Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Andreabound in the Oubliette

by Andreabound

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© Copyright 2006 - Andreabound - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; toys; cons; X

Andreabound in the Oubliette by Andreabound Sbf; toys; cons; X

Andreabound in the Oubliette – Part One

Recently my bondage fantasies have turned to jails. I’ve started dreaming about what it would be like to be locked up for real, but being a single girl, my bondage adventures have been simple affairs up until now. I live in a modern apartment and there’s no way I could build a jail cell in the basement. My apartment is on the top floor for a start and I don’t have those kinds of skills anyway.

Browsing websites looking for inspiration, I came across a description of an oubliette – a place inside a jail where the worst offenders were kept. The oubliette was often essentially no more than a long hole in the ground with an opening at one end. The prisoner was slid in, sometimes chained up and left there to rot in despair. In some oubliettes the hole was part of a drain so that the prisoner would have the extra discomfort and humiliation of being part of a castle’s sewer system.

This got me to thinking. I couldn’t build a full jail cell but maybe I could create an oubliette of sorts somewhere in my apartment. Somewhere discrete of course as I occasionally had visitors.

Looking around my apartment I eventually put my head through the hatch to the attic – the one advantage of living on the top floor. Inside the attic space the roof sloped down at the front and back of the apartment from a high point of about six feet. At each end there was a brick wall. There were a few boxes scattered about from when I moved in a year or so ago. The floor was already boarded and would make walking about easy. I realised this was the ideal space to make my oubliette.

I got a local carpenter to build a partition up in the attic to box in the water tanks and carefully watched what he was doing under the pretext of providing regular refreshments. The type of construction he was doing would be fine for my purposes so, making some excuse about needing a dust free compartment for storing some of my belongings, I asked him to build an additional partition about three feet away from the edge of the attic and eight feet long with one end against the far brick wall. The other end would be left open. He gave me a strange look but said he would be back the next day to finish up.

That night I used his drill to fix a large metal eye-plate (a wall plate with a fixed U-shaped bracket) to the brick wall that would form the far end of my oubliette. I carefully cleaned up the brick dust and rubbed the metal bits to make it look like the plate had been there for ever. If the carpenter noticed the plate the next day when he built my partition, he didn’t say anything.

At last I had my prison! I crept into the tunnel that had been created and found, with the sloping roof effectively forming the ceiling and one wall, I had a very tight and dark space to live out my fantasies. I screwed a large eyebolt into the floor just below the eye-plate and, wriggling out of the tunnel, screwed another eyebolt to the floor about six feet beyond the open end of the oubliette.

I then set about collecting the various bits and pieces needed to complete my incarceration. I took one of those little mesh bags used for holding detergent tablets in the washing machine and replaced the drawstring with a strong long bootlace. I filled the bag full of ice and tested its strength. There was no way without suspending my whole weight on it that this bag would tear so I emptied the bag and set a new tray of ice to freeze. I would also need a two gallon container full of water, a towel to soak up the water and a torch so I could see what I was doing in the oubliette. After thinking long and hard I decided that I would need a pillow for my head; the rest of me would have to lie on the bare floor boards. I realised it would be hard work lying just on the boards but figured this would help the feeling of authenticity.

After sorting out my various restraints, I started thinking about an appropriate costume for my adventure. I discounted the option of being naked as I preferred to wear restrictive clothing during my bondage sessions. Some sort of medieval clothing would be best but I didn’t have anything like that so I would have to improvise.

Eventually I felt ready and unable to resist any longer and decided to be sent to jail that night. Luckily it was a Friday so I wouldn’t be needed for work the next day. This was good as I was planning to be locked in my oubliette for an extended period. I was already getting very wet down below and realised if I didn’t get started soon I would have to relieve myself and lose some of the impact of being forcibly restrained in a position where I wouldn’t be able to give myself satisfaction for a few hours or so.

