Introduction: About me
Sharing some background about me, my desires, needs and motivation.
First, English is not my first language, so this text may lack some variation and nuancing natural to a native speaker, and probably also contains some directly translated expressions that may sound funny. I have tried to check that spelling and grammar is OK, so it should be intelligible, but those looking for the next great English novel should probably look elsewhere.
I am a woman who enjoys being tied up. Simple as that. There is no use in categorizing me as a slave, submissive, slut, masochist or anything because of it, because I am none of that, at least not in my daily life. I simply enjoy the thrill of helplessness, the physical sensation of strenuous positions, and the feeling of restraints pressing into my skin and flesh, rubbing and chafing as I test and fight them.
I find a charm in almost any kind of restraints, the sensuous embrace of ropes, especially the Japanese style shibari, kinbaku, hojojutsu and semenawa, the comfortable but secure grip of leather, the unyielding, cold and hard grip of metal, the stickiness of adhesive tape, the warm and sweaty wrapping of plastic wrap, the one-way quality of zip-ties which can only be tightened but never loosened, and the severity of thin cord and wire cutting into my flesh and forcing me still. I enjoy gags too, real gags, impossible to eject, muffling and making any attempt to speak unintelligible, blindfolds, and especially hoods, cutting off my senses and leaving me to just feel and guess what is happening and coming next.
I want it all tight and secure, impossible to escape from, making me really helpless and dependent on someone taking care of me, playing with me, using me, and eventually releasing me. Sometimes, I can long for some peril along with it too, the risk of perceived or actual harm or exposure. It turns me on to be left like that, maybe for hours even, alone with my sensations, my thrills and my fears, and to have my helplessness proven by the additions of various discomforts, pains and humiliations which I can only accept and endure, never escape from or negotiate my way out of.
To me, being tied up is much erotic and sexual, and it can arouse me immensely. So, I want to be tied up naked or really slutty and exposed, played with sexually while tied up, teased and denied or forced to orgasm, used as a sex toy, fucked or forced to suck. I also like my "sex" parts roughly handled, groped, kneaded, spanked, whipped, electrocuted and other hard play, with my pussy split by tight ropes, fisted or stretched hard by oversized dildos and plugs, my anal penetrated, plugged or filled up with enemas, my breasts tied up really tight into swollen, aching balloons, and my nipples, labia and clit tied up, clamped and stretched.
This may sound contradictory to me not being a masochist, but much of what may sound cruel is actually more stimulating than painful to me, making me aroused, and the more aroused I get, the harder I usually desire and can handle various discomforts. In my fantasies, things are often even harder, involving both humiliations like public exposure or forced lesbianism, and things that can cause real injury, like needles, nailing, burning and real abuse and beatings, but I don't think I could really appreciate or handle that in reality. Some dreams I have are even more brutal, involving maiming and snuff, and leaving me in a strange mix of panic, agony and arousal when I wake up from them.
At present I'm without a partner, and there isn't really room in my life for one either, for various reasons. Still, having the needs and desires mentioned made me start experimenting with tying myself up. It isn't always easy to get things the way I desire them on my own, and even if I found out many ways of making myself pretty helpless, it still lacks the thrill of really being out of control and not knowing what will come next. Waiting a couple of hours for a piece of ice to melt and give access to your release just doesn't match sweating it out with an ingenious and wicked man in control of both time and "discomforts". Still, sometimes you simply need to settle for what you can get.
However, I discovered one new dimension of humiliation from tying myself up. When someone else is doing it and various other nasty things to me, I can somehow excuse myself with that it's not my fault, but that I'm being forced by that depraved, perverted man doing it to me, regardless of how much I "secretly" enjoy it and am aroused by it. But when I do it myself, there are no excuses anymore, but I'm forced to admit that I'm that depraved, perverted slut who does those nasty things because I really need and desire them.
The reason I decided to share this, my experiences and perhaps some fantasies and dreams as well in the future, is a bit hard to explain. I think the closest I can come is to say that it's both a bit of a thrill to relive things by telling them, and also a bit of a safe but exciting humiliation to let others know, even if they will never know who I am in reality. It probably doesn't make much sense, but it works in my mind, and that's what's important to me.
Part 1: Setup from the top
Starting with binding my breasts at the office.
The clock was ticking towards 6 PM Friday night and it was just me and one of the administrators left at the office. I was sitting staring at the computer screen, not very focused though, when Anne appeared in the doorway, coat on and bag on her shoulder. She said "I'm ready to go now. Will you stay much longer?" I looked up and smiled at her "I need to finish a few things I need Monday morning, so maybe half an hour or hour more." She answered "Awww, that's a shame, but I hope you won't be too late. Have a great weekend and see you Monday." I nodded "It's OK, but thank you. You too. Take care and see you." I went back to staring at the screen, trying to look focused while I heard the door close behind Anne. I waited some more until I saw her crossing the parking lot to her car through the window, get into it and drive off." I waited a few more minutes before I shut down my computer, grabbed my coat and bag, turned off the light and headed for the bathroom.
The office bathroom is a big, handicap-adapted one, with a large mirror covering almost an entire wall above the sink. It is also well lit, almost like a stage or photo studio. I was buzzing with excitement by now, as I locked the door, hung my coat on a wall hook and put down my bag by the sink. I put my keycard to the office into one of the coat pockets, then quickly stripped out of my top and bra, my soft, generous breasts spilling down and I both saw and felt how big and stiff my nipples were. I dug into my bag and found the two pieces of thin cord I had left prepared there, each with a simple noose in one end. I fit the noose of the first cord around the base of my left nipple and pulled it tight, then wound the remaining length of cord tightly around the nipple, shaping it into a mushroom-like knob, with a restricted stalk and a swelling top. By the time I knotted it securely, I was breathing a bit faster from the sensation of somewhat painful pleasure in the by-now even harder nipple. When I brushed my fingertip across the swollen top it felt almost like an electric jolt through the restrained nub and areola. I took a deep breath and steadied myself before taking the other piece of cord and repeating the procedure with my right nipple. When done, I couldn't resist feeling the twin nubs, pinching them and feeling how almost rock hard they were, pulling on them and lifting my heavy breasts by them, moaning low from the sensation, and gasping out loud as I almost orgasmed from scratching my fingernails lightly across them.
