said ‘Well I suppose you’ve suffered enough. All right, let’s get you out of those ropes.’

She knelt down next to me and began to untie me. As each rope fell away I gave a groan of relief, but even fully untied, I lay there on the floor for several minutes before I could straighten out my aching limbs. But gradually the numbness caused by the ropes began to recede, and finally I was able to stiffly stand up. Sally unfastened each raincoat hood in turn, and lowered it. As the hood of the innermost plastic mac was drawn off my head I gave a sigh of relief as the cool air ran over my face.

Sally untied my punishment dummy and slowly pulled it out of my mouth. Moving my aching jaw from side to side I said ‘Thanks. Gee, they sure don’t call that thing a punishment dummy for nothing!’

‘And it’s very effective too’ grinned Sally, ‘As well as humiliating. You couldn’t make a sound could you?’

She helped me to take off the three raincoats, and burst out laughing when she saw that I was wearing a nappy and baby pants. I tried to remove the rubber boots, but soon found that they were too tight for me to remove without help. Sally grinned and said ‘What’s up? Bit tight are they? All right, hang on.’ She took a firm grip on the boots, but even so, it took a lot of hard pulling before she was able to get them off.

I then wearily made my way to the bathroom carrying the three raincoats to rinse out, and had a blissful cool shower before I dried myself, left the raincoats in the bath, and made my way back to the lounge to dress myself. After that I felt wonderfully refreshed, as if I’d had a sauna, and in a way, I suppose I had.

In the meantime, Sally had prepared a meal for us, and as we sat down to eat, she said ‘Well, how was that? Up to expectations?’

‘Was it ever!’ I said, ‘It was unreal. At this point I decided to be completely open, and told her all about my liking for rainwear and bondage. My honesty paid off, because she smiled as she said ‘Yes, I wondered about that the other day when you said that you liked my raincoat, and now I understand why. Well don’t worry about it, I know that PVC macs can be a bit of a turn on for both men and women, so there’s nothing for you to be ashamed of.’ I felt a wave of relief as I realised that she understood me so well.

‘By the way Sal’ I said, ‘Where the hell did you learn so much about tying someone up? You’re obviously an expert.’

‘Oh it was easy. My ex boyfriend Bill was into bondage in quite a big way, and being slightly sadistic I was happy to oblige him. I find having a man helplessly within my power quite a turn on, so we were both satisfied. It’s rather nice to find that you seem to have very similar tastes to him, so that suits me just fine.’ She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then said ‘Look, why don’t we explore this a little more? You tell me more about just what turns you on, and I’ll tell you what I like, and then, if it’s OK, we can try out some bondage fun and games. But with you as the victim, of course.’

‘So’ she said, looking me in the eye, ‘Do you think you could stand another session next week end, something a little bit more stringent?’

‘More stringent?‘ I said, ‘Strewth.’

‘Oh believe me, I’ve got lots of tricks up my sleeve if you’re game enough to try them. I’ve got something in mind that will really turn you on, and it might just involve me using you for my own pleasure. You’ll be my helpless plaything.’

I liked the way she was heading, and with all memory of my recent discomfort fading already, I eagerly agreed. ‘All right then’ smiled Sally, ‘That’s a date.’

And so our friendship grew in a mutually satisfying way. I liked being tied up, and Sally enjoyed her dominant position, so we were both pleased. A couple of years later we were married, and the longer we remained together, the more we came to understand each other’s needs, and were able to fulfil them.

Well, I think I’ll finish here. Sally’s upstairs waiting for me with what she calls the ‘ultimate in turn ons’, so I wonder what she has in mind? Oh well, I’d better go up and find out, hadn’t I?

THE END

30.07.06

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