Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Motel Tales: Rest Assured

by Peter Lock

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© Copyright 2005 - Peter Lock - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; motel; latex; cd; fem; corset; stockings; gag; straps; toys; insert; caught; F/m; bond; rope; wrap; tape; cocoon; tease; denial; oral; climax; femdom; cons; X

Motel Tales: Rest Assured or (How I Learned to Appreciate Free Time on a Business Trip)

Like many of the writers on Gromet’s web page, I have been tying myself up for many years. In my case, the time spans about four decades, which is probably a larger time-span than for most of those other writers. It was a great delight to find the self-bondage page because I had no idea that such a fascinating repository of experience existed. To discover that there is apparently a world of self-binders out there who are as interested in writing about the subject as I am, and who are apparently at least as kinky and inventive as I am, too, is quite exciting. It doesn’t take a lot of brainpower to ascertain that some of the postings are fictional, but I am sure that a not insignificant fraction of them are probably true experiences. And despite my many years of experience, I have already gleaned some interesting new ideas.

For me, discovery of Gromet’s web pages is a bit of a Déjà Vu. It is reminiscent of the time three decades ago when I first discovered that there are other people out in this big world besides me who like to be tied up, as well as a healthy quantity of people who like to do the tying. That was a shocking revelation for me at the time as I had spent the previous eleven years of my life (which was more than half of my life at that point) tying myself up, but always wondering as I did so, why I was so “sick and perverted” (my own interpretation of my activities as I had managed to keep them hidden from absolutely everyone).

Unfortunately, the revelation only came after I had married a very conventional, conservative Midwestern woman. Love and affection slowly bled out of our relationship for a variety of reasons a long time ago; the void was filled with anger and animosity. The result was inevitable; we packed our cars and moved off in different directions, connected now, only by our children. Because of all the painful memories, I decided to remain alone and instead to pursue my interests in performing and writing about self-bondage once more. During the latter years of my marriage, commitments to house and home had kept me from doing either as often as I liked, so I was looking forward to some time on my own for a while.

Consequently, self-bondage has become a bit more important in my life again, although the opportunities are still rare. My plans are often made far in advance of any private sessions, so when I feel that I have enough time to truly enjoy my games, I drag out the toys and clothes, and play according to my pre-scripted scenarios. But oddly enough, this tale isn’t about any of my current self-bondage experiences. Instead, this narrative is about one of the few, true bondage relationships I had in my life. It is about a wonderful, unexpected occurrence that I had in California about fifteen years ago…

Frequently, when I made a business excursion to the west coast, I brought a suitcase full of my goodies with me. That included devices for binding as well as for self-torture. (By self-torture I mean devices like nipple clamps, clothespins, c&b harnesses, etc. Sadly, in today’s world, I don’t think that I would even consider bringing some of those toys with me!) After my arrival in California, I would load my stuff into the rental car and head off to the hotel for some private pleasure prior to the beginning of the meeting.

On one particular occasion, I decided to give myself some extra fun time. Unknown to my wife (this occurred long before my wife and I parted ways), the meeting started on Tuesday, but I flew out to the Golden State on Sunday afternoon so I could play with my toys and explore the kinky shops of LA for a full day before the agony of the boring meetings set in. After a cross-country flight, the plane touched down around 3:00 in the afternoon, local time.

A business colleague had discovered a nice, quiet motel about 30 minutes NW of LA and mentioned it to me; at first I questioned the logic of choosing the place as it is a bit out of the way; but the rate was great, the service was excellent, and the rooms were spacious. (I use the past tense only because I haven't been to the place for years, but I suspect that nothing has changed.) The rooms all included an empty refrigerator/freezer and a small kitchenette. The TV even had a VCR connection. (The only time that I rented any of the tapes in the hotel lobby was the first time that I stayed at the place. Afterwards I brought my own viewing material.)

Typically, I stopped on the way to the hotel to buy some Chinese food because it was usually sufficient for a couple of meals, which saved me a little bit of money; and the food was already in convenient storage packages which were easily reheated in a microwave oven. In addition, I bought some soda and a bottle of wine at a nearby convenience store. (Why buy drinks from the soda machine at the hotel when you can get it for only about 1/4th the cost and refrigerate it yourself?) On this particular occasion, I also stopped at a hardware store to buy some extra rope and duct tape, as well as dowel rods, metal hooks, and a couple of other disposable items.

