Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Avonbridge Adventure

by Abrank

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© Copyright 2008 - Abrank - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; public; corset; chain; toys; cons; X

This story is extracted from the manuscript autobiography of a woman who called herself C.  A previous extract, called “Three Roles With Jim”, is posted elsewhere.  You do not need to read that story in order to appreciate this one.  The chapter in the book in which this story appears was titled “Avonbridge Mall” but I have taken the liberty of giving this story a catchier title.  C was vague about timing, but I think this story probably took place two or three years after her experience with Jim when she was in her late 20s or very early 30s.  The only thing you need to know is that C regarded her mind as being inhabited by two or three independent entities.  The one she refers to as S was subconscious and was sensual and somewhat sadistic.  The entity E was a conscious one and was emotional and erotic.  C herself was quite rational, but was strongly influenced by the other entities.

The Adventure

I have a large padlock, weighing over two pounds, that I call Big Bertha.  She glitters with chrome plate.  The sensuous reflective curve of her shackle is marred only by the word “HARDENED” stamped by some philistine.  The front of her bulbous body shines like a mirror, the perfection of her back spoiled only by a repetition of the word.  The orifice for her key is located, like a female sexual organ, underneath.  When Big Bertha is ready, insertion of the long and pointed key followed by a twisting motion produces an orgasmic click, and she springs open with a convulsive jerk.  She is very particular about which keys will produce such a reaction, I know of only two, and she is regularly serviced by each of them.  I keep Big Bertha polished, and when not in use she lives in a chamois leather bag.

One night I awoke in an aroused state thinking about Big Bertha and how exciting it would be to wear her in public.  S had created a detailed script for an adventure, had enlisted the support of E, and had waked me up to inform and persuade me.  With such backing there was little I could do to oppose the plan.  The scenario envisioned by S was that I would walk in public dressed in provocative attire and in bondage.  The provocative attire, miniskirt and high heels, would draw attention to myself, and at the same time I would be constantly aware of my bondage since my thighs would caress Big Bertha as I walked; she would be secured between them and barely covered by my miniskirt.  Thinking about the scenario in my half-awakened state aroused me, so I decided to perform it at the earliest practical opportunity, the following Saturday.

Once I make a commitment, even a private one to myself, I find it hard to back out.  Failure usually engenders a feeling of guilt and a desire to punish myself.  Although there was some possibility of public embarrassment, the danger of being seen by a coworker was minimal since I commute to work in the city.

In preparation for my adventure, I placed Big Bertha’s two keys in two different malls.  This was a precaution to ensure safety while forcing a real bondage scenario.  Were I to plant only one key, I might chicken out and never leave home.  The use of keys in two separate malls was a safety precaution in case something happened to one key rendering it unrecoverable.  After getting home from work on Friday, I put on jeans and drove to Avonbridge Mall.  I walked around searching for a suitable place to hide the key.  In the center court some tropical trees and small bushes were growing in a raised island.  I sat on the stonework ledge at the edge of the island, leaned way back, then reached out and put one key under a bush.  With what I had planned I knew that I would not be able to recover it this way.  I pushed it into the mulch so that it could not be seen, next to the stem of the bush so that I would be able to find it the following day.  I then drove the few miles to Keystone Mall, and found a similar setting.  I hid the second key further back so that it would be more difficult to recover.

I put Big Bertha in the refrigerator and went to bed.  I was quite excited so I slept with my hands handcuffed behind my back to prevent myself masturbating.  On Saturday morning I woke before dawn, my mind filled with thoughts about my impending adventure.  But I course I could not release myself until it became sufficiently light to read the numbers on the combination lock that held me chained to the bed.  I then retrieved the handcuff key and released my hands.  I went to the toilet and took a long hot shower, massaging my wrists vigorously in an attempt to remove the indentations produced by the handcuffs.

