Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Bondage Ballet

by Restricted

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© Copyright 2006 - Restricted - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; cd; tutu; cuffs; susp; caught; F/m; bond; hum; cons/reluct; X

I am embarrassed. Everyone is looking at me, pointing and laughing. No wonder. I must look a right sight to them!

I am being dragged around the town in my tutu, white tights, and a little tiara on my head along with the ballet shoes. My hands have been strapped tightly behind my back, hands to elbow. I had my hair pulled back into a bun style like a real ballerina does.

The tutu bounces up and down as I walk revealing the knickers part of it. How I got in this mess is beyond comprehension.

Ouch, I feel the harsh tug on the dog’s collar once again. The girl holding the lead is laughing.

Several times I have been tied up outside a pub and left. The gag in my mouth stops me from asking people to release me. Not that they can anyway. Two pair of handcuffs has been used. One half of each locked above my elbows and the other around my wrists. My little breasts stand out against the white nylon of the tutu top.

My legs are held in a leg spreader that has been locked around my ankles, so I have to walk with a waddle making the little skirt flounce higher than ever! I have never seen a ballerina with a tutu that flies up as much as this. People are recognizing me and taking photographs. I am told I will be in the local press next week.

It all started when I fancied a little self bondage. No one was going to be hurt. No one was going to know.  I had taken a large plastic ice cream tub. I drilled some holes in each end and threaded the rope through the holes. I used large washers to hold the rope in and tied several knots in each rope. Using blue tack I had sealed the tub and filled it with water. The ropes were only an inch apart. The idea being that I could not separate the ropes once the tub had been cut off. I froze the tub of water for a week in my small freezer.

To make it quite a predicament that I did not want people to see, I dressed myself in this outfit. I tied the rope to the door handle of my room. I had locked it and my landlady was told I would be out for the afternoon. I did not want to be disturbed.  I put the keys to the handcuffs on my table. I would be able to see them but not touch once I was fastened.

The rope from the handle went to the block of ice. I placed a bucket underneath it to catch the dripping water and continued the rope over the eyebolt I had put in the beam on the ceiling of my room. I opened my wardrobe door so I could admire myself for all it’s worth and strapped my feet together. I placed a small box on the floor and stepped onto it. It was only a couple of inches high, so it would not make that much difference. I tied the handcuffs with the rope and taped the knots up so it could not be undone.

I clicked the handcuffs on my wrists and with both feet, kicked the box away. In the mirror I could see this ballerina at full stretch struggling to get free. I was in heaven. I slowly watched the ice melt, drip, drip, drip. I could not pull the ropes from the ice until it had melted enough.

But my downfall was my not thinking the landlady would come to inspect my room for damage. I heard the key go in the door. I panicked. The door flew open and she saw me.

“So this is what you are up to!”

The rope had now gone slack. I went to go for the handcuff keys, but she saw where I was heading for and grabbed them off of the table.

“You wait here until I get back!”

She left me there for a while and returned with her daughter who had just turned 20. The two of them started to laugh and her daughter said she was going on a hen night pub crawl and she would take me with her dressed as I am.  

They grabbed my wrists, released my handcuffs and quickly strapped my arms behind my back and finishing off with the two pair of handcuffs. They sat me on a chair and left me there for the afternoon strictly tied to it.

At 7, the daughter came into my room. She had a look through my bondage case and found the leg spreaders. She undid the straps around my ankles and fastened the leg spreaders on. I only had 18 inches of space between each leg. I had to walk by twisting my body which gave the tutu more ways of expressing my embarrassment!

She put the dog collar on my neck and did up the buckle. The lead was attached and away I went waddling down the road behind her. She met up with the other girls and I was handed to the bride to be. Everyone thought it was hilarious. Except me.

We had been to every pub in town.  Now they were taking me into the pubs. My knickers were turning black from the grease on people’s hands who kept rubbing my bum and my crown jewels. Even some of the men were a having a go. I hated that.

“Oh God, here are my work colleagues. Please God, don’t let them see me!” I tried to cringe, but the bride to be pulled me upright. I was tied to a pillar. On the pillar was hanging basket. I was tied to that. All evening I have had to stand there like an idiot.

Now they are off on their patrol again. It is hard work keeping up with them. The crowds are coming out of the clubs. I am being recognised. I wish I could die. The tutu still keeps flouncing up and down. The tights are getting warm. My arms and wrists ache. So does my body from all this twisting.

But the girls show no sign of mercy or giving up their walkabout. I will have to silently walk along behind them. Why do you never see a copper when you want one?  

The group eventually split up and I am towed off shuffling into the night behind the bride to be. “Help me some one, please. I promise not to do bondage again!”



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