Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Airbed Self-Bondage

by Gowenlock

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© Copyright 2005 - Gowenlock - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; cuffs; susp; clamps; M/f; bdsm; oral; cons; X

We live right next to a golf course, and my husband George is an avid golfer, to the point where he owns his own golf cart, and he can take the cart directly over to the clubhouse at tee time.

I don’t like to play golf.  I tried it a few times but I am not very good at it, and it just doesn’t excite me.

So while my husband plays golf I play with self-bondage.  He is usually gone for several hours, which is just about the right length of time for me to be ready to be released when he returns.  He always takes advantage of whatever situation I have gotten myself into and makes me suck him or otherwise service him before he releases me, and so we both enjoy my self-bondage.

And I enjoy being tied up hand and foot.  I like having someone else make my sexual decisions for me (preferably my husband, but never say ‘always or never’).  When I was a kid playing ‘Cowboys and Indians’ with the other kids, I was always the one that wound up being tied to a tree and being groped by the boys.  The ‘Story of O’ is one of my favorite books, and we own a hard bound copy that sits on our coffee table.

We had purchased an air-bed on the internet to use in the spare room when we have company.  Let me say that this is not just an air mattress!  It is a full queen-size bed that stands 28” high (same as a real bed) and inflates with an electric motor in about 3 minutes.  When it is inflated and made up with sheets and blankets you cannot tell it from a real bed.  It deflates and folds into a sort of duffle bag for storage when not in use.

As soon as I saw it I knew I wanted to be spread-eagled on it.  However, it did not have a frame or posts like a real bed.  My fertile mind worked on that for a few days and came up with a great idea that would take some construction work.

A trip to the local hardware/builders supply/big box store got me what I needed.  I came home with four 4” x 4” posts that were 4’ long, and four 2” by 6” boards to build a sturdy frame around the perimeter of the air-bed.  Also included in my purchases were enough metal brackets and nuts and bolts so that my contraption would be sturdy enough to support my weight, and I went to work.  I’m a tough little broad (age 28), and I can use hand tools and build things as well as the boys can.

Using my new lumber and posts, I built a frame just a bit bigger than the inflated bed, and anchored a 4” x 4” post at each corner.  Since the corner posts were 4’ high they stuck up above the bed.  I screwed in a solid screw eye into each post as an anchor point.  I now had a 4-poster queen-size bed.

George knew I was up to something, but I kept him out of the spare bedroom (it also functions as our “dungeon”).  So he only knew that when he returned from his Saturday golf game he might find me tied up somehow.

Saturday came, and George left for his 9:00 A.M. tee time.  I had eaten a light breakfast, and had taken a shower.  As soon as George was out the door I headed for the spare bedroom.

Sometimes for self-bondage I dress in slutty outfits, but this time I wanted to be spreadeagled naked.  I undressed and folded my clothes and neatly laid them on the dresser, along with the keys to the padlocks I was going to use.

I had inflated the airbed to capacity and had run a string from the release valve up to where I would be able to reach it when I was tied.

I buckled on locking leather ankle cuffs with about a foot of chain attached to each cuff.  When they were attached to the screw eyes on the posts at the foot of the bed I would be spread wide and my legs would be elevated slightly.

I buckled on locking leather wrist cuffs with about 6” of chain attached to each cuff.  We prefer these locking leather cuffs to steel handcuffs (they are inescapable and much more comfortable for extended captivity).

Positioning myself on the inflated airbed on my back, I squirmed around and managed to attach the ankle chains to the screw eyes in the respective posts at the foot of the bed.  My legs were spread and elevated, just like I wanted them.

I buckled a ball gag in place extra tight.  I snapped a clothespin on each nipple.  My pussy burned in anticipation, but I knew if I rubbed it I would go off like a roman candle and take the edge off, so I refrained.

This was the moment of no return.  I looked around to see if I had forgotten anything.  Coffee pot turned off, doors are locked, A/C is set at a comfortable level.  Here goes nothing!

I had to lunge to reach the screw eye in the post by my left hand, but I was able to lock the end of the 1’ chain from my wrist cuff to the screw eye with a small padlock.  I checked to see that the string from the airbed release valve was in place (it was).  With another lunge I was able to lock the end of the 1’ chain from my right wrist to the screw eye with another small padlock and my imprisonment was complete.

I lay on my back, naked and spreadeagled, with my ankles and wrists spread tautly and elevated about a foot above the bed.  I had done my self-bondage well and there was no slack and very little movement available to me.  I squirmed and twisted but the posts and the frame I had constructed held firm.  I wasn’t going anywhere until George finished his golf game and returned home to liberate me.  I had intentionally removed all clocks from the room and the blinds were closed so there was no way to measure the passage of time.

I luxuriated in the feel of my restraints.  The airbed was extremely comfortable, and I laid there naked while daydreaming of sex and cocks and tongues and pretended that I had been kidnapped by a robber baron who kept me chained to a bed while he schemed to sell me to another robber baron.  My pussy burned and was dripping wet but was out of reach.  The clothespins tormented my tits and sweat dripped from my armpits.

I had one more step I wanted to try.  By giving the string a good jerk I could open the valve and let the air out of the airbed.  I knew it would leave me suspended off the floor and I wondered if I should let well enough alone and just lay here in comfortable bondage until George returned to take his liberties with me as the price of my freedom.