After checking in at the hotel office, I brought my luggage and dinner to my room. Normally I asked for a room on a higher level, but the motel was filled that day and I ended up on the ground floor with a room looking out at the swimming pool. Obviously, I would be keeping the drapes closed on that trip! (The thought occurred to me that I could take a dip while wearing a chastity harness and butt plug, but I set that idea aside for the time being.)

A short while later I had my toys sorted out on the second bed: cuffs, gags, rope and straps, locks with keys, body harness, chastity devices, and butt plugs. In addition, I arranged my erotic feminine lingerie in my second suitcase and left it propped open on the clothing chest, while my daily clothes had been placed in the closet and dresser drawers.

To start I stripped out of my clothes and took a relaxing shower. Plane flights from the east coast to the west coast take much too long, and tend to leave one with cramped muscles from sitting in those awful, uncomfortable seats. Afterwards, I toweled off and blew-dry my hair. Before flying out to California, I had given my body a complete shave with my wife’s electric leg shaver (a gift, ironically, from me), but I gave myself a touchup with a twin blade shaver and cream while in the shower. I was particularly careful about shaving my genitals completely clean as I had special plans for that trip.

In fact, I decided that that was the best time to start with my plans, so after toweling myself dry, I returned to the bedroom area. I looked at the clock. It was already 5:30. Because it was Sunday, most of the places that I wanted to visit would probably be closed already. Well, maybe not. It was LA, after all, and they do things differently out there. But I had already made my decision.

With a wicked smile, I selected an eight foot long leather cord and a liquid-filled plastic jar from the collection of goodies on the bed, and then returned quickly to the bathroom. I stood with my legs spread wide, and with the aid of a magnifying hand mirror, I did a careful re-examination of my crotch to search for stray hairs. I was satisfied that the job was adequate, so I tied up my cock and balls with the cord. I found the center of the cord, placed it directly beneath the root of my balls, and then wound a single counter-clockwise and a clockwise loop around both my balls and cock, pulling the cord tight to snare both sex organs together, securing it with a tight granny knot underneath my balls. I then wound half a dozen loops separately around each of my nuts, the leather cord pushed deeply into the skin between my nuts and around each small orb, to divide them into two small, distinctly separate balls. This stretched the skin taut, and increased the sensitivity tremendously. Then I wound a few more coils around both of them together to enhance the discomfort as it pushed them together against the pressure of the multiple strands of leather snugged tightly between them; after one more tug of the crossed ends of the cord between my balls and cock to further constrict the noose, a final triple knot finished the stricture. (I snapped the handle of my toothbrush against each smooth, shiny ball and winced from the sharp pain. Yup, they were stretched enough.)

After confirming the tightness of the knots, I snipped the cords with scissors so there were no loose ends. I then used the remaining pieces of cord to encircle the base of my cock as well as that funny narrow space just behind the soft, fleshy helmet that is the head of my cock. The main part of my shaft bulged between the two nooses. I knotted those cords on the underside of my prick and used the scissors again. I grimaced when I thought about what I had done to myself. the leather cords on my peter and acorns would be very difficult to remove when I finished my self-bondage session!

Then came the fun part. I unscrewed the lid from the jar that I had brought into the bathroom and raised the bottle up between my legs so my balls entered the wide mouth of the liquid-filled vessel. After a few moments, I pulled the bottle down and re-examined my balls with the hand magnifier mirror; they were now both covered with shimmering ebony liquid latex. Even the leather that encircled my nuts was covered with a layer of rapidly coagulating black material. One of the items that I purchased at the store was a package of disposable, foam paintbrushes. Using one of the brushes, I then applied a liberal coat of the liquid latex to my throbbing cock, as well as over my shaven groin.

