Ride Em' Oak Tree

This experience really does not qualify as self-bondage in the pure sense of how most of us think of the act. But it was one hell of an experience. During a period several years ago, I carried on a brief relationship with a woman named Carol who was very much into bondage, exhibition and forced dressing. We frequently would help each other out by acting as safeties for our own games of self-bondage. The other would come into the picture and act as rescuer should things not work out as planned. It was a most reassuring way of getting into more elaborate situations of restraint without the risk. I wouldn't advise anyone trying anything like this any other way.............as you will soon see.

A large stand of woods existed near where I was living in those days and it was there that I would from time to time take myself for some of my more rustic arrangements. Such was the case one warm June day when I positioned myself atop a large fallen oak tree. Hanging several feet above the ground, I had found that I could straddle the tree much like a cowboy riding a horse and still have my feet clear the ground by a good two feet. I cleared the underbrush away, giving myself a cozy little hideout and drove two wooded stakes into the ground to either side of the tree.

I mounted the tree and with the use of a slipknot arrangement, tied my ankles off to the stakes quite tautly. A chain padlocked around my waist held a pair of handcuffs in the small of my back and I was gagged by way of an oversized ball gag strap and several rolls of athletic tape encasing my head like a cocoon. I had to have something to drive the situation, a reason for trying to get loose. So, I took two sets of self-piercing rings and attached them, one set to my ears and the other set to my nipples. Dressed only in a pair of sheer pantyhose and with both finger and toenails liberally coated in red nail polish I locked my hands behind my back and settled down for an afternoon of true bondage. True bondage? Yes! I did this without a knife or key for release.

Early afternoon passed into evening. As this happened, I began to sense that something was amiss and my occasional tries against my bonds began to take on a more concerted effort. Escape however, was not to be. Both feet remained tight and taunt and without a key, getting out of my handcuffs quite simply were impossible. The gag and tape made sure that no noise could escape my lips. I was thoroughly and totally, 100% helpless and there was absolutely nothing that I could do about it.

Darkness soon began to fall. Carol could have come and gone a dozen times over by then, but a more pressing issue was beginning to make itself visible off in the distance. At first, it was just an occasional flash of lighting. Nothing much to worry about as heat lightning occurs like that frequently in the south. But in short order, the occasional flash became a show fit for the 4th of July. There was a storm approaching and it was a bad one. The wind began to pick up, the lightning became brighter and sharper and the thunder menacing in intensity and deepness.

The closer the storm grew, the more I struggled in my bondage. Escape was still hopeless but I continued at it anyway. Then the storm hit. In all my life, I had never seen such torrents of water and such a vicious display of sight and sound. There was nothing I could do but sit there and endure.

Carol had actually become aware of my planned session right after I left her the phone message about it early that afternoon and was on her way out the door to address it and me when an unanticipated work emergency arose. By the time she was able to leave, she and her office were also caught up in the storm. Carol left as soon as she could and made her way immediately towards me. By the time she reached my general location, the heavy rains from the storm had filled a nearby stream and sent it overflowing onto the road. Authorities had closed the road and Carol was kept from getting through to me.

The night egged on for both Carol and me. Unsure of my predicament and me, Carol fretted something fierce but she couldn't say or do anything to gain access without drawing alarm and attention. I, on the other hand, can think of little else more terrifying than to be alone, immobile and helpless in woods at night. Each and every little sound sent my blood to racing and my struggles for escape off anew.

Maybe it was my relentless attempts, maybe it was the incredible amounts of water that fell. But at some point during the night, both stakes holding my feet tethered down began to loosen. In due time, I succeeded in pulling one up. From there getting the other out of the ground was easy. I began to make my way out of the forest stakes dragging behind, head still tape encased and hands still cuffed in back. I reached the road, saw where it had been flooded and continued on. I ran headlong into Carol about halfway along and she right there in the middle of the road unlocked me from my cuffs and cut the rope and tape away. Both of my thighs were numb from sitting astride the tree for somewhere in excess of 12 hours and what was left of my hose amounted to little more than the waistband. Both sets of piercing rings had done as advertised, forcing their way through both earlobes and nipples. This time, I kept them and still have them. My hands and ankles were bruised and swollen and my jaw ached something terrible from being held open for so long. But I was no worse for the wear. Three days later, both Carol and I returned to "our tree" affectionately dubbed "Trigger" and she learned first hand what riding the wild oak was like.

Lillan's Nexus

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