But I had to push the envelope.  I had to experience everything.  So I gave the string a good jerk.

The valve popped just like a cork from a bottle of champagne.  There was a pent-up rush of air and immediately the airbed starting going soft under me.  In just a minute or two the airbed had collapsed into a heap on the floor and I was hanging from my chains with my ass about a foot above the floor.  When I tipped my head way back my hair reached the floor but that was all.

Shit!  This time I may have gone too far!  The chains are stretched tight and the leather cuffs are digging into my wrists and ankles.  I am really hung out to dry.  I can twist and turn a little, but nothing relieves the strain on my limbs.  In a couple of minutes my arms go to sleep.  My only visible horizon is the wall on one side, the ceiling above, and my boobs when I look toward my feet.  Gagged, I can’t do more than grunt.  I tip my head back and vertigo sets in and the room spins for a minute.

And I am still horny!  My thighs are open and spread wide and my ankles are pointed up – in the perfect position for sex if there was a man in the room.  My nipples burn from the clothespins and my boobs ache to be caressed.  Despite the stringent position I am in, I slip back in to sub-space again and daydream about sex and cocks and tongues.  This time I pretend I have been kidnapped and the kidnappers have put me on a rack to stretch me until I confess or submit.

Time dragged by, unmeasured and uncaring.  Time has no end and no beginning.  I struggle at first but then relax and hang limp in my chains.  Sweat forms in my armpits.  The air conditioner kicks on and cool air washes over my naked body.  Occasionally a horn blows or a siren is audible from the world outside but in my darkened bedroom there is only quiet punctuated by an occasional creak from one of the posts that hold me suspended and spreadeagled.

Suddenly I heard footsteps in the hall.  I hope it is George and I hope he did not bring a golf buddy home with him.  My feet are toward the door and so when he enters the room the view must be bizarre (assholes and elbows).

George walks slowly around me, taking in my imprisonment and savoring my naked predicament.  He squats by my head and smirks and gives me a kiss on the forehead (there is alcohol on his breath).  He steps to my feet and strokes my upturned soles (I am ticklish and this makes me squirm).  He snaps a finger at each breast and the clothespin thereon and this makes me squirm some more.  He absent-mindedly strokes my wide-spread vagina and this makes me really squirm.

Then he steps out of the room and closes the door.  I “umppph” into my gag but there is no response.  In a few minutes I think I can hear the shower running in the other end of the house.

After a few more minutes, George comes back into the room.  This time he is naked, and smells like he just showered.  He has his dick (nice hard-on) in one hand and a riding crop in the other.  Taking pity on my obvious discomfort, he replaces the plug in the airbed and flips the switch to inflate it again.  The electric air pump whirs for three minutes and the airbed is firm beneath me again.  The strain is relieved from my limbs and the blood returns to my hands and feet, although I am still chained in a tight spreadeagle position.

George unclips the clothespins from my nipples, and the blood rushes back there too.  For a minute the pain is intense as the blood returns. 

George takes the tip of the riding crop and nudges my labia.  The stiff leather probes my crotch and the inside of my thighs.  He swats me with the crop a couple of times on my thighs, not hard enough to leave a mark but hard enough to sting.  He strokes the soles of my feet with the riding crop and then swats them also.  Playing the role of the master, he reverses the crop and slides the leather handle into my vagina.  Damn, it feels good.  The leather stitching on the handle of the crop drags across my clit, and I almost swoon.  I am horny and hot and wet and no lubricant is necessary.  I orgasm almost immediately, and it is a good one (Mother Nature may have given men the gift of external genitalia, but she gave women the gift of multiple orgasms).  But what I really want is a hard dick inside me (in my mouth, or my ear, my cunt, or any place I can get it).

Taking pity on my aching jaws, he unbuckles and removes the gag.  I move my jaws in relief.  We kiss passionately and then George retrieves the keys from my pile of folded clothing.  He unlocks my ankles from the leather cuffs and then slides a pillow under my ass, elevating my hips.  Bending down, he licks my crotch (I keep it shaved).  Moving between my thighs, he slides his dick into my cunt and we start a tumultuous steamy good fuck.

My husband is a skilled and compassionate lover.  We heave and thrust and grunt and moan and couple like animals.  With my hips elevated, his dick feels like it is reaching every crevice inside my womb.  With my arms still spread wide by the restraints I have little choice but to respond to his ministrations.  His hips slam into mine and I arch my back to meet his pelvis.  We both orgasm in a screaming crescendo and it feels like the earth moved.  George’s cum shoots into my wet cave and time stands still.  The air reeks of sex.

George collapses on top of me and we both gasp for breath.  After while our heart rates slow somewhat and our breathing returns to normal.

After a few minutes, with my arms still chained, and my bladder also starting to feel some pressure, I nudge him awake.  He moves to a position near my head and presents his now-limp dick to me.  It is still wet with the juices from my vagina.  I giggle and suck on his dick with enthusiasm.  In a few minutes he is hard again and I suck his dick deep into my throat.  Soon he erupts in my mouth and I swallow his cum (when you are tied you don’t have much choice).

George regains his feet and leaves the room for a few minutes, probably to wash up.  Just to prove he can be a prick, before he leaves, he replaces my ankle cuffs and then pops the valve open on the air mattress, and once again I am left hanging by the straps and unable to touch the floor.

After a while he returns and takes pity on me and releases me from the restraints.  We shower together and take a long nap.


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