I again forced myself to snap out of the sensations and dug out two lengths of 1/4" soft hemp rope from my bag, found the middle of the first one by folding it double, and then sliding the bow under the base of my left breast. I wrapped strand after strand of the rope tight and just inside each preceding strand, forcing the breast out and up as its free end bulged more and more when the constricting band around its base widened. When I had wound up most of the first half of the rope, I used the second half to continue wrapping outwards, widening the tight band even more and making the swollen breast start to darken towards purple, throb achingly and its taut skin start to glisten. As the orb swelled and skin became taut, the tie around its crowning nipple also shifted from firm and tight to a burning demon cutting into the taut skin, both painful and arousing. When I finally had used up most of the rope, I pulled the ends tight and tied them off, leaving about 2' free ends. My breast then reminded some of a tower of an orthodox church, with the tightly wrapped ropes forming an almost 4" wide restricting band around its base as the walls, the swollen, taut, purplish orb of flesh as its onion-shaped dome, and the tightly tied nipple as a topping ornament.
I stood watching my breast in the mirror, seeing my hand slide up by itself to cup it, panting from the caress and gasping as the grip hardened and squeezed it tight. Fuck! They were so sensitive and my mind started wandering, wishing it was someone else's hand squeezing and playing with my sensitized breast. But it was just me, and I had more to do, so I reluctantly let go and reached for the other length of rope, again wrapping it tight and carefully, now around my other breast, until it had turned into an almost identical orthodox church tower as the first breast. I watched in the mirror breathing heavily as I grabbed the free rope ends, pulling them up and behind my neck, tugging on them to make my breasts raise until they were sticking straight out from my chest, the tightly tied nipples jutting out 7 or 8 inches off my chest, before tying the ropes off behind my neck, creating an incredible bra, lifting and enlarging my big and heavy breasts. I could feel the swollen, purplish and over-sensitized orbs throb with each quick beat of my heart, and the intense, burning sensation from the nipples pulsed at the same pace.
In my mind, I was somewhere else, hands and elbows roped tight behind my back, a tight noose around my neck pulled up and forcing me to balance on my tiptoes, a warm, hard body against my back, strong arms holding me, a stiff cock pressing through the fabric between my ass cheeks, and then suddenly a shot of intense pain and pleasure as strong hands smacked my swollen orbs, mashing my burning nipples into the palms as strong fingers dug hard into the swollen flesh, making me scream muffled into the gag filling my mouth. The hands let go of my breasts for a second, just to deliver another smack and grab, at least as intense as the first one, again forcing a muffled scream past my gag. The third blow made me orgasm violently, and my whole body convulsed as a fourth and fifth blow built my orgasm higher and higher, my scream fading as I ran out of air, hanging on the strong arms, panting and whimpering.
When I opened my eyes, I was still shivering, in the mirror I saw my hands still on my breasts with fingers dug hard into the swollen flesh as I wobbled a bit. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I needed that, and I needed more, but it wasn't in my plan, so I reluctantly let go of my breasts, watching in the mirror the crimson hand marks across their purplish and almost glistening surface, feeling the heat radiating through them and my chest. My nipples were burning and when I let my fingers touch them ever so lightly to check them, it almost tipped me over the edge again. I suddenly realized I wasn't sure if I had screamed for real, so I stood frozen for some time, listening to any sounds of "rescue" on the way, but there were no steps, no doors slamming and no elevators moving, so regardless if I had screamed for real or not, I concluded it hadn't drawn any attention at least.
Part 2: Filling the gaps
Stuffing my mouth and pussy, plus a few extras.
I lowered my hands and undid my skirt, letting it drop to the floor, stepped out of it, picked it up and put it next to my bag. Out of the bag, I pulled another length of rope, again doubled it, formed a loop and wrapped it snugly around my waist, knotting it securely in the back, pulled it down, front between my legs, and then almost viciously up, burying it deep into my slit and forcing my panties with it so deep they left my labia bare on each side of my invaded cleft. I was really wet and so aroused just a few yanks on the rope would no doubt have made me orgasm again, but I controlled myself and tied the rope off to the front of my waist ropes, snug, arousing and frustrating, making my pussy even wetter but no more. I then used one of the hair ties I wore around my wrist to fashion my hair into a high ponytail.
Again, I dived into my bag, pulling out a pair of scissors, a roll of 2" wide silver duct tape, a 2" diameter dog rubber ball, and a surgical mask, putting them on a small built-in tray next to the sink. Then I unknotted the crotch rope front and pulled it out of my cleft, before pulling my panties down, baring my wet pussy, stepping out of them and then wrapping them around the ball, inside out. The crotch part was sopping wet with my juices, and as I pushed the ball into my mouth, forcing my jaws uncomfortably wide open, I made sure the panty crotch rested on my tongue, forcing me to taste my own excitement and shame. I took the roll of tape and wrapped layer after layer of tape tight across the ball, forcing it even deeper, over my lips and back around my neck, until my entire lower face was sealed with a gleaming band of tape from just below my nose to the tip of my chin. I used the scissors to snip the tape off and patted the end smoothly at the nape of my neck, before taking the surgical mask and fit it so it covered my face from just below my eyes to under my chin. One of the very few blessings of COVID-19, that no one wondered why you wore a gag hider. After letting my hair down, I checked in the mirror, and it was almost impossible to discern the gag under the mask, even if I thought it looked a bit strange with my wide open jaw forcing the bottom of the mask down.