My anticipation of the day suppressed any thoughts of hunger or food, so I skipped breakfast except for a glass of orange juice.  This abstention made me feel virtuous, and gave me hope that I might be able to lace my corset a little tighter than usual.  But first I inserted my large butt plug.  This was not easy, even after many previous insertions.  I oiled it, and then pushed its head into my anus guiding it carefully with my hand.  I couldn’t push it all the way in since it gets much wider away from the head.  Holding it in place I squatted so that the base of the plug touched the floor.  Thinking relaxing thoughts, I pressed down with the weight of my body, while straining as if expelling feces.  It still wouldn’t go all the way in, so I rocked up and down to prepare myself.  A moment to summon my courage, a big push down, a painful stretch of my sphincter, and it slid home.  As my anus closed around the neck of the plug I felt a sense both of accomplishment and of relief.  The base of the plug is fairly large, large enough to be uncomfortable.  But it served two purposes; it prevented the plug going all the way in, and, when my bondage was complete, would prevent me from removing it.

Next I put on a white stretchy leotard.  This was several sizes too small for me, but I loved the compression.  It stopped my corset from chafing my skin, and would also prevent the chain from cutting too deeply.  I stepped into it and pulled it up.  It was difficult to get past my hips.  Once past I carefully pulled it up to put pressure on both my butt plug and my pussy.  I eased it over my breasts flattening them, then worked my arms through the arm holes and, with some struggling, pulled the wide shoulder straps in place.  Once I had my corset on, it would be difficult to bend, so next I put on my pantyhose and shoes.  Following the theme of drawing attention to my legs, I selected fishnet pantyhose and my black shoes with the 5-inch heels.  I had become quite good at walking in these shoes and anticipated no problems walking through the mall.  They had fashionably wide heels and so were quite stable.  I had been thinking about getting some shoes with six-inch stiletto heels, which would have added to the excitement of my outfit, but even if I had them, I doubt that I would have courage to wear them in public.

Next I put on my white corset.  This was one of my favorite things.  It had a long steel busk in front, and laces in the back so it was a little tricky to get it tightly laced all by myself.  But I had developed a pretty good technique over the years.  I have put an eyebolt about four feet up in the wall opposite the long mirror.  I clip a karabiner into this.  After fastening the front busk, I find the two loops of the corset lacing at my waist and pull them out to the side.  Being careful not to twist them I slip them onto the karabiner.  I can now lean back and tighten the lacing next to my waist my body. 

Looking in the mirror behind me, and reaching back with my hands, I pull the laces tight at the top of the corset, and then work the tightness down by pulling the cord through ever lower eyelets.  When the slack reaches one or two holes above my waist, it is taken up by my leaning body and I move backwards.  I then repeat the process from the bottom, and then alternate from the top and bottom.  Towards the end I try to expel as much air as possible to make the corset tight.  This method, although laborious, gets the corset as tight as I want, tight enough to be painful if I persist long enough.  I realize that the more classic method where I would hang from a lacing bar while someone else tightened the lacing would produce a tighter fit since I could relax the muscles in my body more and perhaps expel more air.  But I find that my method gets the corset quite tight enough for my purposes.  Once it is sufficiently tight, I wrap the ends of the lacing around my waist and tie it off.  To prevent myself removing the corset I might secure my hands, or lock a chain around my waist, or put a token lock on the ends of the laces.

I find that after wearing my corset for an hour, I can tighten the laces some more.  But today, the corset was not the main focus of my bondage.  I was wearing it to feel good.

I planned to put a chain around my waist and, to prevent it marking my beautiful corset, I put on another stretchy white leotard, but in a larger size than the first.

Next I began my bondage proper.  I had, and have, a silver chain I call Cindy.  Cindy has welded links and so is quite strong, but she has the useful property that her links are wide enough to thread her tail through.  But they are only just wide enough, so threading would be tedious work were it not for the anticipation of her stricture.  I started by wrapping Cindy around my waist and threading her tail through her head.  Feeding her tail all the way through created a loop around my waist.  I then threaded her tail through her neck, the link next to her head in my waist loop, and fed it all the way through.  I tightened the waist loop through her head, and then pulled the last few links through her neck.  I now had a tight waistband than could not be undone or loosened while her tail was under tension.  I could feel Cindy through my corset, but she didn’t add any additional constriction, just a pleasurable feeling of additional bondage.  I slid Cindy’s head around to the middle of my back then brought her tail forward between my legs and up to the front of my waist.  I fed her tail through a link near my navel, then tightened it, positioning Cindy so that she passed over the butt plug and between the lips of my pussy.  The leotards and pantyhose would prevent my skin from being caught between her links; that had happened to me once and had been very painful.  Next I selected a link between my pussy and my anus, and fed Cindy’s tail through it.  This was quite difficult to do with my body restricted by my corset, but eventually I managed it.  I pulled it tight leaving a short tail dangling between my thighs.

