© Copyright 2003 - Michelle - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; bond; chast; latex; Sbm; susp; caught; F/m; cons; X
Michelle 7: A Kind of Revenge
As Steve went out of the door, he tossed me the keys to my bonds. He was going to be away for a week, and we had said all our farewells. His parting gift was to leave me chained up in a ball. It was going to take me some time to release myself. I twisted myself round, and rolled back so that I could pick up the bunch, using my handcuffed hands. There were over a dozen keys on the ring, and I had to try more than half of them before I found the one that fitted. With a struggle, I managed to reach the chains holding my elbows. I could just reach one elbow with my other hand. One at a time, I again tried different keys, always struggling to find the keyhole in the padlock one-handed. It took me over half an hour to release my elbows. Then it was the padlock holding my head down near my crossed ankles and I was finally able to uncurl. The chains on my ankles, thighs and neck were easy.
At last, I was able to stretch out. The final lock was on my chastity belt. I tried all the keys, and tried them again, in case I had missed one. No luck. I was locked into it. Swearing at Steve, I started to search the house, trying every draw and cupboard. Slowly, it started to dawn on me that he had taken the key with him, and intended me to spend the week locked into a chastity belt. No way!
I started to get really angry. How dare he try to inflict this onto me! I got dressed and made my way down to the hardware shop, acutely aware of the hard metal pressing between my legs. At least, no-one else could see any sign of it. At some considerable expense, I bought a set of bolt-croppers. The fire brigade may have these, but there was no way I was going to them for help. Then it was back to the garage and, by locking one handle in the vice and operating the other, I was able to cut both side bands.
I was free of the chastity belt and very, very angry.
As always, in these circumstances, I got myself ready for a walk. I find that I can cool off whilst I walk, and get some sort of a sense of proportion about things. Mind you, my sort of a walk isn’t the same as everyone else’s! In my case, it means getting dressed in my red rubber full body suit, putting on my knee-length boots, and covering it all with a track suit. Into the pockets of this, I put any extra toys that I think I’ll need, such as a hood, rubber gloves etc.
Then I was off on my wanderings. I live on the edge of the village, so I was quickly out into the countryside, following footpaths up towards one of my favourite areas of woodland. Instead of stopping there, I carried on along a track which I knew was there, but had never followed before. In a clearing near the ridge, I came to an old barn. This looked interesting, but I needed to check it out. I approached it quietly, and peered in through a broken window.
I froze for a second. There was someone inside! I was about to stealthily withdraw, when I realised what the man was doing. He was obviously into self-bondage, and was involved in a heavy session. For the first time in my life, I became a voyeur.
He was dressed in a black cotton catsuit, and was in the process of fitting suspension cuffs to his ankles. As I watched, he proceeded to chain and padlock his legs together at ankle, knee and thigh. Then he hooked his suspension cuffs to a hanging chain, and started to haul himself up into the air using a second loop of chain. It was one of those hoists called a Weston Differential, where you pull on one continuous loop of chain, and this works through gearing to pull the other chain up, or let it down, depending on which way you pull the loop.
When he had got himself off the ground, but still able to reach it, he stopped. He reached down to his pile of toys on the floor. He plugged his ears with something, and strapped on a ball-gag. Then he put on a blindfold, and pulled on a black hood, made from the same material as his catsuit.
Now that he couldn’t possibly see me, I quietly made my way into the barn, to watch him more closely.
His final action was to carefully check that his bunch of keys was on the floor beneath him, before he picked up a pair of handcuffs, and locked his wrists together behind his back. It was an interesting escape mechanism. Even with his hands in cuffs, he could lower himself using the chain and then, once he was on the ground. he would be able to reach his keys and release himself.
In normal circumstances, I would have left him to his own devices, but my mood was far from normal. I was still angry at Steve because of how he had left me and, during my supposed cooling-off walk, this had simmered into anger with all men. This unlucky man in the barn had come into my firing line before I had fully cooled down, and he paid the penalty for my not being able to get at Steve!
I stepped forward and swept up the chain, hooking it over a bracket on the wall, so that he couldn’t possibly reach it. Then for good measure, I picked up his keys. He was now helpless - suspended upside-down in mid-air, chained, gagged and blindfolded. He knew someone had done something, because he was frantically feeling for the lowering chain with his handcuffed hands. He was totally at my mercy, and would soon come to know it!
After a few minutes thought, I decided that I wanted him to see his tormentor, but not to be able to recognise me. That was easily organised. I stripped off my track suit, and put on my hood. This one had eye and mouth holes. I was now totally encased in rubber, showing off my figure to the full, but unidentifiable. I could enjoy my fantasies to the full and would give him a thrill he had never expected when he saw me.
Now was the time! I moved forward and touched his head. He froze, probably terrified of what might be going to happen. I simply pulled off his hood and blindfold, so that he could see me, and stood in front of him, striking my best dominatrix pose – legs apart and hands on hips. Even upside-down and with a ball-gag in place, it was possible to read the emotions running across his face. First fear, then surprise and puzzlement. Then he started to take in my dress and stance. Slowly but surely, he started to think things through. And the more he thought about it, the more his body reacted.
I suppose every self-bondage practitioner has the thrill of imagining what would happen if they were discovered. Why else do they take the risks they do? And I suspect that, in his fantasies, being discovered by a rubber-clad dominatrix must be pretty high up his list.
Mind, I wasn’t going to indulge him in his fantasies – he was going to indulge me in mine. I lowered him down so that his face was a few inches from the ground, and removed his gag and ear plugs. Then I unzipped my catsuit crotch zip so that I was fully exposed and lay down with my legs apart and either side of his face, so that his mouth was firmly pressed into my private parts.
“OK, fella”, I said. “You don’t even get a chance to go free until you’ve made it worth my while. Get busy with that tongue.”
And he went to work with a will. I had become roused already, watching him tie himself up, and then when I took control of him. But now I really started to get worked up. His eager tongue seemed to leap around inside me, teasing and caressing, and I started to get hotter and hotter. I could feel everything surging towards a final crescendo. I clamped my thighs around his head, and heaved my hips into the air as a vast wave of ecstasy swept through me.
As I collapsed back, I relaxed my thighs and released him, gasping for air.
As we both started to recover, he spoke: “Please Mistress, what are you going to do to me?”
“Silence!” I ordered. If his fantasy involved my being his Mistress, he couldn’t complain if I stayed in charge.
I hoisted him back up into the air, so that his face was at my waist level, and I replaced his ear plugs and gag. Then, I replaced his hood so that, once again, he was totally in my power. Then I hoisted him right up to the top of the barn, so that he was some 20 feet in the air. He wasn’t going anywhere until I was good and ready for him to.
I removed my hood and straightened my hair, and then pulled on my track suit. Then, as a parting gesture, I placed his keys on the ground under him, and unhooked the chain loop so that he could reach it again. Given time, he could lower himself to the ground, release his handcuffs, and free himself.
By that time, I was long gone, though I often wonder whether he visited that barn again, perhaps in the hope that he might have a similar experience, or whether he tried to find out who his tormentor had been.
The next day there was a letter from Steve, enclosing the key to the
chastity belt, with effusive apologies for having accidentally taken it
with him. That, combined with my memories of the barn, meant that
he was forgiven by the time he got back, although I decided that he would
still have to pay a price for his forgetfulness. But that’s a different