© Copyright 2001 - Dave - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; cd; rope; gag; nipple; caught; F/m; hum; punish; cons/nc; X
At about age 21 - 22, I began to buy my own lingerie, having
decided that borrowing from family was way too kinky. At about this time
I also decided to get adventurous with scenarios, and having amassed
a collection of something like 25 HOM magazines such as "Bondage Classics" and "Roped and Raped" I felt that the time was right for some proper bondage.
My earlier experiences were tame - simple hands behind back stuff with legs tied, wearing usually borrowed panty hose and knickers, occasionally girdles or corsetry, with every opportunity to escape quickly and easily. I needed to inject realism into the play, and decided on a particular scenario, which involved most of the aspects I had seen in my magazines, namely tight bondage, nipple clamps, object insertion and an extreme location.
I was still living with my parents at the time, but as they both worked, and my kid sister was away at college the house and outbuildings were mine to use as I saw fit. I decided on the tool store, which was in a covered veranda on the side of the house, a cupboard really, about 1 metre square and 2.5 metres high, with an ill fitting door and uneven concrete floor. There was a rail across the width of the store, at about head height, and a few hooks and nails on the frame and the back fence posts, against which the store was constructed.
The store was used primarily for old lengths of timber and a few garden tools, so clearing it for my fun and games was easily done. Next, I had to dress and prepare my equipment, in order to spend the maximum time in bondage and torment. First, I put on new black suspenders, and black stockings. To say it felt strange would be an understatement, as these were my clothes, not a woman's clothes, and it made me excited that I had bought women's underwear for myself.
Then, I took my butt plug, a divan leg about 10 cm long and 5 cm wide at the base, with a two rings set in at the base to hold the cords that would tie it to me, also preventing it entering me and staying there accidentally, lubricated it with oil and began the process of anal penetration, which was not new to me but the size of the plug was. After some struggling it slid in, and I tied the cords off to a thick belt I had on around my waist.
The next step was to set about the bondage. Taking the magazine I was using as a guide, I went out into the veranda and began to tie myself into the position in the magazine. Ankles first, then above and below the knees, followed by a rope around the thighs, which I ran above and below my genitals. A rope around my waist ran up my back, over my shoulders and under my armpits, around my back and across my chest to form a sort of breast bondage. Two sets of loops of rope, about 6 loops in each, were pulled over my head, and down around my waist, each set of loops only just wide enough to allow one arm through.
About this time I hopped over to the store to put into place the last few items, which were ballgag, blindfold, nipple clamps and handcuffs. The handcuff key had been wrapped in about 10 metres of black pole tape, (which for those of you unfamiliar with the material is a tar coated cloth tape, and when wrapped around something is a real pain to remove as it rips into shreds. Trials with this technique suggested that a half dozen turns of tape would take about 10 minutes to get off, so this length would take nearly half the day), and strung up to a nail, in easy reach of my hands but hard to undo.
The next stage was to get into the store, which meant hopping about a bit (which is probably what alerted the neighbours to investigate). Once in position, I ballgagged myself, placed the nipple clamps on and tied their strings to the rail, nice and taut. I squeezed my arms through each set of loops around my waist and shuffled them up to belly height, then applied my blindfold, which was a length of tape wide enough to cover both eyes. The last rope went around my cock and balls, just a few loops cinched up tightly to keep my member erect, not the fancy stuff I would learn later.
A deep breath, then the left cuff went on, the store door was pulled to, my hands went behind my back and click ! the right cuff was on, my first self bondage was on and I was suddenly beginning to realise that I had probably put myself into 4-5 hours of self inflicted bondage with no hope of an early escape and the very real risk of anyone visiting the house finding me if they looked hard enough.
Very quickly my tool went limp and the previous erotic sensations disappeared in exchange for sheer panic. I fumbled for the key, and started to unravel the black tarry mess that I had wrapped it in. Unfortunately, my cuffed hands were restricted and it took an age just to get it to start peeling, by which time my nipples were starting to hurt badly, my butt felt like it was being split open.
As the tape began to unravel, without its customary ripping to pieces, I began to feel a little less panic stricken and started to get off again on the scenario. The photo I was using was out of sight, on the veranda floor, but my mind raced at the thought of the model writhing in her bonds, anxious for release but craving the stimulation of the ropes and clamps to continue. My cock stiffened and I shuffled forward slightly to rub it against the door.
Suddenly, and with no warning, the veranda door opened and I heard our neighbour, Pam, come in, announcing her presence and asking "Who's there?". Now, the store was some fifty feet away from the veranda door so I wasn't immediately visible nor could she hear me breathing. What I could hear though was the click-clack of her heels as she walked down the veranda to the store end. I heard her stop, then I heard the magazine being picked up off the floor. I heard the audible gasp, then pages turning and more surprised mutterings. Then the moment I had dreaded came, as she opened the store door.
Her response was pretty much as I expected, which was an outburst of "What on EARTH do you think you're doings" and other similar shock-horror comments. She then went on to ask if my mother knew about this, what would my sister think, and should she fetch her husband or call the police ?
The fact that I could not reply, nor could she figure out the ballgag, and the fact that my not inconsiderable erection was pointing straight at her must have made her realise that she was well out of her depth so she slammed the door on me and I heard her heels disappear into the distance, the veranda door close, and fearing that she may actually be calling the police. I continued to work on the tape wrapping on the key, and almost had it completely loosened when I heard the veranda door go again, Pam's heels come down the veranda, and the door to my prison opened again.
I waited for something to happen and when it did, I wished I hadn't tied my balls so tightly, as she took my balls in her hands, left hand to one side and right hand to the other, and slapped my balls, hard. I nearly passed out. She slapped me about a half dozen times before slamming the door shut on my cock, leaving me in agony and almost vomiting from the pain in my balls. All the time she was slapping me, she was calling me a pervert or a filthy little bastard or words along those lines. Not that I cared.
About 10 minutes or so passed before I had recovered enough to finish the unwrapping of the key, but I finished in very quick time, all thoughts of bondage abandoned in favour of escape and alibi. It took about 5 minutes to undo the remaining bondage and sort myself out with the butt plug in the bathroom.
I heard the veranda door go again and looked out of the side window to see her again, this time with a bloody Polaroid camera in her hands ! I thought "Shit!"! I couldn't imagine what I would have done if she had got a picture of me. She cursed when she saw the empty store, and briefly looked around for some kind of evidence, but eventually walked out of the veranda with a disgusted look on her face.
I had escaped.
I never spoke to Pam again, nor her to me, and her husband, Paschal, always looked at me as if I was something he had trodden in. My parents never understood why they ignored them socially, and my attempt at an excuse, saying that Paschal had got uptight about me and a couple of mates watching Pam sunbathe topless had only made matters worse. They said that he ought to have punched me in the mouth.
What happened was a terrifying experience and it shook me hard, and out of respect for my family I knew I had to leave home - my need for space had become obvious and it was only fair on the people closest to me that I did. Obviously, my interests were mine alone and freaked other people out completely. My first real self bondage had been a watershed in so many ways. Somewhere all to myself had to be the next step, but it took a few months to achieve, but for a long time any thought of a repeat performance was completely out of the question.
This episode is some way down the line of personal experience, and says little about how I got interested and the early experimentation in cross-dressing and self-bondage I got up to, which isn't that revealing and not really strong enough material in terms of content or ideas, so if anyone has any further interest in my experiences I will contain myself to episodes from here on in.