I've just foud it when surfing the Internet -- A.K.

Self Bondage Made Difficult

by Dexter c. Herron

Smoothly she pulled the car into the garage. She killed the ignition and sat listening to the ticking of the engine, to the hiss of the soft rain outside, to the quiet. The gray light of the day fell from the tiny windows and reflected little squares on the shine of her steering wheel. Her fingers played along its smoothness. She watched them, clad in leather, flex and unflex as they moved along the wheel. Her left finger stroked the back of the other hand and though the leather, it felt sensitive, heightened. Her fingers played with each other, caressing, stroking, tightening and relaxing. She touched her face, feeling the butter soft doe skin sliding along her skin.

She was feeling naughty. Their weekend had been effectively killed when mother called to cancel her little visit. And as if there was anything left, the weather turned to a shadowy gray with reports of rain until monday.

`We can catch up on all our house projects.' Robert suggested over breakfast.

How simple, she thought later as she shelved books at the store. How domesticated. Have we become our parents already?

She shook the thought from her head as she planned out the possibility for a more exciting weekend.

She stepped from the car and felt her skirt brush against her calves. She felt the cool, pre-spring air against her skin. She brought her ankles together and imagined them bound tightly, with white cord. She could see the frappings, feel the rope about her knees.

All of her senses were sparking. Her stomach had trembled with the idea of her weekend as soon as she had thought of it. Her body prepared itself, opening itself for all sensation. She could smell the oil of the garage and hear the distant bark of a the neighbor's dog. She opened her eyes not realizing they were closed. She looked about realizing she was still in the garage and the door open for her neighbors to see. She had to physically look to see that her feet where not bound before she could move. She quickly snatched up her groceries from the back seat and headed for the kitchen.

She heard the hall clock chime the quarter hour. Richard would be home and 4:15, 4:20 at the latest. She quickly allotted what she had and planed the next two hours. Calmly she put away her groceries, leaving out what she would need. She marveled at her serenity in preparing a light meal and setting it in the Microwave. She scripted a quick note of instruction and snatched a piece of tape to stick it to the microwave door.

She felt the tape on her fingers and in her mind felt it against her lips, gluing them together. Crinkly, scratchy, shiny and smooth. Richard slowly applying strip by strip, taking away her ability to argue, complain, beg. Binding her fingers, wrapping her arms, her mind toyed with the idea. Immobile like a mummy in clear, sticky plastic. She blinked and came back to reality. The time on the microwave blinked at her. Richard would be home soon. She put the note to the door and headed up to shower. The warm water danced against her flesh. The bubbles glided over her bristling nipples. She tried not to play with herself, but absently found her fingers rubbing up against her labia, pushing into her clitoris, sending sparks into her abdomen. Her arms brushed up against her breasts. Small, formless but proud and defiant nipples, begging to be twisted and pinched.

>From outside, the school bus horn sounded and deposited two children on the next door neighbor's steps. She dried quickly and tipped toed to the bedroom. She reached into the closet, forcing her way to the back and with a tussle, wrestled with a large, overstuffed garment bag and set it on the bed. She tried to control her shaking hands as she left it. She sat before her bureau and applied her makeup sparingly, least it began to run later. She wondered about it knowing he wasn't going to see her face. She quickly pinned her hair back, snatching bobby pins from a cup. In her rush, her fingers skidded into a closed safety pin and she stared at it. Her left nipple tightened as her fingers squeezed it open. She glanced at the clock, did she have the time? Her mind raced with a list of materials, she would have to get, tissues, disinfectant. No, she decided much to her nipples sigh, it was too dangerous to do alone. She was risking a lot as it was. Besides, it was much more fun for Richard to do it to her. She quickly threaded a length of thread through its eye.

She was going to make sure that Richard found it. A whole weekend and they should get to it. She heard the downstairs clock chime the quarter hour as she rose from the bureau, letting her towel fall into a pile on the floor. She took up the bottle of baby powder from the dresser and set it nearby on the nightstand by the bed. Her hands were trembling again as she tugged on the zipper of the garment bag. Dust covered the vinyl cover. Has it been that long since we did this? She wondered as she pulled it open. The wafting odor of latex and rubber assailed her. She remembered the smell like it was yesterday...it was yesterday. Glistening folds of black, red and white. A hint of blue from the back. Sliding against themselves as if she had just awakened some strange alien being. Oozing along the heavy coats of rubber treatment that she and Richard had stored them in. Protecting them.

