Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Misadventure of the Empty House

by Professor Challenger

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© Copyright 2012 - Professor Challenger - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; chast; chain; harness; gag; naked; cell; stuck; F/m; bdsm; tease; true; cons; X

It happened that I was assisting a friend in rehabbing a local rental property she had bought recently. I'm no great shakes as a workman, but I could periodically check in and send her updates on the status of the work.

The house was a duplex, with flats on the first and second floors. It also had a delightfully dark and dingy old-fashioned basement, which was last on the schedule of things to be upgraded. The space had been divided into a number of small (cell-like!) rooms with concrete block walls. One, a windowless room in the center of the north wall, had been fitted with a cage like door, a welded steel framework with a grille of heavy mesh. There was a latch only on the outside, although an opening in the mesh allowed it to be opened from the inside as well. There was also a hasp for a padlock that could be accessed the same way. I had plans for this room.

There came a weekend when the upper flat had been finished and rented, and plastering work on the first floor had been finished. The painters would not begin work until Monday.

My Mistress had to work that Saturday afternoon, so that was a good time for me to play. Per our arrangement, I had told her the full details of where I was going to go and what I was going to do, since she would be my safety for the plan. I saw her off to work and then set off across town with my gear.

I parked in the back. The upstairs tenant was accustomed to seeing my car there, so this would cause no comment. I entered using my key, and carried my things down to the dungeon room and laid them out. Then I went up to the first floor, entered there, and undressed in an empty bedroom, stripping down to nothing but my steel chastity and ballet slippers, since the floor of the basement was grimy and rough.

I went to the basement. First I took the key to a large padlock I had brought, tied about thirty feet of string to it, and attached the other end firmly to the padlock hasp of the room. I would have to reel up all the string in order to retrieve the key.

Next, I put down a single page of newspaper just at the threshold of the room, carefully placing it half in and half out. I closed the door part way, and set the key to another set of padlocks on the outer end of the paper, outside the room. I had carefully checked that I could pull the key into the room under the door using the paper. Next, I padlocked one end of a six-foot steel cable around the sewer pipe that came down along the outer wall. After that, I attached one end of a TimeCuff, a specialized handcuff modified with an ice release, around an adjacent water pipe.

Next, I took my cellphone, made sure it was charged, on, and had "bars" in the basement, and set it aside where I would be able to reach it later. This was my safety net.

My personal bondage gear was what I called my unified chain set. The centerpiece of this is a hinged steel belt which padlocks closed around my waist. Once on, it does not come off without the lock being removed. To this is attached a set of shackles, the ankle chain shortened to a hobble, and attached to the waist belt by a chain that just allows me to stand with legs straight.

Up from the belt, another chain connects to a locking metal collar, and light side chains with tiny locks that locked to my nipple rings. Other chains from the waist locked to my chastity device, and another held a pair of standard handcuffs a few inches from my waist. I put this on, except for the handcuffs.

I put on a leather head harness that covered my mouth and held a soft rubber gag inside, testing to see that I was effectively gagged, yet not too tightly for comfort. Next, I padlocked the free end of the steel cable to my waist, and locked the free end of the TimeCuff through a ring at the center of my shackle chains. All the keys to this bondage were upstairs with my clothing. With a last check around and a sigh of satisfaction, I clasped the handcuffs around my wrists, fettering my hands together and a few inches from my waist.

I writhed and struggled to test the bondage, but I was secure. The TimeCuff assembly was about a foot long, so that was how closely I was shackled to the back wall of the room until the ice melted. I had measured the water amount for about two hours, so it would be a bit less than that period of time before I would be able to move away from the wall. In that time, I went into "subspace", imagining that I was a helpless captive for an unknown period of time, and imagining what cruel captors might do to me. Aroused, my cock strained against its cage, and I thrust my hips uselessly.

From time to time I tested the progress of the TimeCuff thawing. The plug can gradually be pulled loose, letting melt water dribble onto the floor, and slowly extending the amount of internal cable that can be pulled out, until at last the ice gave way and the cuffs separated, allowing me greater freedom of the room.

At this point, the limitation on my freedom of movement was the steel cable, which held me a foot away from the door and the key to the padlock. To get out of the room, I needed to get free of the cable, the key to which lay outside the room on the sheet of newspaper. Even squatting down carefully, the end of the sheet was just outside my hands' reach, but, standing up, I could put my toe on it. Very gingerly, I slowly tugged the paper into the room, drawing the key along with it, careful not to tear the paper or get it hung up on irregularities in the floor. When I had it close enough, I squatted down again, and pulled the paper into the room with a smooth motion.

It's always overconfidence that gets us, isn't it? As I tugged the paper into the room, an unseen, almost invisible protuberance on the bottom of the door, a bit of the grille wire protruding, caught the key and caused it to bounce off, landing six inches outside the door and hopelessly out of my reach.