Because the stuff doesn’t dry instantly, I duck-walked back to the kitchenette to eat my dinner. By the time I had eaten about a third of my meal and downed my first glass of wine, my sex organs were ready for a second coat so I returned to the bathroom and repeated the process. It took more than an hour-and-a-half, but eventually, my organs and crotch area were covered with five coats of latex. (I finished my meal long before I finished the “painting” of my sex organs so I killed time by reading one of the B&D magazines that I had brought with me.) My entire crotch definitely felt weird. The thick sheath covering my prick felt sort of like a condom, but not quite. For one thing, it wasn’t as tight since a condom stretches as it is rolled on; and for another, the latex coating feels stiffer, but that is a consequence of the multiple coats. And of course, there was the added effect of the tight leather bindings as well as the material enclosing my walnuts and some of the surrounding skin of my crotch. That was truly a strange, sensual feeling.

When I was certain that the liquid latex was dry, I “cured” it with the 1000 Watt blow dryer conveniently supplied by the motel. I don’t know if that helped improve the qualities of the latex any, but it sure made things hot in my crotch! (Scientific fact: latex shrinks slightly as it is heated; it is the basis for a simple motor described in several books for children’s science fair projects.) I suspect that it also helped bond the layers together into a single sheet of material.

Polishing of my toenails and fingernails was the next order of the day. Naturally I used a very bold fire engine red. The blow dryer helped shorten the time so I could apply three coats. I smiled as I thought about the fact that I would leave on the toenail polish for the duration of my trip. The fingernail polish would easily survive for a day and a half. Then I added bright blue eye shadow (to match my eyes), sable mascara (I always hate that part even though it makes my long lashes look so much better), dark brown eyebrow pencil, a little bit of pink rouge, and finally deep red lip-gloss. I smiled in the mirror at my alter ego, ‘Linda.’ While not a supermodel, ‘she’ was, none-the-less, a lovely lady who probably wouldn’t have had a difficult time finding a date if I had ever chosen to go that far, which I never did.

Finally I began to dress up in the lingerie that I had selected for the evening’s games. I slipped on a pair of crimson, lace top, spandex stockings that I had originally purchased for my wife at a Victoria’s Secret store, but hadn’t given to her because of a nasty argument. (I love the way spandex stockings grip my legs, holding them within tight sheaths of shimmery material. It feels wonderful when they rub against each other, the satiny smooth surfaces sliding over each other. Just thinking about it makes me tingle inside.) Then I put on my high-heeled shoes: a pair of lovely black sandals from the catalog of a well-known department store.

My lined, black leather ankle and knee cuffs came next, followed by my nipple clamps (after massaging the little buds, of course, which felt delightful; the instant transition from erotic stimulation to painful stimulation is much more dramatic if the nipples are nice and hard, as any bondage aficionado knows), and then a red lace bra with large foam falsies to cover the clamps. With the bra pulled on tight, the foam falsies added to the pain in my nipples by squashing the clamps and twisting them sideways. I bit my lower lip and adjusted the bra carefully as needles of pain shot through my chest.

Then came one of the more difficult parts of my transformation and self-bondage. I put on my custom-made, steel-boned corset: a beautiful red satin garment that extended from just below my bust down to my hips. It always took me about an hour to complete the ties of the garment since my waist isn’t built like a woman’s! That time was no exception. After sixty minutes or so of wrangling with the silly laces, I had squeezed my shape into something that it wasn’t supposed to have. I know that they make corsets with laces in the front, but I love the smooth look of the satin busk in the front. When I was satisfied that I couldn't possibly pull the cords to reduce the gap at the back of the corset another millimeter, I tied it off with a nice big bow.

Then I connected the six satin garter straps to the tops of my stockings. The thigh high stockings would have stayed up without assistance, but I love the look of the garter straps. And besides, it pulls up and adds a little extra stress which makes it all feel a bit tighter. Another look in the mirror revealed a lovely, female with a butch haircut. I was tall, busty, narrow-waisted, and full hipped. I wouldn't have been a candidate to be a model for most women's magazines, but there are a few dedicated to "full-figured" women, and I might have been given some serious consideration for that kind of job. I smiled at myself; I was amazed at the transformation that could be accomplished with the right make-up and the proper body-shaping garments. My masculine persona was completely erased. Well, not completely I suppose. There was that funny black bulge in the front!

I was pleased with the change. Once again, I had become Linda; and I liked being Linda. I raised my refilled wine glass and saluted her, “Have fun, Linda, you are going to experience some lovely bondage tonight. And as always, I know that you will enjoy it thoroughly, you sweet, nasty slut!”