Again, I checked myself in the mirror. I was stark naked, except for the surgical mask covering my gag, the tight rope bra, still very arousing despite a growing ache and a burning pain in my tightly tied nipples, the waist rope with its crotch ropes now dangling behind me as some kind of tail, and my shoes. I felt a strong urge to play with, torment and please myself again, but the unplanned orgasm before would have to do, plus in a situation like that, the sexual denial made me even hotter.
The encounter with the temporary crotch rope reminded me I needed to have a leak before leaving the office. Considering what I had in mind, this was probably my last chance for a few hours, so I opened and carefully wiped the seat of the WC before sitting down and letting go. I tried to squeeze as much as possible out, just to be safe, then wiped myself good, feeling a small tingle from the touch and rubbing in that sensitive area, closed and flushed the WC. I had tried not to drink much during the afternoon because of my plans for the evening, so I should be good then.
Next out of my bag was a pair of elegant high heel sandals, with 5" heels and lockable straps. They were a rather new addition to my special wardrobe, but after the idea for this ordeal had started forming, I had tried to break them in at home, staying locked in them for a few hours the last several evenings. Even if they looked hot and their locking quality was a bit of a thrill, they definitely weren't made for comfort. I replaced my work shoes with them, pulled the ankle straps tight and then fit two small padlocks to secure them in place. There was no getting out of them without keys, and the keys were safely at home. The ultimate restraint came out of my bag next, in the shape of a pair of sturdy, gleaming police cuffs. Using the dangling crotch ropes, I secured the short chain between the cuffs to the rear of the waist ropes. The cuff keys were at home, together with the sandal keys.
The final items were another dog toy, a rubber dental dumbbell 6.3" long with 2.3" heavily studded and bumped end pieces, and two clover clamps with each a 0.5 lb dangling weight. After placing them on the sink, I cleaned up some and put my work shoes, skirt, top, bra, scissors and duct tape into my bag before closing it. I also arranged my coat using safety pins to pin the bottom of the sleeves to the two large side pockets, giving the impression of a pose with hands stuck into those pockets.
I grabbed the dumbbell and pushed one end against the opening of my vagina. Despite its size, nubs and bumps, my wetness made it slick enough to slide into me without much effort, the nubs and bumps stretching and massaging my interior walls in a both uncomfortable and arousing way. The discomfort increased as the nubs started to stretch the bottom of my vagina and push my cervix, and as the other end started to stretch the opening of my vagina, the balance between pain and pleasure became almost maddening. I was panting hard when I finally had the entire thing buried in my pussy and could grab the crotch-ropes dangling behind me, pulling them deep into my cleft, pushing the toy deeper still and securing it in place as I yanked the ropes as tight as I could before tying them off around the front of the waist ropes.
Taking one step forward in my locked-on high heels to get the weighted clamps made me moan as the big toy stretching my vagina shifted, rubbing my cervix almost painfully but massaging my stretched vagina walls in a rough and arousing way. The tight ropes pressing on and slightly rubbing my swollen clit as I stepped didn't help much either. I parted my trembling knees as I bent down and pulled on one of my labia to fit the clamp onto it, and as I let go and the clamp jaw bit down while the weight stretched the fold hard, I gasped loud behind my gag as my mind raced "Oh fuck, oh fuck, it hurts, it hurts, and I want it, want it!" The clamp on the other labia made me react the same, and I stood trembling and panting a while before straightening again. The two steps to reach for my coat, again making the dumbbell shift, the crotch ropes rub and the weighted clamps on my labia swing were intense, and one small voice of reason tried to tell me this might be more than I could handle, but I disregarded it as I draped the coat over my shoulders and started to arrange it.
Part 3: Final touches
Finishing preparations before stepping outside.
Wrapping the coat tight around myself from within it was easy, but making it fit over my two enormous, tightly tied and bulging breasts was another story, not in any way made easier by the fabric rubbing across my tied and over-sensitized nipples in a very intense way. Finally I had the coat somewhat in place and could secure it with the coat sash using my hands from within. I couldn't use the buttons or buckle but had to tie the sash in a simple knot from the inside. I could still slip my hands out through the slit front but had to be careful not to disarrange the coat and expose myself. I got the keycard from the pocket where I put it and then slipped my left wrist into the handcuff fastened to the rear of my make-shift rope chastity belt under the coat, closing it with my right hand after making sure the keyhole was towards the hand so I could access it once I had the key.
When I reached for the bag, I realized I had made a mistake in planning. Carrying the bag on my shoulder without being able to support it with a hand would at best mean me dropping it on the ground, at worst it would strip the coat from me, leaving me stark naked. I cursed and tried to think. Did I really need the bag? Yes! Or no... I needed some things I had in it, but not the bag itself. What did I really, really need? My keys home, yes. My phone, yes. My pad? Hmmm... No, not really. Anything more? No...? Really, really...? No! I finally decided I knew what I needed and managed to find it and move it from the bag to the pocket of my coat almost surprisingly easy. The bag itself was another problem, but I figured it should be safe stashed in my bookshelf hidden behind a couple of binders over the weekend. The short walk from the bathroom to my desk gave me a notion that this would be one long and intense evening as the big toy inside me shifted, the crotch ropes rubbed and started to chafe a little, and the clamps tugged on my labia with every step, mixing pain and pleasure. By the time I was done, I was sweating and panting, aroused, frustrated, insecure and determined, all at once.
As I stood there in the dark, seeing the empty office and the lights through the window from the now quite dark outside, my mind wandered again. Suddenly strong hands grabbed me from behind, tore the coat from me, exposing my plight and humiliation, forced me down into a chair and locked me to it with the handcuffs behind my back. No words, just a dark shadow, greedy hands exploring my body, taking advantage of my helplessness, groping my aching breasts and my sopping pussy, kneading and slapping. And then I knew he was realizing, he knew about me, my needs and desires. A wide grin across the face of the shadow reflected his teeth in the lights from outside, and I felt one hand closing around my throat while his other arm rose, something in his hand with a glint of transparent green. The heavy plastic ruler made a terrific crack as it landed hard across my swollen, taut and sensitive breast, sending an explosion of pain and heat through it and my chest, my squeal through my nose cut short from lack of air, but my body responded, arched my back and lifted my breasts up towards him, waiting for the next blow, begging for it. And it came, landing square across the burning nipple of my other breast, even more explosive, resulting in another choked squeal, making my head spin, again making my back arch and presenting my breasts to him.
