Hello, This is a story for. I've just found it in the Internet. ... From A.K.

An Autobondage Experience

I haven't done much self-bondage recently. The last real scene that I can recall happened early in the Fall. It was the most intense auto-bondage that I've undertaken to date. Rather than envisioning myself at the mercy of a female Dominatrix, I drove that intensity much higher by imagining -myself- as the master. This was a new twist for me, submitting to a male, but who would know better how to Top me, than me?

The setting was my exercise room. Intended as a bedroom, I have filled it with a large "Universal" type weight machine. I have mounted several mirrors to the walls, and a few more are loose. One wall is covered with about 30 Boris prints.

For this scene, I pulled down the window-shade, stripped, and knelt before one of the big mirrors. Kneeling down, knees spread wide, I picked up my collar, kissed it, and wrapped it around my neck, enjoying the smell, the rough feel of it. The heavy padlock went easily through the hasp, and with a resonant snap, the lock closed shut. Enslaved, I rushed around the house collecting up the necessary supplies.

When the floor of the exercise room was littered with rope, leather, cuffs, and various other items of pain or restraint, I lay down on the padded black exercise bench to check the view. Not good. I got up, and angled the bench up 30 degrees, locking it in place with a heavy steel pin. Better, but still not good enough. I slid the large movable mirror a few feet along the wall, until it was opposite where my head would be. I climbed back onto the bench, enjoying the sight of my muscles rippling as I positioned myself: feet down on the leg curl bar, body lying back on the bench, arms reaching high over my head, holding the two huge metal supports, between which the weights ride. I pretended that my wrists and ankles were fastened, and squirmed a bit. It felt good, stretching the muscles like that, and it looked good too.

My sight turned inward as I gazed into the mirrors, and I found myself wishing that I could replicate myself, with one copy to spring up and take control, binding the other copy tightly to the bench. I imagined how nice it would be to be able to tower over such a powerful male, made helpless by my bonds, and force him to submit to me. He would have to do anything I commanded, or face my wrath! Ah, what a pleasant thought. My point of view shimmered, and suddenly I found those imagined bonds seeming a bit more real as I gazed up at the powerful, domineering male who held me captive. He was as nude as I, but I could sense the menace in his burning, intense gaze. Without words, we both knew that he would be teaching me the full meaning of my slavery. We both knew that I wanted him to be demanding, unyielding, concerned only with his own pleasure, not mine. My pleasure would come from serving him to perfection. He nodded in agreement, and smiled down at me fiercely.

I shivered in anticipation, and broke free of my imaginings. I got up, and began organizing my materials to be within arm's reach of the weight bench, wisps of my imagery still floating through my mind. I was trembling a bit with excitement. "Soon" I thought, "soon". From several choices, I selected the locking leather "chastity belt" which leaves my genitals free, poking out through a heavy chrome ring. I slid my balls through the opening, then carefully worked my already slightly turgid penis through the narrow remaining aperture. When all of it was pulled through, I arranged the folds of my flesh to minimize pinching, then knelt. While it was still far from being hard, I stuffed my cock and balls into a small little leather bag, and fastened it closed with a strap that ran around their base. This session "he" was not going to allow me any sexual gratification.

Firmly in the grip of the mood I had established, I reached for the largest rubber cock in my collection, knowing that I was to be used by "him" in every conceivable way, including that most intimate way. I could not refuse him. As I lubricated it, it's size made me nervous. Ready, I bowed forward until my forehead touched the carpet, my ass raised. Reaching back, I placed the head against my anus, and began to press. I could feel tip of the intruder begin to enter me, and I concentrated on relaxing the anal sphincter muscles. All at once they relaxed some, and it slid in about an inch. I increased the pressure, and slowly the widest part of the head entered me, making the muscles burn at having to stretch open so wide. When the head was completely past the muscle ring, the rest slid in fairly easily, until I felt the tip pressing against an intestinal wall, deep inside me. Two more inches of cock remained outside me, but I knew that's all I was going to be able to take. My rectum felt pleasantly full, the intruder no larger than some normal fecal bodies. Quickly, I pulled the leather crotch strap of my "chastity belt" back between my legs, and made it as tight as I could, considering what protruded behind me. Wrapping the waist belts firmly from back to front, I fastened both with small padlocks. At first I couldn't decide if the rubber cock was a prisoner inside of me, or if I was it's prisoner. My first few steps caused it to shift and move within me as if it were alive. "The latter" I quickly decided, knowing myself at it's mercy, at the mercy of my master.

Next, I strapped the gag into my mouth, and padlocked the strap shut with a miniature lock. The big ball filled a good portion of my mouth, and the heavy rubber plate in front did a reasonable job sealing my lips. My mouth and ass were filled with the rubber which comprises "his" flesh, and my cock had been secured in leather. I knew that "he" wanted to see the rest of me similarly restrained, and I hastened to obey. As I worked, my tongue explored this invader poking through between my lips.