Andreabound in the Oubliette – Part Two

I decided to play the part of a peasant girl caught pleasuring herself in public. If this weren’t the fourth time I been brought up before the magistrate for this offence it might have just earned me another day in the village stocks. But as it’s clear the set out punishment hasn’t cured me, I will be taken to the castle and locked up out of sight in the dungeons instead so my lewd behaviour cannot not upset the pious-minded villagers any longer. This might seem harsh to us these days but it’s clear to the villagers that I have an unclean sprit in me and I need time to reflect upon and repent of my sins. They also feel that the torment I will undergo in the oubliette will drive the daemons from me. I printed out a declaration from the local magistrate to that effect and stuck it to the wall of my prison.

Back down in my bedroom I dressed ready for the coming sentence. My costume consisted of thick black woollen over-the-knee stockings with ribbons on the tops, a white blouse with rounded collar and capped sleeves over which I fastened a lace-up black corset. A long flowing black skirt, thigh length boots (the high-heels weren’t very authentic, but what the heck), short black lace gloves and a white bonnet to secure my long blonde locks.

Grabbing a large glass full of ice from the freezer, the detergent bag, my bondage gear and a few other bits and pieces, I headed back up into the attic. Once there I prepared for my ordeal by slipping dildos in my butt and pussy before strapping on my leather chastity belt. As a serial self abuser it seemed appropriate to be incarcerated in such a state. I carefully balanced the two gallon water container on the edge of the attic hatch furthest from the oubliette and connected a thin chain to it which I fed through the eyebolt on the floor outside the entrance to my prison and left the other end free.

I locked short thick chains around my waist, my thighs and above and below my bosom. A metal ring was threaded onto another short chain which I used to link the thigh and waist chains at the back. I then locked on my leather wrist, elbow and ankle cuffs with the tiny padlocks I had bought for that purpose. I locked my ankle cuffs together with a large padlock which also captured the loose end of the chain leading to the water container. Another slightly long length of chain passed from the ankle cuffs through the ring on the link chain between my thighs and waist and ended in another metal ring so that it couldn’t pull back through. This length of chain I’d measured to ensure it would pull tight to the bottom of my butt when I straightened my legs. For good measure I wrapped my knees with several loops of chain. I finished all this off by locking on my harness bit gag (the nearest thing I had to a scold’s bridle) and my leather posture collar.

In keeping with the non-consensual aspect of my scenario I had decided to leave the timing of my incarceration to chance. I rolled a die to see how many ice cubes to put into the bag. It rolled a six! I’d already planned to roll the die three times - what if I rolled a six each time? I’d never really put myself in bondage for more than an hour or so before. Sure, I’d used an ice release many times but never with more than one or two ice cubes so I had no idea how long it would take for a whole bag of ice to melt. 

I almost chickened out then about rolling the die a second and third time but I knew even eighteen cubes would not make for a dangerous amount of time and the uncertainty of the length of my sentence was just increasing my anticipation. So I put six ice cubes in the bag and rolled a second time. Two! That was better. More ice went into the bag and the die rolled for the last time. Six again! My heart sank but I remembered this sentence was not of my making so I dropped another six cubes in the now quite full detergent bag and pulled the drawstring. The bag felt heavy and who knows how long I would be a captive to all this ice? Better have a large gulp of water in case I dehydrate; although I suspected I would pay for that later.

Leaving a full set of keys for all restraints by the entrance to my lair, I grabbed the last few padlocks, my nipple clamps, the ice bag, pillow, towel and torch, reached round the attic hatch to switch off the light and headed into the darkness that was the oubliette.

Restrained as I was, it took some time to squirm into my narrow chamber and this was with my hands free. On the return journey I wouldn’t have the use of my arms and would have to wriggle back out using just the friction I could generate between my body and the floor. That was going to be a journey!

Once I reached the end of the tunnel I switched on the torch so I could see what I was doing, placed one large padlock near my butt where I could reach it later, placed the towel and pillow below the eye-plate and reached up to thread the drawstring of the ice bag down through the eye-plate on the wall. The bag rested on the eye-plate and I fed the dangling drawstring through the eyebolt on the floor (this was so I wouldn’t be able to reach the ice bag later), and used a padlock to fasten the end of the drawstring to a ring on my posture collar. I was now locked to the end wall of my oubliette by my neck and even with my hands free I wasn’t going anywhere until that ice melted. I suppose if I pulled on the drawstring hard enough I might be able to break it, but once my hands were out the way I was going nowhere for a while.