It went on and on, I don't know how long or how many lashes, but my breasts and soul were on fire, still accepting and enduring each lash, both because there was no option but also because they needed it and desired it. And suddenly it was over. I couldn't really grip that he just put down the ruler and calmly walked away, still without a word, leaving me on fire, needing so much more. After a while I realized it really was over, he was gone and I was left stuck, helpless, used and abandoned. Slowly my mind started working again. The night watch would make his first round at midnight. How many hours away was that? I didn't know and I felt myself slowly slipping into darkness and back to reality, finding myself still standing in the dark office at my desk. The plastic ruler was lying neatly on my desk, and I fought an urge to pick it up and use it on myself. Some things just didn't feel right to do myself, regardless how right they felt if someone else did them to me.
I walked slowly out from the office, wobbling slightly from the extreme heels and the sensations from my pussy, feeling relieved when I saw the other offices sharing the entrance were dark and obviously empty. I slipped my right hand out of my coat and managed to lock the entrance and activate the alarm without much trouble. I was a bit shocked when I saw the clock on the wall. Almost 8:30 PM, meaning I had spent more than two hours preparing. And then I realized it also meant that the elevators had shut down half an hour ago, so I had to walk down the stairs three floors to get out. Shit! Walking down the stairs in 5" heels, with toys in and on your pussy doing their best to drive you crazy with every step, was intense and again made me doubt if this was a very sane idea to try and pull off. But I stood outside in the still warm night, catching my breath, slipping the keycard into my coat pocket with the keys and phone before zipping it shut, checked the coat was in order, and then decided on taking the step of no return.
Part 4: Street walking
Building things up, wearing myself down, and some surprise orgasms.
I slipped my right hand under the coat to the small of my back, found the free police cuff there and slipped it onto my wrist, then breathlessly listened to the clicks as I shut it tight with my left hand, joining its sibling in captivity and making me utterly helpless. The realization sent an intense thrill and surge of arousal through my entire body, making my pussy buzz almost as if electrified and coming very close to making me orgasm just standing there. I realized I probably was a somewhat interesting sight, even from what others could see, in a short coat reaching just a third down my thighs and with its upper part very stretched by a seemingly huge bust, extremely high-heeled sandals, and a surgical mask. Had they been able to see what was underneath, totally nude with hands cuffed back, the large ball-and-panties-gag taped in, the tightly tied breasts, nipples and pussy, pussy also stuffed with a huge dog toy and labia clamped and stretched hard, their eyes would probably pop.
I slowly started across the parking lot and towards home, 3 miles away, moaning and gasping low every now and then behind the gag as the pressure on my cervix or stretching of my labia became too painful, or the shifting of the big dog toy in my pussy or rubbing of ropes on my clit and of the coat fabric across my burning nipples or taut breast skin became too intense. My jaws were already aching from the big dog ball jammed into my mouth, and despite the elaborate taping and sealing I could feel a humiliating trickle of saliva seeping down my neck, chest and belly from my wide-open mouth. I didn't even make it across the parking lot before the first orgasm hit me. It wasn't one of those high-pitched ones but more of a rumble growing in intensity for every wave and left me standing shivering and whimpering while trying to regain both breath and some composure.
As I continued, I realized the slight loss of arousal after the orgasm made me feel the discomforts from my battered cervix, burning nipples, stretched labia, chafed clit and aching jaws more, and the walk became more tormenting. Still, it also made it easier for me to focus, and I could pick up some pace. I only met a few people along the way, since I had picked a route off the main streets, passing mainly through industrial and office areas mostly empty at that time of night. Still, every time I felt like people were staring at me and making me feel quite embarrassed and humiliated. Normally, the 3 mile walk home would take me about an hour, but locked in the uncomfortable shoes, I had guessed it would increase to one and a half to two hours. Actually, the first mile I managed to keep a pace I believed fit with my estimate, but as I walked, my feet started to hurt more and more, not just from the high heels but also from the straps chafing real bad, which forced me to slow down. By then, the combined pains had definitely overtaken the arousal and stimulation, but I had no real option but to struggle on.
Another thing was I started to feel my bladder again, despite the leak before I left the office. It wasn't urgent yet, but it kept growing, and I began to doubt if I would make it home before it became really urgent with the slowing pace my pains forced on me. Having a leak in the middle of the street might work for some drunk sluts, and I had even seen a few do it rather publicly, but I didn't quite want to join that club.
When I was about halfway, I was pretty surprised to feel the heat starting to build in my lower belly again. Still, I was grateful, since the arousal dulled the pains some, and I decided to keep from orgasming to keep that effect. It meant I had to slow down and even stop again and again, because despite the pain increasing with every move, the stimulation now started to outweigh it. I managed for about half a mile, but then, even though I was standing quite still, I realized the heat ball in my lower belly continued to build despite that, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt how I climbed to the edge, but the heat ball didn't burst but just kept growing. As the pleasure changed into unbearable intensity, I tensed hard, my eyes widening, and I tried to help it over the edge by bucking my hips, grinding on the crotch rope and shifting the toy inside my pussy, but to no avail. I couldn't breathe any longer, my lungs burning for oxygen, and I felt myself losing balance and falling over. As my swollen, aching breasts were smashed into the pavement, exploding in pain when they took the brunt of my fall, I finally toppled over the edge, the waves of orgasms being a relief far less intense than the unbearable sensation just before. I lay there, panting and crying, my body softly spasming again and again while the white-hot heat and waves of orgasm faded.