I unfastened all the many buckles on my leg harness, and attached the two rings at it's top to their mates on my belt. Locks secured that shut. Before progressing to the next step, I tied my key ring to a long piece of waxed string, and tied the string to my left belt ring. That would be my insurance policy, when I was ready to get free. Gathering another heavy padlock, I locked the two rings at the bottom of the leg harness to the thick metal ring welded to the leg curl bar. Sliding as many straps under the weight bench as I could, I sat down, and began to cinch the heavy leather belts closed. The roller buckles helped me make them very tight -- tight enough that they pulled themselves deep into my flesh, but not so tight as to cut off circulation. I worked my way up my legs, until every buckle was tight. I could squirm a bit, but my legs were well held. It felt good, really good, to be held that tightly.

I leaned back, and suppressed a gasp. Changing my position had caused the rubber cock to make a firm thrust within me. I paused to breathe through my nose, and relax. Twisting slightly to the side, I gathered up the first piece of rope, and threaded it up through the right belt ring, across the expanse of black leather covering my abdomen, and back down through the left belt ring. Both arms behind my back, underneath the bench, I pulled the rope tight, and secured it with a square knot. I pulled my stomach in as far as I could. Both ends looped up, across the ridged bowl of my abdomen, and disappeared beneath the bench. They too were pulled tight, very tight, and knotted. The ropes sunk deep into the tender flesh, and some redness could already be seen. A second loop joined the first, passing close to the base of my ribs. Already I was out of rope.

To each end of the rope, I tied on another length of rope, allowing the process to be continued. I exhaled every wisp of air, and quickly looped the ropes over my ribs, adding another knot. After taking a very small breath, another loop was added. Then another, running across the tops of my pectorals and down through my armpits. After tying, I brought the ends up a different way, bringing them down across my shoulders. Both were knotted to the strands at the base of my pecs, looped under, and then tied securely below. There wasn't enough rope to make another loop. I tested my bonds. Other than being able to lift my shoulders an inch or two, and squirm a bit from side to side, I was well held. The ropes across my ribs forced me to continue taking relatively shallow breaths, reinforcing the feeling of captivity.

Groping around on the floor with my right hand, I connected with my wrist cuffs. I lifted them up to where I could see them, and buckled them on. The metal rings gave a soft tinkling as of wind chimes as I moved. I secured each buckle strap with a small lock, so that I could not remove them without a key. Further rummaging produced two heavy padlocks and a pair of Japanese nipple clips, which I rested on my belly. The metal was cold on my skin. My earlier struggles, combined with my sightless groping, had served to cover me with a thin glistening layer of sweat. Attached to the hasp of one of the locks was another strand of waxed string, this one leading to an amber pill bottle on the floor. It disappeared into the block of ice that filled the bottle, but I knew that inside that block of ice was a key labeled "A". I looked at the bottoms of the two locks resting on my belly, confirming that each of them also bore the letter "A" engraved deeply into their metal. I knew that I could not afford to use the wrong set of locks here, or else I would truly be bound -- and no one else was expected home for hours. The letters were there.

I reached over my head with my left hand, and grasped the loop of chain that I had attached to the exercise machine's main pylons earlier. It was the work of but a moment to snag chain and ring, and secure them with a padlock. Snap! That limb was secure. I rechecked that the string still ran from that padlock, back to the ice-filled pill bottle. All was well.

With my one remaining free hand, I flicked a fingernail across my exposed nipples. My cock grew instantly harder, but the pleasant warmth of my growing arousal was interrupted by the unpleasant sensation of pinching, as the leather pouch holding my genitals prevented their further expansion. More flicks to the nipples made the feelings much worse, much more intense. When both nipples were standing erect, as much as they ever do, I let the jaws of the nipple clips open and then bite closed. In my excited condition, everything seemed more intense, and the gag muffled a pair of soft groans. The nipple clips must have grown teeth, because a pool of fire began dripping off them, burning it's way across my skin until my whole pecs seemed to hurt in sympathy. I gave in to the sensation, trying to amplify it, and began moaning softly as I squirmed in my bonds, savoring the feeling of helplessness, of being captured, owned, mastered. The firm rod planted deep in my ass warned me not to move too much, but it's warning was unnecessary, for my bonds prevented much motion.