Time to attach the nipple clamps through little tears I’d made in the blouse for this use. (I’d probably regret this later too). Grabbing the remaining two padlocks, I switched off the torch and by feel locked my elbow cuffs to each side of the chains around my bosom. Last of all I reached behind me and found the padlock lying near my butt. It took a while but eventually I was able to feed the hasp through my wrist cuffs and the ring at the end of the chain going down to my ankles.

Andreabound in the Oubliette – Part Three

Snap! This was it; I was now really trapped until the ice melted. I took stock of my situation and suddenly remembered the two gallon container of water perched on the edge of the attic hatch. In all the excitement I’d forgotten all about it. If you remember, the container was connected to my ankles by a long chain that also ran through an eyebolt on the floor outside the oubliette. I’d estimated the length would give a little slack in the chain when I was in the oubliette and my legs were fairly straight but if I pulled my legs up into a more comfortable position, the chain would pull the container over the edge of the hatch and pull my legs very straight. I would be stretched out between the drawstring attaching my neck to the wall and the weight of the water container pulling on my legs.

This was the only risky part of the adventure; I had to hope the friction of the floorboards would prevent me from being pulled out of the oubliette and thereby hanging myself. I was counting that two gallons wasn’t enough weight to move my body and that the posture collar would, as a last resort, provide enough padding to spread any additional pressure and prevent me from choking. I didn’t feel there was much real risk of strangling but the slight possibility of danger, and the knowledge that at the very least my position would be made seriously more uncomfortable, would help me focus on not bending my legs too far. Definitely something to think about in the long hours ahead.

I had planned to be in darkness but the lack of windows in the attic, the position of my body in the small space between my head and the entrance to the oubliette, and the fact that there were no lights on anywhere in the house combined to produce an utter darkness I hadn’t ever experienced before. This is what it must be like to be put in a hole in the ground and forgotten, I thought. Creepy.

Without the use of my eyes, of course my other senses were on full alert. I listened carefully. I could make out the traffic in the road outside as a low rumble. That might help me work out what time of day or night it was, help me keep track of time. I thought about how in a real castle I might be tell the time by hearing the buzz of the market stalls setting up in the morning and leaving at night, by the calls of the watchmen and the coming and going of the guards. They might even bring me the occasional meal or drink; when they remembered I was there.

I suddenly realised there was a sound missing - I couldn’t hear the dripping of melting ice. I panicked for a moment thinking the ice wasn’t melting then worked out that the drips must be travelling down the drawstring and dripping straight onto the towel. I wouldn’t be able to measure my progress towards freedom that way.

At least my bonds weren’t too tight. My nipples were already complaining about the clamps but I knew that pain would recede into the background given time. None of the chains were biting into me or pinching anywhere and with my legs slightly bent my wrists weren’t being pulled on too hard giving me a little slack there. I must remember that would change if I inadvertently pulled the container of water off its perch on the edge of the hatch.

I could feel the dildos inside me as a welcome presence. That too would change if I needed to pee later. I almost regretted not using my vibrating dildo but then that wouldn’t have been in keeping with the scenario. In any case the whole purpose of the punishment meted out to me was to deny me the pleasure I was craving so publicly. Perhaps I could rub myself to satisfaction on the floor but I mustn’t forget the consequences of moving my legs too much. No that would have to wait for later.

Next of course, as in any bondage situation, is the need to see if I can escape. I pulled on the drawstring attached to my collar wondering if I could pull it loose. Of course I knew that I couldn’t put enough weight on the string to snap it or crush the ice into small enough pieces to fit through the eye-plate or to rip the bag the ice was in, never mind breaking the padlock or tearing off my collar; but I had to try.