I never lost consciousness but I still lay there in a kind of limbo while my brain slowly started to catch up with reality. My first somewhat clear thought was I needed to get up before someone saw me and tried to come and help. Even if the route I had picked wasn't much trafficked, it was still far from abandoned. I managed to first sit up and then struggle to my knees before actually standing up in a precarious balancing act on the high heels. It felt like my entire body was hurting, but in a much more dull way than before the intense orgasm. As I stood there, I took a few deep shuddering breaths, starting to feel cold and that was when I realized I was no longer in my coat. I looked down and the coat was on the ground where I had fallen, while I was standing stark naked, save for my heels, a very kinky rope "bra" with matching "panties", and the surgical mask covering the ball and panties stuffed in my mouth.
The panic I felt from realizing my exposed situation cleared up the fog in my mind, and my first decision was I needed to get off the street, now. On the other side of the screen of industrial buildings I was walking past was a green area that I often walked on my way to and from work, with paths popular with joggers and people walking their dogs, but who in their right mind would be jogging or walking their dog at this time of night? I had discarded that option tonight, both because it would be real hard to walk in the high heels, because in my original planning I had thought I'd be off a lot earlier while people were still doing their rounds after work, and because I figured it would be easier to keep a distance along the city streets than on the narrow paths in case I met someone. But as things were now, that green area felt like a much better option than the lit and open street. My urge to pee was also increasing rapidly, but I felt it would be somewhat easier for me to do that somewhere in the woods than in the street, so in that respect, my forced change of path might even be a good thing. The problem was getting there, since the industrial area I needed to cross was pretty well fenced off for long stretches. Actually, the closest crossing I knew was almost a quarter of a mile back, and the next crossing was half a mile ahead or so. I groaned thinking about adding half a mile to my ordeal by going back, but the crossing ahead was just next to my residential area, where there probably would be a lot bigger risk of someone seeing me. So, back it was.
I needed my coat though, but as I squatted down trying to reach for it, I realized the cuffs locking my hands at the small of my back made it impossible to get it that way. In the end, I had to kneel down again, tip over on my side and grab the coat, before struggling back to my feet, an ordeal both painful and cumbersome. Once I was up again and had caught my breath, I looked around before starting back, and froze with a gasp. Still several blocks away I saw a group of people coming along the street towards me, 5 or 6 of them. Fortunately, they were coming from the opposite direction I was heading, and I calmed some when I realized that even if they probably could see me, they probably couldn't make out the details of my appearance any more than I could make out theirs. Still, it meant I needed to hurry so they didn't catch up with me. Trying to hurry in a pair of extreme heels which had already blistered your feet pretty badly, without much help of your arms to keep your balance, something trying to ram its way through your cervix into your uterus with each step, and something else doing its best to tear your labia off was no easy task though, but the incentive to overcome it was great enough to accomplish the task.
Part 5: Walking the woods
Taking a forced detour in the wild with some thrills.
I reached the crossing to the green area, I think without my "followers" even having shortened the distance any, and without seeing anyone else around, but as I stumbled along the poorly paved road towards the green I was sobbing from pain. When I reached the end of the road I almost sprained an ankle in the rough terrain before I lowered myself into the high grass, kneeling and tipping over on my side, hiding myself and giving my hurting feet and pussy some relief. Minutes later, I heard the crowd pass the crossroad and then their voices and laughs fading as they continued on, but I remained as was, just breathing and trying to ignore a number of bugs taking the opportunity to feast on my flesh, as the pain and my sobs slowly faded.
After some time, I'm not sure how long, I decided I needed to continue. I remembered to grab my coat before struggling to my feet this time, and then started to move slowly, both trying to avoid any slips in the rough terrain and to spare my feet and pussy more torture than necessary. By now, my urge to pee was desperate though, so I decided to take care of that first. I spread my legs and squatted before I let go, hoping not to wet my legs. In the next few seconds I learned a couple of things. First, peeing with a crotch chafed raw by a crotch rope hurts, a lot, and I whimpered from the intense burning as the pee wetted the chafed and raw skin in my most sensitive spots. Second, peeing with a crotch rope is not pretty, because whatever pee wasn't soaked up by the rope, adding to the painful burning in my chafed parts, didn't drip or sprinkle but ran straight down the inside of my thighs and calves and into my shoes. I felt both extremely humiliated and slightly nauseated when I tried to somehow save my shoes but only managed a squishy sound and feel from the pee between the soles of my feet and the insoles of my shoes.
Defeated, I tried to think away the wet feeling on the inside of my legs and the continued squishing when I started towards one of the paths after the burning pain had subsided some. Actually, the walk itself wasn't as bad as I had expected once I reached the path. It wasn't as even as a pavement, but the many feet threading it still had made it rather even, save for quite a few roots and stones. Lighting from several lighting masts still on in the industrial area next to the green also made it possible to discern most of the path rather easily despite the dark. My feet hurt really, really bad, but my slow and careful pace spared me much of the pussy torture, even though I was constantly reminded of my battered cervix, my chafed clit and my painfully stretched labia.
Once, I heard someone approaching, almost making me panic as I quickly tried to get off the path and to hide in the grass and bushes next to it, moaning low from the increased torture the fast moves caused to my pussy with its attires. I was squatting down as I heard a pair of joggers, a male and a female, passing by me in the opposite direction I was heading, exchanging a few phrases with each other, before they disappeared and the sound of them faded off. As I got back on the path I wondered if they were from the residential area ahead and would return the same way soon. Somehow it was a bit of a thrill to be so exposed and forced to hide with someone so close by, not knowing about you but with a small risk of discovery. The fact they might come back soon added some to it, and I felt my arousal grow a little from that thought.