She glanced at the clock and got to work. She laid out the blood red long johns. It was her favorite. Complete. Booties, hands, hood, body, all one smooth piece. A zipper running from the small of her back, through her sex and up to her chin. It had two ends so that Richard could access her sex without opening up the suit. It was concealable so not to break up the perfect outline of its form. She felt its softness giggle through her fingers as she laid it out.

She laid out her corset. It too was a gleaming red, but it was lambskin leather with a strict, bone skeleton giver her body a wasp's hide. Irresistibly accenting her ass. A perfect taunt target for Richard's hard hand to spank upon. An elastic bound zipper to hide its inter-work of laces.

Shoes. Penetrating heels with laces up to the crest of her calves, right below the knee. A full mask, to cover her face, the back of her head and neck. It would go under the hood of her long johns. Never enough rubber. Her gag was a web of leather straps with shiny, chrome buckles. A large red sponge ball to silence her pleas. A military M-19 field protective gas mask to complete the enclosure. Finally she laid out a pair of black panties. Grope pants they were called for the tiny nubs of rubber in the crotch. This was going on first. She powdered her bottom. Then rolling up the panties she pulled them on. It slipped easily over her tiny butt and laid flat against her belly. She tried hard not to touch them any more than she had too. The soft, rubber fingers played with her with every breath she took, every motion she made. She felt sweat instantly against the rubber skin. It mixed with her inner juices and she shuddered all the more. Carefully she pulled the mask on, not to smear her make up. It pinched and caught her hair and it was twisted, almost refusing to sit straight. But when it did, it molded to her face and head with a gentle, uniform pressure. She ran her hands along her head and neck, smoothing out the bubbles and wrinkles. She looked at the mirror. Her wide eyes peering from the large, round holes and her wide, red lips in the hole for her mouth. She patted more powder, sending plumes of talc allover the room. Her arms, legs, beasts, everywhere. It warmed instantly to her skin. Balancing on one foot she entered the latex long johns. It slipped about her, welcomed her, surrounded her.

She shimmied as she brought it over her hips, the nubs of the panties stroking her, tickling her. Sending her passion into an up roar. She felt the crotch of the long johns drive right up into her sex and she exploded with a controlled gasp. Quivering she tired to force her hormones back into order. She knew what Richard was going to do. She knew he was going to bind her so that she couldn't move. Spank her, hurt her, throw her into delicious fits of pain. And through it all, his hard hands would become soft, pausing between blows of the crop and touch the magic spot and push the little rubber heads into her again.

She was panting through her open mouth now as she glanced at the clock. She added more powder and slipped her arms through, gently stretching the rubber over her shoulders, pushing her fingers into the gloves. She rummaged into the bag and pulled out two metal clamps and without hesitation applied them to her nipples. She found them erect and bursting to the point of pain. The clamps sent shocks of lighting into her chest and she had to grip the dresser to hold herself up until the first wave of pain past. She slowly pulled up the zipper, feeling the tiny rumbling fingers in her sex and the hard steel of the clamps of her breasts. She felt herself being torn apart. The hood slipped over her head and the zipper concealed on her chin, sealing herself in. Its red outline perfectly framed her black clad face.

Her shoes went on as quickly as she could. Lacing it required her constant shifting into the rubber nubs of her panties. She felt her fire rage again and she had to frequently stop to let the boil settle again. She stepped into the circle of the corset and slipped it up to her hips. She carefully pulled on the strings, smoothly bringing its embrace into her waist. It drove the metal clamps on her breasts wild with pain. She could breathe in short gasps as she tied off the knot, balling the extra thread on itself. She took a wire hanger and carefully hooked the heavy zipper and pulled it down. Covered from head to toe in rubber and leather, she never felt more naked. She could no longer bend down so she had to bend her legs in order to reach the gag and gas mask. With these she headed down stairs.