I sought to complete the picture. Grasping the final padlock, I reached my other arm up over my head, and tried to bring together ring, padlock, and chain, using only four fingers and a thumb, while being very careful not to drop the padlock. Having my arm up that high put extra tension on the skin over my right nipple, and the clip there bit in even more deeply, while I struggled to complete my bondage. Hooking the chain with the lock was no problem, and it didn't take too many moments to catch the edge of the ring from my wrist cuff, but it was difficult to use my fingers to rotate the lock upwards and twist it closed. Having gotten that far, it proved almost impossible to press the lock closed. Each time I attempted it, the lock would swing open and the ring or the chain would pull out. Again and again I hooked the ring again, starting the whole procedure over, and every time it would slip away, sometimes infuriatingly near to closure. As I worked at this problem, my bound body wiggled and squirmed, trying to provide an extra fraction of an inch here or there, to improve my position. In addition to my struggles, the day was warm, and soon I was covered with a heavy film of sweat. It was hard to keep my head bent so that I could see the activities happening around my wrist, and after a while I gave up trying to watch. Making my head comfortable on the edge of the padded weight bench, I proceeded entirely by feel. After a number of botched attempts, I got close a few times. By redoubling my efforts, and trying again and again, I eventually got the lock closed. Snap! I tugged at it experimentally, and determined that I was well held. Now there would be no escape.

I rested for a moment, catching my breath, and admiring the beautiful vision of maleness who lay bound to immobility, somewhere just on the other side of the mirrors. We both squirmed, showing off our rippling muscles, proudly displaying our ropes. I tried to smile at him, and I could see his eyes twinkling in amusement as he gazed upon me.

The magical spell faded a little as I stared into the mirrors, and I found myself wondering how well I was really held. I set out to test my bonds, and pulled and twisted and wrenched myself in every conceivable way. The quadriceps in my legs bunched up, bulging, but even those massive slabs of muscles were unable to burst the heavy leather straps. Pushing, pulling, flexing in every direction, nothing changed. My bonds were implacable, holding me in place with seeming effortlessness. The tinkling voice of the swaying chains was laughing at me, mocking the pitiful human who sought to do battle with leather and steel. I struggled some more. I was held.

There was something arousing, something sexual about that struggle. It was as if I was held in the arms of an overwhelmingly powerful lover, and she just wouldn't let me free. As I squirmed and fought, my cock struggled too, trying to erect, trying to telegraph to the world my incredible need. It couldn't erect, and I couldn't get free, but in my impassioned struggles the motions of the thick rubber cock within me became somehow pleasurable, as if that too was part of this tussle.

When every inch of my body knew, absolutely *KNEW* that it was held in inescapable bondage, I gave up, and accepted my lot. I lay there placidly, waiting for my fiendish Master to come in, to gloat at his prize, to force me to obey his will. He never came. Time passed, and the magical mood slowly ebbed, fading to near nothingness. I was no longer a desirable prize, held captive to await his Master's pleasure, I was just some kinky guy, tied to a weight bench. I knew I was alone, that nothing else would happen. I felt abandoned, isolated. Irritably, I used the fingers of my left hand to slowly pull in the icy pill bottle. It seemed like a lot of time had passed, and with the heat of the room I felt certain that the ice would have melted, but when the bottle finally touched my questing fingers, I found that the majority of the ice still remained. I had a long time in which to "savor" my bonds. Somehow the prospect of "savoring" them alone over the next few hours with nothing at the end except a cold key to unlock my locks didn't seem so appealing any more.

I laid my head back and tried to relax. That helped some, but my body was filled with little aches. The blaze of the nipple clamps had died down some, but there was still a merry flame dancing on each nipple. My struggles had exposed me to the whims of my bonds, and I found my chest criss-crossed with wide stripes of pink skin, all bearing rope imprints. And a few of the lowest leather straps, down around my ankles, seemed to have tightened their hold. Somehow, they were pinching somewhat, and that didn't feel nice either. I imagined a faint whisper of laughter from "him" as he breezed by and sneered at my predicament. But that was just my imaginings, the mode was surely gone. My ass no longer felt pleasure from the huge invader, it felt violated. I tried to contract my muscles, to expel it, but my leather bonds held it deeply within me. I felt degraded by having that prong within me.

I knew that slaves might well have to wait for extended periods in tight bondage, just as I was then. Knowing that there would be no further demands made on me, that all that lay ahead was waiting, uncomfortable waiting, made everything seem dull and lackluster. "You wanted to know what being bound and ignored felt like" I admonished myself. "Now you get to find out." Indeed I did. I shifted uneasily, trying to find a comfortable position, and began to wait in earnest.

All the discomforts made sleep was an impossibility, and boredom quickly set in. "Oh, if only some playmate would appear, then this could become interesting again" I thought. Nothing changed. The sounds of the wind and the passing of cars on the distant road were the only changes in my environment. Even so, I was determined to experience the full period of bondage, if for no other reason than to convince myself that this wasn't really as much fun as I had expected.