Having completed my sexual transformation, I prepared for my actual bondage. First I made some holes in the dowel rods using a punch drill that I brought with me. I screwed eyehooks into the ends and in the center of all the rods that I intended to use for my first experience. Then I placed all the padlocks on the floor with open hasps. Since I don’t have the luxury of hiding keys in the mailbox across the street or sealing them into blocks of wax (I make candles as a hobby and have combined it with my love of bondage) or trapping them in ice while I am on travel, I mixed the necessary keys together with lots of other keys that open padlocks that I left at home. I can’t tell the difference between them by looking or touching, so I just have to search through them the hard way until I find the ones that work on the locks that I do use.

And to make life really interesting, I divided the keys into several piles and placed them inside several small, identical bags in my briefcase. So I have to open the briefcase first, and then search through the bags until I find the right one. The first bag is on top of the materials in the brief case; the second bag is underneath a pile of paperwork; and the third is the most inaccessible: inside a zippered utility case which is inside the zippered file section. After stashing the keys, I placed my briefcase in the bathroom next to the toilet so I would have trouble getting to it. (The briefcase is also lockable, but I didn’t see the point of adding another level of delay.)

It was time to finish my rope work and lock myself up for a few hours of stimulation. I knelt down on the carpeted floor in the dining area, about as far from the bathroom as I could get. I used two of the dowel rods as separators: one between my ankles and the other between my knees. I locked those on with padlocks. I laughed quietly to myself as I wondered how long it would take to find the right keys for those locks. Next came the leather collar and another padlock. My chastity harness came next. It consists of a series of heavy cowhide straps that encircle my waist and several more that extend down to my crotch where they are joined together by a steel O-ring. A single strap extends upwards through my anal crack to the rear of the waist belt. Because of the latex coating on my sex organs, it was a lot harder than usual to get my organs through the metal ring, but I greased things up a bit with baby lotion and eventually managed to complete the task.

I then lubricated my asshole, inserting first one, then two, and then three fingers into the hole to grease it and loosen it up a bit. Afterwards I lubed the big, black butt plug that I was going to shove into the chute, to cork it. The plugs that I use all have a thick rubber pad at the base to prevent accidental insertion, because I learned the hard way that the softer plugs can still be pushed completely into your ass if you apply pressure the wrong way! (Fortunately, if it is soft enough to go all the way in, it is soft enough to come back out, but the contours are wrong so it hurts a lot more. Oh, yeah, there is also the sudden realization that you might have to go to an emergency room to have the damned thing removed. That tends to kill any erotic thrills one might have been experiencing up to that point. As I said, it was a PAINFUL lesson. But that is a different story!)

Despite the thorough coating of the large plug, it was still hard to push it into the hole that was designed for expulsion. I had to push, twist, and wiggle hard with one hand while pulling one butt cheek outwards with the other. The maximum diameter of the cone-shaped plug is considerably wider than the fattest turd that I've ever squeezed out, so forcing the plug into my asshole has always been a painful experience, ever since I graduated beyond the fat candles that I used as a kid. (My first ever, “true” butt plug was a sawn and carved wooden tool, that I handmade from a large block of oak. Its maximum diameter was only a little over two inches; I graduated to somewhat instruments long ago!) With a groan, I finally pushed the six inch long, fat cone past my sphincter.

There was a small amount of relief as the devilishly thick plug passed the resisting muscle, but the short throat at the base of the plug is more than an inch in diameter so my asshole was still being stretched abnormally open. And there was, of course, absolutely no way to make the hole smaller even though my sphincter was clenching involuntarily around the hard trunk of the plug. The rubber pine tree was firmly seated, and based on my prior experience with that plug, I knew I would have to pull it out to remove it later. Finally, I pulled the ass strap up tight, securing the plug uncomfortably in place, the broad, hard rubber plate at the end of the plug pushing my butt cheeks apart.