I crouched there on my haunches and hung my head. I was hosed. This was a critical failure point, since the bondage situation had been designed so that every step had to work. I racked my brains but there was no way out. The room was completely bare except for me and my gear, and every bit of it, including me, was anchored to the pipe well away from the door.

Resignedly, I shuffled over to where I had set down the cellphone. The buckles to my gag harness were out of my reach, but with hands cuffed in front of me, I could text. I keyed in Mistress' number and sent the message, HELP OK.

The code HELP OK meant that I was stuck, but not in any danger. HELP 911 would have meant that there was a real emergency and she should call 911 and hang the consequences. Since I was suffering no more than the expectable discomforts, HELP OK it was.

I had to wait a few minutes for the text to be returned: OK C U L8R ;) . I sighed. I knew she couldn't leave work because of this: the extra hours I would remain locked up were one of the forfeits I would suffer for failing to escape. The winking smiley cued me that there would be more.

The messages had been passed shortly after three PM. It wasn't until after five forty-five that I heard the door open upstairs, and footsteps above. I heard water run, then steps on the basement stairs.

"George, are you here? Are you OK?" Mistress called. I made affirmative noises through my gag, and stood as close to the grating as I could so she could see I was all right. She had picked up the door padlock key and strode toward me, rolling up the string as she came. She unlocked the padlock and opened the door. "So, what failed?" she asked.

I pointed to the other key laying at her feet. "Ah," she said, "The paper trick. I thought that would be the sticking point." She picked up the key, pocketed it, and came over to me, where she undid my gag. As she worked it out of my mouth carefully, she asked, "Thirsty?"

"Yes," I said, licking my lips to moisten them. She stepped out of the room and brought in a cup of water, and helped me to drink it. Then, she presented the gag to my mouth again.

At my surprised look, she said, "What? You know you're going to get a whipping for screwing up, so in with the gag. We don't want the upstairs tenant hearing anything." I winced, but opened my mouth for the gag. She buckled the straps, then, after I nodded that the fit was OK, surprised me by producing a small padlock and putting it through the buckle. This told me there was more coming than even promised.

This was confirmed when she unlocked the padlock around the pipe, and, with one hand on the cable and the other grasping the chain to my nipple rings (always a way to get my full attention and compliance!) hauled me over until my hands were almost touching the pipe. To my consternation, she wrapped the cable around the pipe multiple times, and then locked the free end off to my waist belt so that I was held only inches from the pipe and couldn’t move in any direction.

While I was desperately feeling around the cable, determining exactly what she had done, I ignored her swift steps out of and into the room, until the burning crack of a crop across my buttocks made me forget everything else.

"And these are for being clumsy, and making me come up here!" She was truly—inspired. I'd never been cropped by her with such vigor and intensity. My eyes streamed, my cock strained, and I knew I was going to have lasting welts. At last, she stopped, and came with a tissue to wipe my face and let me blow my nose. "Will you be all right?" she asked. I nodded, then stiffened as her palm caressed my burning buttock. She laughed, delightedly. "You'll remember that for a while. Now, stand there and cool off a bit."

I stood and waited while she went out of the room, upstairs, then back down, moving around where I could not see her. At last she came back into the room. She picked up my cell phone and fiddled with it, then set it down near my feet. While she was down there, I felt here reach between my feet and heard something clink as she set it on the floor.

"OK, now, here's the deal," she said as she stood up. "You're a clever man, you should be able to figure out how to get the key and get loose from here. I'll be generous and give you an hour. If you haven't texted me by then, I'll call E-911 to come get you, and you can have fun explaining it all to them. Number two, the hour starts when I send you a message. Until then, I'll be watching." She showed me the screen of her smartphone, which was picking up video from mine. I could see a shot of myself as seen from the floor, her hand and arm in the picture. "Number three, don't call me again. If you screw up again, you can either try calling 911 yourself, or stay here until someone finds you Monday morning. Clear?"

Stunned, I nodded. I doubted that she'd really follow up on that last threat, but I felt pretty certain that she'd have no compunction about letting me stew over night in my miserable dungeon. "OK, dear," She gave me a peck on the cheek, a tweak of my nipple, and a swat on my flaming buttock that made me grunt in protest. "Have fun. I love you."

I could only listen as she stepped out of my dungeon, closed the door, and clicked the padlock closed. "Bye now!" and her footsteps receded up the stairs. A moment later, I heard the outer door of the house close. I strained my ears, and was pretty sure I heard a car engine start up, and then leave. Rats! Mistress would never text and drive, so that meant she wouldn't even allow me to start my next escape attempt until she got home. I could, however, visualize her checking the video feed at red lights and stop signs. I was sure she could at least make out my posture in the dim light, if not admire the bruises coming up on my rear end.