After a long while, my left hand began to go to sleep. I struggled, twisting my arm and shifting the cuff up my forearm slightly, but this only helped for a little while. It started to go to sleep again. I tried to sit bolt upright with alarm, but of course just I just ricocheted off my ropes and slammed back onto the bench. That unexpected feeling distracted me for a few moments, but then the rush of adrenaline hit. While that powerful drug coursed through my system, I quickly drew the pill bottle back up into my hand. About one third had melted. I dumped out the water, and began warming the block of ice with my hand. It rattled around inside the thick plastic bottle. I could feel it melt at my touch, but the progress was still very slow. I couldn't pull hard on the string, for fear that it would break, stranding me. Many long minutes went to trying to melt that ice, as now two kinds of cold began clawing in earnest at my hand. Long ages passed, slowly.

Finally, enough ice had melted to withdraw the ice-encased key from the bottle. I closed my tingling hand over it firmly, and with heat and pressure managed to shear the ice along it's natural stress lines in about a minute. A few moments more to melt the string off of the ice, and finally the key was free!

With trembling fingers and a nearly numb arm, I tried to fit the key into the lock, but instead I dropped it. It look long moments to reel it back in with the string. This time, it went into the keyway, and the lock fell to the floor with a crash. I slowly pulled my arm down, and rested it on my chest. It felt so good to have it free that I ignored the remainder of my bonds, and just lay there. A few times I tried to reach over with my right hand and massage it, but the laughing chains prevented any such freedoms.

I used the "A" key again to make another loud crash, and my right hand flew to comfort my injured arm. I lay like that for a long while, massaging life back into myself, my mind empty save only for concerns about the arm.

Crisis averted, I began to stir, what little I could. By this point I was weary and starting to get stiff. With a feeling of emptiness, I reeled in the other string, and began undoing what locks I could reach. Then I began the tedious process of untying knots that I couldn't see, and peeling off the ropes. Each strand of the soft thick rope had burrowed itself a nest in my skin; when I lifted it away, a beautiful red furrow remained, imprinted with the diagonals of the rope pattern. Finally free of the rope, I tugged open all the buckles, and turned, grateful to be able to sit up again. I plucked off the nipple clips and dashed them to the floor. I breathed hard from the pain, wincing, but didn't make a sound.

Continuing to ignore my gag, since I didn't need to communicate, I slid down to my knees before the big mirror, and admired the deep red impressions that criss-crossed my upper body. Already they were starting to fade, but they looked as if they belonged there. They made a nice decoration to go with the rippling muscles. Then I freed my penis from it's restraint, and unlocked the "chastity belt", pulling myself free from it's enclosing ring. The cock in my ass began sliding downward at the urging of gravity, and that sensation made my own cock spring to erection.

Some of the magic came back, and I knew what was expected of me. I squatted down lower, so the floor stopped the descent of the rubber phallus just before it pulled all the way out, and then sank down, impaling myself on it. Catching it's base between my feet, I raised up and felt it pull out again, then sunk down again. I no longer resisted it, and it entered me easily, it's thickness commanding attention. With my right hand, I masturbated furiously, imagining that it was "he", my alter ego, whose hands and cock were on my body. That it was "he" whose feet I knelt at. I could resist none of his desires, I wanted only to obey. His need was clear, and so was mine. I came, quickly, my seed splashing on my abdomen, my legs. My orgasm was powerful, brief. It was unencumbered by any stray thoughts, it was just pure sensation. I imagined that "he" found similar release. Some of my come ran down into my pubic hair, making a sticky mess.

I wandered off to the nearby bathroom, and slowly removed the prong from within me. I enjoyed a chance to sit on the toilet and relax, no longer filled to the brim.

Suddenly tired, and feeling mentally even more vacant and drained, I carefully cleansed and dried the rubbery cock. Leaving it on the counter, I went back into the exercise room, dully taking notice of the fact that my ass now felt strangely empty, as if something important was missing. But I was too tired to care. I knelt again, unlocked and removed the gag. Now I was nude save only for the collar. I arose, washed the gag, and carefully put everything away. I moved as a zombie, my mind empty. Not peaceful, not tranquil, just empty. There were no spontaneous thoughts. All the exercise equipment was returned to it's normal configuration. Only the bundle of keys remained, next to the mirror.

When the cleanup was complete, I knelt again, and knew with certainty that I was dismissed. I unlocked the collar, and carried it carefully off to it's storage location.

Now I was free, but my mind was still empty. Had slavers burst in through the front door to capture me, I would have been unable to resist them. I didn't even have it in me to wonder when this state of emptiness would end, I just snagged a towel and took a long, hot shower.

That revived me enough to go out and find dinner.

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