I walked around the bedroom to test the tightness of my bondage, I felt Cindy pressing on my butt plug, between my legs, and on my clit.  She was tight but not painful.  I went downstairs and removed Big Bertha from the refrigerator.  Fighting the stricture of the corset, I locked her through the first free link in Cindy’s dangling tail.  This secured Cindy so I could neither remove nor loosen her.  I walked around experimentally. It felt very strange and sexy to have the cold steel of Big Bertha dangling between my legs.  She swayed and brushed my inner thighs as I walked but, despite her weight, I didn’t feel any pull on Cindy, she was so tight.   There were a few links of Cindy’s tail still dangling.  I didn’t want these making a noise by clinking against Big Bertha, so I took a small padlock and secured the tail to a link behind my butt.  A couple of links still hung down, but didn’t touch Big Bertha.

I walked back upstairs, aroused by the feel of cold steel between my thighs.  I put the key to the small padlock on my dresser, so I would be unable to remove Cindy at the mall even after I had retrieved Big Bertha’s key.  I took the mini skirt that I planned wear from the dresser.  This was not my shortest skirt since I needed one long enough to conceal Big Bertha.  The skirt was leather, and zipped up the side.  The combination of the corset, Cindy and my high heels made it difficult to put the skirt on.  I sat on the bed and gasped as the coldness of Big Bertha pressed into me.  I quickly got up then lay on my back on the floor.  I pushed my shoes into the skirt, and then raised my legs so that the skirt slid down my legs towards me.  I grabbed it, stood up, pulled it over my hips to my corseted waist, and zipped it up.

I pulled the skirt down as far as it would go and checked the hemline in my long mirror.  It was well below base of Big Bertha.  The script required me to expose as much of my legs as possible without revealing Big Bertha, so I decided that it should be higher and barely cover Big Bertha.  This skirt had belt loops, one of the reasons I had selected it, so I threaded a chain belt, actually a chain from a dog leash, through the loops of the skirt and secured it with a small padlock.  I pulled the skirt down and again checked the hemline.  It was now about three quarters of an inch below the base of Big Bertha.  I decided it should be higher, so tightened the chain and relocked the padlock.  This raised the skirt.  I pulled it down and checked it again.  This time it seemed about right.  I walked around and checked the result.  The hem was still a hair below Big Bertha.  Raising my leg revealed Big Bertha to the world in all her shining glory.  I turned around and bent forward.  Looking back I could see a large part of Big Bertha exposed.  To keep her concealed I would have to walk sedately with an upright posture, not hard to do in a tight corset.  I placed the key to the belt padlock next to the one already on my dresser.

By this time, Cindy was beginning to hurt a little.  I realized it might have been a mistake to tighten her so much, but there was nothing I could do about it now.  I was trapped until I recovered the key from the mall.  I had intended that the only physical feeling from my bondage would be an erotic one caused by Big Bertha massaging the inside of my thighs, but it now seemed that this sensation would be accompanied by pain from Cindy.

I selected a loose top that concealed Cindy’s bulges, and then applied my makeup.  Following the spirit of my script, which indicated that my attire should be seductive and draw attention, I used a much brighter red lipstick than usual.  I brushed my hair and reexamined myself in the mirror.  The leotards had flattened my breasts, and that, in combination with the loose top, didn’t do much for me.  The main point of attraction was going to be my legs.  The bright red lipstick seemed out of place, so, reasoning that it would draw attention away from my legs, I wiped it off and applied a darker shade.

I was now ready to face the world.  The feel of Big Bertha, no longer cold, between my thighs was interesting, but not as arousing as I had hoped.  But my high heels and mini skirt made me feel sexy and attractive.  Not that I actually wanted to meet anyone, I wanted to think of myself as sexually desirable but unattainable.  Cindy and Big Bertha would certainly help ensure the latter.

Downstairs again, I emptied my pocket book of everything except my car keys, house keys, and tissues.  Without identification or money I wouldn’t be able to buy myself out of this adventure.  I planned to drive particularly carefully to avoid all possibility of a traffic ticket.