After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only half that, my phone chirped the incoming message. By this time, I thought I had figured out the escape means. The loops of the cable were just loose enough that I could slide them down a little bit at a time, then shift myself down to where there was slack again, then move the cable down. The evil part of this was the series of bent-knees stances I had to maintain while doing this. I ended up resting myself against the dirty, cold sewer pipe, only to jerk away, startled, as a flush surged and gurgled through the pipe. Well, now I knew for sure the upstairs neighbor was home. At last I managed to get far enough down that my hands, reaching down between my legs, could reach the floor. Sure enough, the key was there as promised. It took a minute or two to unlock one end of the cable. Then I was able to loosen it from the pipe, and stand up and away. It was a minute's more work to unlock the other end from my waist, coil the cable, and lock the ends together. I dropped it to the floor, then picked up the phone. I read the message there, and my heart sank. BTW, MADE SOME MORE CHNGES TO UR PLAN! ;) . Oh, well--. I could only wait and see what came next. Wasting no time, I replied to the message, indicating I was free of the cable and proceeding. OK came back.

Next was the door. I reached through the opening, and began reeling in the string. I felt sick when the string initially felt lighter than it ought. Then, at the thirty-foot point, I found a knot adding more string. Grimly, I continued carefully reeling in the string. If it caught or broke, it would be irredeemable disaster. I didn't think she'd had time to unreel the entire ball of string I had brought, and I was proven right when, after two hundred feet of tedious work the padlock key came to my hand.

I broke off the string (with the key inside my cell!) and tied a loop, also adding the cable padlock key, and looped it around my wrist so I couldn't drop it. Opening the door padlock one-handed was a bit tricky but took little time. I pulled the lock out of the hasp, tripped the latch, and the door came open. Free—at least until the next obstacle appeared.

Awkwardly gathering up the cable, door padlock, and cellphone, I went upstairs, and speedily encountered that next obstacle. The stairway came up into a small foyer or mud room between the outer door and the inner. Both took the same key, but when I tried it, the inner door was locked! I glanced around the area, and spotted a key on the floor in the corner. Upon inspecting it, however, I saw that it was the key to my car. There had to be more to it than this, Mistress knew there was no way I could drive home this way. I looked out the back door window and saw my car still on the slab. Although it was now nearly eight o'clock, there was still nearly an hour of pitiless daylight left that would expose me to any neighbor's view if I tried to get to the car now. I texted, WAIT UNTIL DARK? The reply came, YES.

The stairwell continued up to the upstairs flat. There was nowhere for me to hide except back in the basement, so I retreated back down until night fell. I spent the time sneaking glances up the stairs at the windows in the door, and glances at the time display on my phone. By 9:30 it was dark enough, and I was tired enough that I decided to go for it. Walking as smoothly as possible to minimize chains jingling, I crept out to my car, and unlocked and opened the front door.

I winced at the light, but it lit up another key placed on the driver's seat which I recognized as the house key. I snatched it and closed the door. So, I needed to go back into the house.

I had carefully left the outer door unlocked in case of need, but now was able to get into the first floor apartment. Quickly, I checked the bedroom where I had started. Nothing was there, not my keys, not my clothes, not even my gear bag. Well, there had to be a clue there somewhere, so I prowled as best I could through the other rooms. I found a single key shining on the bathroom floor. It figured I would come here—my bladder was bursting. However, I tried the key first, and, as I guessed, it unlocked the chain holding my handcuffs to my waist—the one thing I really needed in order to be able to drive. Also, it was much easier to use the toilet with some freedom of the arms.

I added the key to my string, and went back out, locking the house behind me. In the car, I texted HEADING HOME. I got back DRIVE CAREFULLY.

It wouldn't be the first time I had driven at night naked, nor even the first time chained. However, this was the first time so stringently, and the gag harness was still locked on. Not to mention that my metal collar and nipple chains would be visible to a close look. However, I also knew from experience that it's hard to see inside cars at night, and most people don't try to peer at other drivers. I couldn't put the seat belt on properly, but had the belt secured, the shoulder harness running uncomfortably under my armpit. I figured if I was stopped, I might not actually be breaking any other laws (I wouldn't be exposing myself until I got out of the car--), so why take a chance for a "no seat belt" citation? A naked driver at night is VERY careful. Plus, my welted rear on the seats kept me alert--.

I drove though less-traveled and darker streets to home, with no problem, although it takes extra effort to drive with cuffed hands. Once into the garage, again, lights were on, but I looked around carefully before getting out and getting to the house door. The door was locked, and I had no keys, so I had to ring the bell. How long would Mistress make me wait?

As it turned out, not long. My restrained cock sprang to attention in its cage as the door opened, revealing Mistress, clad only in a sheer negligee, open down the front. She reached out and once again took firm control of my nipple chains. "You made it!" she smiled. "Now, come here and let me unlock that gag!"

The end

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