I completed the genital harness by locking on the shaped metal cage that fits a bit too closely around my cock and balls. It's an ingenious device, but was much too expensive! (It comes from a company in San Francisco that caters principally to the gay b&d crowd. They clearly understand the concept of cock and ball bondage better than anyone!) The stainless steel, welded wire mushroom cap that encloses my balls is designed to compress them into a round ball, so the extra bindings that I had added previously to separate them into distinct hemispheres caused some further pain that I hadn’t planned on. In addition, the custom fit was designed to cage my naked balls so the thick rubber coating further pressurized my nuts. The leather nooses that constricted the blood flow in my prick, and the thick coating of latex also made the short, tubular steel cock cage seem to be significantly too small for my swollen organ. In fact, if not for a liberal coating of lubricant, I am not sure that I would have been able to force my cock into the tube. It made me glad that this position would only last a few of hours. I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to endure the crushing pain, but that was just part of the fun.

The particular butt plug that I had used encased a built-in vibrator, so I turned it on and stuck the controller up under the straps in the middle of my back. The brand new Duracell batteries would definitely outlast my bondage adventure for the evening! A half dozen locks guaranteed that the entire thing would remain in place for the duration. It amazed and worried me as my cock seemed to expand even more as the internal stimulating vibrations began. I looked down and saw my ebony prick bulging painfully out of all the gaps between the steel rings and cross wires. From prior experience I knew that this combination of bondage and latex coating could keep me agonizingly stiff for hours without relief even when I used my most powerful vibrator.

To complete my feminine transformation, I added a blonde wig. I couldn’t tell how well it looked since the nearest mirror was on the other side of the room. I took my last drink of wine, and then gagged myself with a full ball gag head harness. The straps over the top of my head helped to keep the wig firmly in place, while the ball kept me from using my mouth for anything other than sucking. I added clip-on earrings to my ear lobes just because the pain would be a continuous annoyance. I even added a screw-on earring to the right outer nostril of my nose. I threaded down so it applied a very conspicuous pressure on the wall of my nostril, but it wasn’t really painful. I did have a suspicion that it would turn out to be annoying, especially since the sharply faceted synthetic ruby was sitting on my upper lip. As I discovered somewhat later, it became much more than a mere annoyance.

Then I slithered into a pair of full-length, crimson opera gloves. I love the way the stretch satin gloves snuggly encase my arms, from the tips of my fingers all the way up my arms. It is almost as erotic as the sensation of the tight spandex stockings! I added a couple of leather straps around my chest above and below my bra cups. It marginally enhanced the appearance, but that wasn’t the main reason for the straps. Next came wrist cuffs and elbow cuffs. A third dowel rod was then used to connect the back of my collar to the metal eye in the center of the ankle bar. The function of the bar was to lock me into a particular posture, one that would seriously limit my mobility.

I was almost done with the bondage, and I was already as horny as hell. My prick was throbbing in its rubber and steel prison, and my nipples were on fire. So the only thing that remained was for me to lock my arms up so I couldn’t do anything about it. I used a pair of chains to connect my elbow cuffs to the chest straps and one of the waist straps. The connection was rather loose, but it added to the sense of restriction. Then I finally linked my wrist cuffs together behind my back at the ankle bar. The short chain was selected for its restrictiveness, but it was long enough for me to use my hands together as I would need to do to get out of this mess. It was also long enough to allow me to access the briefcase next to the toilet, using one hand to grab the case while the other was pulled tight behind my back.

For a long time, I just stayed there enjoying the feeling of restriction as well as the erotic combination of pain and pleasure. The anal vibrator was stretching my asshole painfully, but the vibrations were an exquisite turn-on. My cock was so stiff I wanted to rub it against something to get some relief, but my enforced kneeling position completely prevented that. Even assuming that I could position myself to hump the table leg, that was impossible since the separator between my knees stuck out in front of my legs. And besides, there was that minor problem of the metal cage that seemed to be pressing against every nerve in my cock!

Nope, there was only one way to obtain relief and that was a long way off.

It took me practically no time at all to discover that moving forward on my knees in that position was going to be extremely difficult and time-consuming. Since my center of mass was actually a bit backwards of my knees, I was forced to use my toes to move forward. Unfortunately that was not very easy to do either because the stiletto-heeled sandals did not have pointed toes. The short berber carpet just didn’t give me much to dig into, and the slickness of the shoe soles was no help either. I could barely bend my toes in the sandals, but I managed a little bit, and that was how I propelled myself forward.