Sitting down to drive was uncomfortable.  I pulled Big Bertha forward and opened my legs to relieve the pressure.  My skirt rode up revealing Big Bertha to anyone who cared to look into the car.  Cindy pressed into my crotch and on my butt plug.  Driving was a novel experience holding my knees apart and using my high heels on the pedals.  I drove carefully to the mall with the growing realization that this adventure must not last too long due to the growing discomfort from Cindy.

Because of Big Bertha, I decided to enter the Mall at the lower level.  I could not go up or down stairs or elevators without exposing myself.  The hem of my skirt had to remain below eye level.  I drove around and parked opposite one of the lower level entrances to J. C. Penney’s.  Here I encountered my first real difficulty; there seemed to be no way to get out of the car without exposing Big Bertha.  After waiting for a few minutes and then using the car door as a shield, I inelegantly but successfully stood up without anyone being able to see.  I pulled my skirt down then closed and locked the car door.  I walked self-consciously towards the Mall entrance, but gained confidence when I realized that no one seemed to looking at me.  As I walked I felt Big Bertha rub against my thighs, and instinctively smoothed my skirt down again.

I entered J. C. Penney’s and began the long walk through the Mall towards the center court.  I had deliberately chosen a parking spot that required me to walk the greatest distance.  To my relief, I discovered that I was not the object of attention I had feared.  I began to feel disappointed that this was going to be too easy.  The only person who seemed to take any interest in me was an older woman in a burgundy flowered dress who stared at me with a suspicious scowl.  She even stopped walking, as if to concentrate more power into her scowl.  I avoided eye contact and continued on towards the court.  I didn’t dare turn my head and look behind me.  I wondered if any men were staring at my backside, or if anyone suspected the presence of Big Bertha.

When I reached the center court, I saw immediately that there were too many people around for me to retrieve the key unobserved.  I had deliberately avoided thinking out the details of retrieving the key until now.  Once an accessible method of escape from bondage is discovered, it ceases to be exciting.  The way to maximize the excitement is to enter bondage without knowing exactly how one is going to get free, then enjoy the feeling of helplessness until a solution is found.  This can, of course, be very dangerous.  But in the present situation the danger was not physical, only one of embarrassment.

If I stood and leaned forward to retrieve the key, Big Bertha would be very visible from behind.  Likewise, if I sat on the ledge and leaned back, she would be visible from the front.  Even sitting sideways didn’t seem possible, I would have to lift one leg up and this too would expose Big Bertha.  I thought about holding my pocket book on my thighs to conceal Big Bertha while I leaned back to retrieve the key with the other hand.  But, because of the corset, I would need both hands to get the key, one to support my body while the other reached for the key.  With only one hand I would certainly lose my balance and fall back.  This would both reveal Big Bertha to the world and prompt people to come to my aid.  I concluded that I had no alternative but wait until there were no people on that side of the court.

I suddenly thought about security cameras.  Even if there was nobody in the court, I might be visible to others.  Anxiously I scanned the balconies and ceiling nearby and was slightly reassured to find no sign of any cameras.

Since there were still too many people around, I continued walking.  I went into several shops and returned to the court periodically, but it was always too crowded.

One bench directly faced the place when I would have to sit to recover the key and this was always occupied.  After a while my feet began to hurt and I needed to sit down.  The ledge in front of the key seemed a little high.  I judged that people would be able to look up my mini skirt and see Big Bertha, so I continued walking.   But on my next circuit I was delighted to see that the bench was empty.  Unfortunately there were still too many shoppers walking by to attempt to recover the key.  I decided to sit down on the bench and wait for an opportunity.  Holding my knees together to grasp Big Bertha with my thighs, I carefully sat down.  The pain was instantaneous.  The sudden pressure on Cindy and the butt plug sent pains shooting into me.  This was real pain, not the gentler arousing kind.  Still holding my knees tightly together, I shifted my weight to one cheek.  This helped and the shooting pains subsided, but pain from Cindy continued.  I found myself holding my breath to relieve the pain, and breathed in short gasps that I hoped were inaudible.  I placed my pocket book on my lap to conceal Big Bertha from passersby.

Almost immediately a gray-haired lady carrying a large shopping bag sat down on the other end of the bench.  She glanced at me and smiled.  I could not return the smile; I was trying too hard to control the pain and my breathing.  She looked away.