Finally I reached the end of the industrial area, only about a quarter mile from home, but things got worse since the lighting in the residential area was more feeble and obscured by trees and bushes, so the path was almost entirely dark. I needed to thread very slowly and carefully, not to risk spraining an ankle or something on the home strait. I also needed to think about the very final strait, since my street ended at the green, but my home was a block and a half, 5-6 houses on each side of the street, from it. The streets were lit, and most probably many were at home, not necessarily occupied with staring at the TV, their computers or whatever. Strangely enough, this peril aroused me more than it worried me, even if being discovered by my neighbors as I was would be truly disastrous. My body responded as well, and by the time I was standing in the shadows of the green at the end of my street, the burning from the taut skin at the base of my otherwise numb nipples, the shifting of the big toy in my vagina, the rubbing of the rough ropes on my chafed clit and even the painful tugging and yanking of the weighted clamps on my labia, had started that ball of heat in my lower belly again.
I could see my house from where I stood hidden in the shadows, but I could also see the lit street and the houses of my neighbors, some lit up. In one of the closest ones I could see people moving, but there was no one in sight outdoors. I tried to find a way to get to my house with minimum risk of being seen but realized there really was none. That realization both thrilled and dismayed me. I was standing there shivering from the oncoming cold and hesitating as one of the lights went out in one of the nearest houses. It was a bit strange, because usually people left the lights on even if they weren't home, hoping it would make burglars believe there were people in the house. But then it struck me: What was the time? My phone was in the pocket of my coat, and it could tell. When I tried to open the pocket with my hands cuffed back, the coat slid out of my hand and landed on the ground. I cursed silently as I did the by now rather well known maneuver of squatting down, getting on my knees and tip over on my side to reach the coat.
Suddenly my heart stopped, as I heard heavy steps and voices just next to me. I froze as I watched in horror two joggers, most probably the same couple I encountered before, above me, just 3 to 4 feet away. I could see their faces now in the light from the street and recognized them as a couple living on the next street, nice ones I had chatted some with occasionally. To my disbelief, they just continued, almost stepping on me, and disappeared again in the shadows ahead. My heart and mind was racing when I suddenly felt several small waves of heat ballooned out from the ball of heat in my lower belly. It was in no way as intense as what I had experienced earlier in the evening, but it was nonetheless an orgasm, quick, totally surprising and leaving me moaning low and panting. As I calmed down some again, I could only guess that the prolonged arousal before somehow made the thrill of being so close to discovered enough to set it off.
Part 6: Home run
Reaching my destination with a few more complications.
My fingers were trembling a bit when I got the phone out of the coat pocket and could check the time. Holy shit! It was almost 1 AM. It was more than 6 hours since I started that little adventure and I had been on my way for more than 4 hours. Being a Friday night, I would guess most of the lit houses were empty, their inhabitants being out, and the rest on their way to bed, where the lights gone out revealed those already in bed. I put the phone back in the pocket and zipped it shut again, then struggled to my feet and started to study the houses. In most of those still lit, I could see no movement at all, guessing they were either empty or their occupants busy. The one that worried me was the closest one, where there definitely were people at home and awake. Perhaps the risk of them looking out the window just when I was passing by wasn't all that big, but it was a risk I didn't want to take unless absolutely necessary. So I waited, slightly tingling from the thrill of the situation and feeling both arousal and frustration grow.
Eventually some of the lights went out, and I guessed that meant the occupants of the house were heading for bed. I waited a few more minutes and then I stepped out of the shadows and headed for home as fast as I could. My feet were again hurting real bad, and the battering of my cervix, chafing of my clit and yanking on my tortured labia from my quick steps were borderline on what I could handle, but I reached the porch to my house within minutes, then cursed myself as I fumbled with my coat trying to get to the keys in its pocket, wondering why I hadn't grabbed them when I put the phone back already. And then panic struck again, when I realized the keys weren't there. My phone and office keycard, yes, but my house keys, no. In desperation, I opened and searched the other pockets, even if I already knew the keys weren't there.
I tried to calm a bit and think where I could have lost the keys. I remembered for sure I had put them in the pocket in the bathroom at the office, after I realized I couldn't bring my bag home. I had been in the pocket, putting the office keycard there, when I left the office, and the keys could have come out then, even if I thought that was unlikely. Then the pocket had been zipped shut until I dug out my phone at the end of my street. To me, that was the most likely place to have dropped the keys.
I scanned the houses around, but could see no movement, and the street was also empty, so I took a deep breath and started back towards the green as fast as I could, trying to ignore my hurting feet, the battering my poor cervix was taking, the rough ropes trying to remove what skin remained on my chafed clit, and the tearing on my labia, feeling like if they would rip off any second. What I couldn't ignore was the heat ball in my lower belly, growing as I stumbled back the street while I tried to fight it back, managing it almost, until I reached where I had been standing hiding and slowed down. Then the explosion came, in wave after wave of white heat radiating through my pussy, belly and entire body. The first wave made me lose all control and I fell, flat on my face, or rather flat on my over-sized, over-tied, over-swollen, over-aching and over-sensitive breasts, the pain as they were smashed and mashed into the ground just intensifying the next waves. I think I shrieked into my gag, not being able to care if someone would hear me, but this time it was a "normal" if yet intense orgasm, that soon faded.
I rolled off my agonized breasts and started to look for the keys. I could see absolutely nothing because of the darkness and shadows, and realized how my jogging neighbors could have missed seeing me, despite almost stepping on me. My hands were pretty useless to try and feel around, locked up at the small of my back, and I pondered my other options. I finally started scanning the ground by sweeping with a leg, lying on my side and crawling around. Luck was with me, and after just a couple of minutes I felt something hard under my leg and heard a weak metallic clinking. It was the keys! I was so happy and relieved when I had grabbed them that I almost didn't notice any pain as I struggled to my feet again, quickly scanned the street and houses to see everything still calm and empty, and stumbled back to my house. I reached it without any more problems, fumbled around some before I managed to fit the key in the keyhole and get the door unlocked and opened, then kicked my coat, left on the porch floor, inside, before getting inside myself and with a little bit of fumbling with my cuffed back hands get the door closed and locked behind me.