My cuffs were padlocked on and I knew from experience they weren’t coming off anytime soon. Maybe I could work my ankles free? Not that it would help my situation any to have my legs unbound. I was so intent on testing all my bonds that I forgot about the water container. That is until I heard a whooshing noise and suddenly my legs went tight. Surely I hadn’t messed up already – only five minutes into my captivity? The unrelenting pressure on my legs though was telling me different.

With my legs pointed straight out and my hands pulled tight to my butt, there was, I realised, less friction between me and the floor and I started to slide a little. Panicked I wriggled until I had regained the lost ground but realised I would have to be vigilant to avoid slipping down the oubliette and tightening the link between my neck and the wall. It meant I couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not that I planned to, but I was beginning to worry that I might be here much longer than I had first thought.

Part of this worry was the realisation that, now the heat of excitement had worn off, the attic was noticeable cooler than I was used to around the house. I wondered if that would make the ice melt that much more slowly. In fact I realised I was really at the mercy of the outside temperature rather than the artificial environment of the house. I tried to remember what the weather forecast was but then I was so busy with preparations that I hadn’t checked. Not feeling it was important at the time I suppose. It did tend to get cold this time of year – sometimes dropping below freezing at night. I wouldn’t be that cold inside of course, but perhaps somewhat colder than if I’d been tucked up in bed tonight rather than stretched out on a bare floor with little warm clothing. I guess it all added to the authenticity of being in a cold, dark, dank dungeon but it was the ice not being warm rather than me being cold that worried me the most.

Andreabound in the Oubliette – Part Four

The next hours passed in a blur. Sometimes I could feel every second passing; sometimes it seemed like hours had flown by. I guess it was the disorientation of being blind and not being able to move much. At last the ultimate bondage experience I had been seeking for years. Mostly I was just bored. I suppose that’s how real prisoners feel. I desperately wanted out, but at the same time I was savouring every moment and never wanted the jail cell to open and to see blinding light again.

The worst of it was the constant pressure on my legs and the constant readjustments I had to make to avoid slipping towards the hatch. And now I really needed to pee – and relieve myself in other ways. And the clamps were starting to ache in ways I’d never experienced before. That alone told me that I more than passed my previous bondage endurance record. At least the worse of the cold seemed to have passed. Did this mean morning was approaching or did it just indicate I was getting used to it?

Suddenly I heard a crack and my neck felt loose. The ice must have melted enough for the bag to pass through the eye-plate. I started to wriggle down the oubliette on my way to freedom. I’d gone about a foot when I was brought up short. At first I panicked again thinking the drawstring had snagged on something. Then I realised the hole in the eyebolt on the floor was smaller than that in the eye-plate. I hadn’t reckoned on that. I would have to wait for the ice to melt some more. At least freedom couldn’t be far away now.

It’s strange though, how when something is evidently close at hand it seems to take for ever to arrive. That last half-hour or so (who can say how long I waited for the ice to fully melt) seemed the longest of the whole adventure.

At last my neck felt freer again and I started to squirm and wriggle out of the oubliette with vigour. I had planned on this being more difficult than getting in, with my arms and hands out of commission and all, but it seemed to take for ages to wriggle each few inches. The whole process wasn’t helped by having the slack constantly pulled out of my legs. Also I’d not reckoned on the nipple clamps giving me such trouble. They kept getting caught on clothing and by the time I wriggled free of the oubliette entrance I was sorer than I’d ever been.

Once I reached the keys, I was able to free myself without too much difficulty. I removed my restraints, bought myself to orgasm several times and climbed down into the bedroom to undress and take a long much needed relaxing bath. Not of course before looking at the clock. It was nine o’clock in the morning. I’d been captive for over twelve hours. And didn’t I know it.

Relaxing in the bath I relived the experience; the stiffness in my joints, the fear of strangling, the boredom, the cold, the scrapes and bruises gained wriggling in and out of the oubliette, the discomfort of not being able to relieve either my need to pee or my sexual frustration, the dryness in my mouth and throat from wearing the gag for so long, and my very sore nipples.

And decided that next time I would roll six dice.




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