I sat for a while holding my thighs together.  Although this certainly relieved the discomfort in my feet, the extra pain seemed hardly worth the effort.  But I decided to remain seated to see if the old lady would leave and give me an opportunity to retrieve the key.  Holding my thighs together while sitting on one cheek soon began to prove tiresome, so I wondered if I could cross my legs.  I immediately dismissed the thought since that would expose Big Bertha below my raised thigh.

The old lady did not leave.  Instead a balding middle-aged man came and sat between us.  I wondered why he had chosen this particular bench to sit; there wasn’t that much room.  Perhaps he was attracted by my legs.  Fortunately he didn’t look at me or attempt conversation.

I began to feel ridiculous.  Here I was sitting with acute pain alternating with severe discomfort, waiting for an opportunity that probably would not occur and which I did not need.  All I had to do, I realized, was drive home, get a longer skirt, and return.

So I got up, smoothed my skirt down, and left.  I walked slowly back to the car, slowly because the pain did not completely abate.  Sitting down in the car was torture, and the agony was compounded on the drive home by the thoughts that I had failed to accomplish my objective, that the objective was stupid, and that I was crazy to inflict this torture on myself.

Once inside the house I reached down and pulled on Cindy seeking to relieve the pain.  I could not reach the butt plug properly since my corset prevented me from twisting my body.  I could not safely remove my corset with Cindy in place without damaging it, and this I was reluctant to do.  Finally I was able to get some relief by lying face down on the bed and pulling Cindy down hard.  I lay for a while to recover and plotted my next move.  I would change into a longer skirt, put on more sensible shoes, redo my makeup and return to the mall to retrieve the key.  I would defer consideration of any punishment for my failure to a later time.

I carried out this plan without incident, except that I could not resist putting a soft cushion on the car seat to reduce the pain of sitting.  Once home, I removed my outer clothes and padlocks, then carefully loosened Cindy till I could step out of her.  What a relief!  I removed my corset, leotard and bra, and then stepped into the shower to remove my big butt plug.  This was, as usual, a messy affair, but a long hot shower washed away the mess and soothed some of my discomfort.

I lay naked on my bed with my legs apart to ease the soreness, and pondered the day’s events.  The fear of public discovery had been exciting in prospect, but worrying in actuality.  The bondage promised to be arousing, but produced only pain.  Neither brought me anywhere close to an orgasm let alone heightened arousal.  It all seemed pointless.  I resolved never to do public bondage again since my continual need for change and heightened sensation would eventually make it dangerous or certain of discovery.  This could end my career, and that was perhaps the one thing in my life that seemed sane and valuable.

I masturbated to console myself and then fell asleep.

When I awoke it was getting dark.  I still had a key to retrieve, so I decided to get dressed and drive to Keystone Mall.  But first I needed some food.  I threw on my satin nightgown (I still love its feel on my bare skin) and descended to the kitchen.

While drinking my coffee my thoughts returned to the events of the day.  What a big disappointment it had turned out to be.  As I thought over my original plan, I realized it had been grossly defective.  Not only had it failed to produce sexual satisfaction, but it was deficient even as a pure bondage scenario.  It had allowed me an easy way out.  I should have hidden my spare car keys along with Big Bertha’s keys, and then left my car key inside my car when I got out and locked it.  That would have forced me to stick to my original plan of retrieving Big Bertha’s key.  Without any form of identification or money it would have been impossible to get anyone to open my car, unless I tried to use my powers of seduction, and I didn’t dare try that with Big Bertha hanging between my thighs.

I realized that this need of mine to present myself with ever-tougher challenges would inexorably and inevitably lead to catastrophe.  The most likely outcome would be to ruin my career, but it might even kill me.  I determined to stop this progression before it had gone too far.  I resolved never to make public exposure or embarrassment part of my adventures.  It might be acceptable to be in bondage while in public, but I must not be forced to expose my condition.  I felt relieved at this resolution; I felt that I had found a workable compromise between my sanity and my compulsion, a win-win solution as my coworkers would say.

I decided that there was no real need to go to Keystone Mall to retrieve the second key that day.  I had all of the following day.  With the pressure of immediate action removed, my deranged mind began cranking out plans, and I was powerless to stop it.  It decided that I had to be severely punished for the failure in Avonbridge Mall; I would have to spend the night in strenuous bondage.

* * * * *


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