Part 7: Cleaning up
Finishing up after the end of my ordeal.
Once inside, I headed for the cuff and shoe keys I had left rigged in the bathroom in the morning. Being so late, the prolonged ice timer had dropped them a long time ago, while if I had managed my original scheme I might have had to wait for them an hour or so. Ice timers are no exact science, and when you think you've set them for 2 hours, it might as well be one and a half as two and a half hours. In the condition I was, I didn't miss that thrill of having to wait though. I slid down on the floor and got the keys without much problems, but it still took me several minutes before I managed to fit the key into the first cuff and release my left wrist. The right one was faster and soon I could admire the indents left by the cuffs on both my wrists. They were a bit sore, but from experience I was pretty sure they would be OK in a day or two. My feet were another issue. Once I had unlocked the straps and got the high heel sandals off, I saw my poor feet raw from broken blisters, both under the straps and under the balls. That would not wear off until Monday, and probably not even for a few more days.
The more intended tortures were next. My nipple bases were burning real bad from the tight cords cutting into them, while I worried quite a bit about their tips being pretty cold and quite numb, and I used a small pair of scissors to cut the cord. Trying to unwrap it made me wince with pain and let a muffled scream out behind my gag. The cord had quite literally cut into the taut skin and flesh, and the first fraction of an inch I had freed was raw and bleeding. This was not going to be pleasant, but I decided to "cheat" the same way as with removing clamps, using arousal to dampen the pain. First I cut the cord on the other nipple as well, then put a pair of soft thongs on my feet, went to my bedroom, grabbed a vibrator from the toy chest under my bed, turned it on high, putting it to the ropes through my pussy over my clit, letting it do its thing.
I lay there, still a bit aroused and tingling from the adventure before, relaxing as I felt an orgasm building, finding and gripping the cut cord on my left nipple with my free hand, and as the first wave of the orgasm rolled through me, I pulled the string, forcing it free from its indent into my nipple, the pain mixing and breaking with the following waves of pleasure as I screamed muffled through my gag. Before my body had stilled, my hand found the cord on my other nipple and started pulling, the burning pain adding to the lingering pleasure and stimulation from the vibrator, and as a second orgasm rolled through my body, I pulled the cord off that nipple as well. It hurt really, really bad and I again screamed into the gag, the scream growing to a high-pitched shriek as the cold numbness in the freed tips slowly was replaced by a red-hot agony more intense than from any clamp I had ever removed. I didn't look, but from the slick feeling on my fingertips, I was pretty sure my nipples were pretty raw and bleeding as well, and the intense pain told me I most probably didn't have to worry about gangrene having set in during the prolonged restriction of them.
Still, I wasn't done, and as the insistent vibrator pushed me towards a new peak despite the pains, I reached down with my free hand and carefully gripped the clamp on one labia. As the orgasm hit, I opened the jaws of the clamp and pulled if off the agonized fold of flesh. The pain was so intense that it kind of reset the orgasm, bringing tears to my eyes, but it didn't let me down from the peak and I quickly grabbed the other clamp, releasing it from its tortured labia as well, shrieking muffled into my gag again and again. This definitely broke the orgasm and I took the vibrator from the crotch ropes, lying there panting and sobbing as the pains in my nipples and labia slowly faded into a dull aching.
When I finally looked down, I was shocked from the bloody mess my nipples presented, with small trickles of blood running down my still tied, swollen, taut and purplish breasts. Those wounds needed tending to, and I slowly got on my feet again and shuffled towards the bathroom, wincing from the pain in my feet and labia when the raw and sore spots from the clamps rubbed lightly on the crotch ropes. I dumped the soiled dog toys I brought with me in the sink, and after softly dabbing and wiping my nipples with soothing and disinfecting alsol solution, they actually didn't look quite as bad as I had feared. It seemed to be just the first turn or two of cord on each nipple that had really cut the skin, while the rest had just left sharp indents. I went on to examine my labia, and despite the weighted clamps having left sharp, raw and very sore indents on them, there was no bleeding, so I left them as was. The chafes on my feet were worse, but I was kind of used to that from social occasions with standing and dancing for hours in heels, so I dabbed them with alsol solution as well, wiping some blood from both them and the thongs before I decided I was done with them for now.
My neck was next. Despite the ropes I had used to bind up my breasts being pretty soft, the strands over my shoulders and behind my neck to lift them had taken quite a bit of weight, and together with all the moving around, that had left chafed indents that made it feel quite a relief as I untied the "bra strings" behind my neck and let my breasts down. The marks were pretty sore, but no blood, so I guessed they would be OK in a day or a few. The breasts themself didn't seem too bad either, except for the badly abused nipples, despite some bruises and scratches, probably from me landing on them twice when I lost balance. They were aching and purplish from the tight binding, and feeling a bit numb, but despite the length and severity of the session, they still felt warm and a bit tingling when I groped them, so I decided to leave them as was for now.
The crotch ropes were much worse, having pressed, rubbed and chafed during my long walk so my entire crotch felt raw, in no way lessened by the ropes being moistened by my pee, and as I untied them and slowly pulled the soaked ropes from my cleft, it hurt quite a bit. There was a chafed and raw red or purple area from my waist down to my cleft, and from the feel of it, that area continued through my crotch, and up between my asscheeks as well. Even if it was extremely sensitive to touch, I could feel no blood there either though, so I figured it would heal rather soon as well. Next was the big toy in my pussy. The hard rubber with its nubs, studs and bumps had really done its work on my interior, and it wasn't until I tried to pull it out that I understood how battered and sore it had left my vagina. I winced as the bumps left the indents they seemed to have created inside me, and the relief from the ones digging painfully into my cervix leaving it was balanced by the pain of the rest rubbing my very sore interior walls. Finally it was out though, shining from my juices and with the handle between the big end-pieces almost hidden in white goo.