She checked the kitchen clock as she reached the basement door. She had a full fifteen minutes. The hall clock chimed the hour. She left the basement door open for Richard. He would see the car in the garage and would know to look there for her. She turned on the light and slowly descended the stairs. Her crotch was so sensitive she felt she could orgasm at any minute. She couldn't let that happen. Not yet. Against the back wall of the cellar, she reached up for the secret latch and felt her nipples pinch again. Her lip quivering she fumbled the latch and a hidden section of wall. She remembered how Richard got the idea from Popular Carpenters.

She flicked the light to their little dungeon. She didn't have time to reminisce. She moved the stocks from the corner to the center of the room. They were mounted on a huge, heavy board. She then unhooked the rope and tackle from the wall and let it hang, then adjusted its height. She carefully maneuvered the stocks below it. She took a head stock from the wall and set it near the stocks already on the floor. She took the cuffs from the wall and the riding crop as well and set them in a pile.

She took down the leg spreader. She adjusted the length and strapped it below each knee. Awkwardly she knelt before the pile and took up the head stock. It had four chains leading from its corners and she connected each one to the mountain climber's carabineer on the block and tackle. It swayed ominously before her. She opened her mouth and packed the ball gag in. She pressed her thumb into it and felt her jaws stretch to the point of breaking before the ball slipped over her teeth and in. She slipped the leather straps over the smooth hood and cinched its buckles tight. She loved the feel of the leather pulling the corners of her mouth, pressing into her checks.

She then pulled the gas mask over her head. She was now completely contained in rubber. She felt its weight pulling her head forward, she could hear its diaphragm valves click as she drew each breath, echoing in her ears. She smelled rubber, tasted rubber, heard its soft rustle as she moved, felt it against her skin. Through the lenses of her gas mask she looked for the riding crop and set it before her. Then she clasped the handcuff against her left wrist. It gave a cold ratchetting grip and held her. Unyielding, inhuman, unrelenting. She shifted, lifting the stocks behind her and slipping her ankles into the half circles. Then she set the upper half down, closing the circle. She flipped down the clasp and closed its padlock with a hard, metal snap.

She sat up and her head bumped into the stocks above her. It was only a square piece of wood, a hole as big as her neck. She opened it, spreading it apart like a jaw. She let it slide about her, ready to close.

She waited, what she was doing was extremely dangerous. She had no keys. Too many things could happen and she would be trapped. A cramp, painful gas, even a fire! She couldn't be left alone. Even though the door to the basement and the door to the dungeon was open, with all the sound proofing on the walls, no one would ever hear her tiny, muffled cries. Once she closed the board about her neck, she was going to be in a painful position, all of her weight on her knees. In delicious pain. She wouldn't be able to escape. A sweet thought, but the risks had to be considered.

She would wait until she heard Richard enter the house. She could hear him stomping about in the kitchen though the open doors and easily finish her bondage before he made it down stairs.

She heard the hall clock chime the quarter hour. It was time. In her mind she saw Richard's car coming down the street, pulling behind her car in the drive way. Entering the kitchen, seeing the note on the Microwave, and the open basement door, he added two and two and knew where she was.

Her ears strained and she could hear a car, rumbling down the street. She knew it was him. She rose up as high as her knees could go. She had to pull on the board to lift herself a fraction higher to slip in her chin over. She felt its loose clamp about her neck and heard the click of its hardened steel padlock. Once closed, she could put the weight back onto her knees.

She heard the car coming up the drive way as her hands fumbled with the cuffs behind her back. She finally slipped it over her right wrist and pushed it into her butt to send it home with a solid, metal, staccato.

She was stretched, most of her weight on her knees, her breasts on fire and her crotch slowly smoldering, getting hotter in motion to her quick, strained grasps.

She listened for Richard.

She listened as the car faded away into the distance.

Wrong car. She had gotten too excited again. She was stuck now, but Richard was due home and minute, any second. The phone rang. She sighed as it rang, listened as the answerin machine picked it up. Felt her heart pound as she heard Richard's voice. `Hi honey. Still at work. Since mother isn't coming, we're gonna finish this project before we go. Be home at six or so, eight on the outside. Love You. Bye.'

The phone clicked and the house was silent again.

She was in too much pain, too much ecstacy. She could only close her eyes and imagine Richard coming down the stairs.

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