I had intentionally left the gag for last, expecting it to be useful until I had relieved some of the other tortures which as expected had made me try to scream. The surgical mask covering it was the easy part, while the tape holding it in place seemed to have almost welded both with my skin and with the hair at the nape of my neck as I pulled it off, struggling with myself if I should go fast or try to take it careful to spare myself. The careful approach didn't do much good, so I eventually ripped it off fast, wincing from the pain in skin and hair. The big rubber ball, still wrapped in my panties, came out with almost surprising ease, but my jaws were so sore from being forced wide open for so many hours that it took me several minutes just to be able to close them and then open them again.
Part 8: Reward
Getting myself a nice reward for my labor and a happy end.
The clock on the wall showed almost 2 AM when I was done. I was dead tired, both physically and mentally exhausted, and almost every part of my body seemed sore and aching. Still, I really felt I needed to relax and spoil myself a bit after the long and intense adventure before going to bed, so I started filling the bathtub with warm water and bubble bath. While it was filling up, I went first to the kitchen, got a glass and filled it with ice cubes from the freezer, then to the bedroom and toy chest under my bed, picking out out two additional pairs of police cuffs, two pairs of metal thumb cuffs, and a remote controlled, water-proof clit and g-spot vibrator. When I returned to the bathroom, I left the cuffs, together with the pair already used, by the bathtub.
Then I set the ice timer, moving its noosed ring from the hook on the bathroom cabinet, where I had set it up in the morning, to the drying rack over the bathtub, untied its short nylon stocking and filled it with ice cubes that would normally last a couple of hours, but which I guessed would only last about half the time in the warm damp from the bath, threaded it through the ring and re-tied it to the small, softly padded, child dumbbell with the key ring. The design was as simple as could be and had never failed during the tens of times I had tested and used it so far. Once the ice had melted enough, the dumbbell pulled the nylon stocking through the ring and fell down with the keys, in reach for me to get hold of. With the necessary technicalities done, I slid the vibrator into my still tender but nonetheless wet and slick pussy, used the remote to set it on a rather low and slow vibe, before putting the remote on top of the bathroom cabinet, and then sliding into the wonderfully warm, foamy and aromatic water, fitting my inflatable neck pillow and feeling how my body started to relax.
While the tub was filling, I reached for a pair of thumb cuffs, locked my big toes together with them, then a pair of police cuffs locking my ankles together, and another pair locking one cuff around the chain of the first pair. Waiting for the tube to fill completely, I let my hands explore and sooth my still tightly tied, swollen and sensitive breasts, fondling them and very gently rubbing across the tips of my abused nipples. It didn't take many seconds before the wet caresses on top of the vibes rewarded me with a soft orgasm. I leaned back and just enjoyed while the tub was filling and the vibrator slowly built me towards a new peak. When the tub was filled, I turned off the water, put the last pairs of cuffs on my left wrist and left thumb, routinely checking that the keyholes were in the right direction so I could get at them eventually, brought my hands down behind my back, locked the wrist together and then in a hogtie with the cuff to the ankle cuffs, before locking my thumbs together as well.
I was floating in the warm water and pleasure as the vibrator kept building me to orgasm after orgasm, the cuffs making me helpless to prevent it, the aching and tension in my tightly tied and swollen breasts soothed by the warm water to an arousing mix adding to the pleasure and orgasms. As I was lying there, almost asleep, my mind started wandering, someone else coming into the bathroom, greedy hands on my wet and soapy breasts, groping and kneading hard, a hard cock pushing against my lips, forcing them open, demanding for my tongue to play with it, to suck it deep and hard, before the strong hands hefted me out of the water, down on the floor on my belly, my own weight crushing my breasts against the floor, still tightly hogtied, while I felt the tip of his cock pressing into my rear entry, spreading it slowly but painfully, before I felt it sliding deeper, starting to fuck me hard in a mixture of pleasure and burning pain, rubbing my swollen breasts and agonized nipples across the hard floor while the strong hands spanked my ass cheeks and hips, until I felt him stiffen, his cock pulse within me and filling my ass up with hot semen. And then he's gone, leaving me helpless and used, frustrated and in so much need.
When I returned to reality, the foam had melted and the water had started to turn cold, the vibrator had stilled, probably out of batteries, but I still felt wonderful, relaxed and so satisfied. I hadn't even noticed when the dumbbell with the keys had fallen and splashed into the water, but I could reach it without problems and it was just a couple of minutes work to get the cuffs unlocked. I removed the dead vibrator and finally, almost a bit reluctantly, untied my breasts, enjoying the tingle in them as full circulation returned and the itching around their bases where the ropes had chafed some, left the ropes together with the vibrator, cuffs and dumbbell on a towel by the sink before I showered and wrapped myself in another soft towel, rubbing myself dry, dabbing softly at my still sore nipples and crotch area. The wounds on my nipples and feet had stopped bleeding and hurting but they were still raw and sore to the touch, as I noticed when I dabbed and wiped them with alsol solution once more, to prevent any complications. Usually, I cleaned things up properly when done, but tonight I was too spent, so I just left things as were, went into the bedroom and crashed into bed. I fell asleep within seconds, and didn't wake up before in the afternoon the next day.
Saturday and Sunday, I spent mostly with my feet up, still too drained to get much done, just cleaned things up from the night before, listened to music, read and checked some on my pad, giving my chafed feet a chance to rest and heal, and window blinds shut since I was dressed just in a soft, cozy robe with open top to let my breasts spill out, and no panties since both my nipples and pussy needed some time off from things rubbing them. Monday, I took the car and wore soft sneakers to work, which brought a few questions from colleagues since it wasn't my regular style. I answered pretty truthfully "Night out, new shoes, bad idea.", which brought some sympathetic smiles and giggles. In all honesty, the "bad idea" might not have been quite truthful, because despite the discomfort, I enjoyed and was a bit distracted from the small reminders of my Friday night walk home, from my still tender nipples, pussy and feet.