But that kind of strain is exhausting and frustrating. I was moving towards my destination at an agonizingly slow rate, much less than what I had originally guessed. And then I got a charley horse in my thigh. It hurt so bad I cried. I tried to relax by taking deep breaths, but that didn’t work. Remember that silly nose clip that I mentioned above? Well, it restricted my breathing somewhat so I just couldn’t take deep breaths. The extremely tight corset was certainly a hindrance in that regard, too. And I was right about the annoyance. It felt so weird to have that little jewel swinging around on my lip.

After another long period of slow locomotion, I stopped again to wriggle my toes – they were getting sore and cramped from the strain – and to catch my breath. I had only moved about ten feet and was right next to the bed farthest from the bathroom; I was angry with myself and frustrated. That was when I heard the knock on the door, followed by the soft voice that proclaimed, “Housekeeping.”

I froze and looked at the door. Oh, shit! was the only thing that came to mind as I saw the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign still hanging on the inside knob. I cringed in mental agony, briefly closed my eyes, bit down hard on the ball filling my jaw, then opened my eyes again and looked higher, terrified at what I knew that I would see there. I shuddered in horror and thought, Shit! And double Shit!! My brief glance confirmed my worst fears; I hadn’t set the internal security lock, either. Incredibly stupid! And I wasn’t exactly in a position to tell the lady in the hallway to go away. Hiding was also impossible since I couldn’t possibly duck or crawl under anything; although that is precisely what I wanted to do when I heard the key in the lock. I was still frozen in place, although I was hoping that a miracle would occur, and I would simply melt into a puddle of water, as the door swung open. A moment later I was staring up at a very lovely blonde in a blue housekeeper’s uniform, framed by the open door.

I’m not sure who was more stunned: her or me. I think it was me. She dropped the armful of towels and ran over to me. I expected her to call the desk for help immediately, but she surveyed the stuff on the bed, glanced around the otherwise empty room, and then looked back at me again. It apparently told her most of what she needed to know. The door, mercifully, had automatically swung shut behind her so I wasn’t on display for anyone but her.

I didn’t know what to say, which is just as well since I couldn’t have said anything with that ball gag in my mouth. And it’s fortunate that I was so well sheathed and plugged because I might otherwise have peed or shit on the floor! What she did next shocked the hell out of me. She squatted down, looked at my crotch, reached between my legs, and grabbed my caged cock. Then she said with a remarkably calm, soft voice, “Lovely. I haven’t seen this before.” Then she looked up into my face with two sparkling sapphire eyes, smiled, and continued, “But I have seen men like you before. Did someone else tie you up and leave you, or did you do this yourself?”

I cocked my head to one side, which wasn’t much of an answer. But then I couldn’t talk other than to grunt.

She asked me, “Do you want me to take out that nasty looking gag?” Before I could nod yes, she said, “No, I better not. Someone went to a lot of trouble to put you in this predicament, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with that. So just nod. Did someone else tie you up this way?”

The collar and rod restricted me a little bit, but I managed to shake my head a little bit. “So you did this to yourself?” I shook my head up and down. She smiled again. “You know, people like you are truly the greatest perk of this job. The first time I encountered someone like you, I was shocked. I just couldn’t understand how anyone would want to dress up as a member of the opposite sex or tie himself or herself up. That first guy peed all over himself when I shrieked. And of course, it didn’t help when half the floor came running to the door.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the door behind her. “Back in those days they didn’t swing shut by themselves so it was standing wide open so everyone could peek in and see the guy. By the way, he wasn’t as cute as you; and he didn’t have anything as lovely as this corset or this funny cock thing that you’re wearing.” She reached down and grabbed my wire-bound prick. She smiled as she twisted it from side to side; I grimaced and groaned as she did so. “I also like the rubber coating. You’ll have to tell me how you do that later.”

She looked back up at my face, and moved my head from side to side, just as she had moved my swollen prick. Of course, moving the head on my neck didn’t hurt as much as moving the head of my cock did! “You did a fair job with your make-up, too, although you could use a couple of pointers. The eye make-up is especially well done. The bright red lipstick is perfect for a slut like you, too. And I like your earrings: very garish, just like a whore would wear, although they generally don’t put one in their nose like that!” She giggled softly. Despite being generally terrified, I did like the sound of her voice: sexy and commanding.

As she talked, I calmed down a bit, but I was getting a bit scared. I wondered what she intended to do with me, now that she had found me. The fact that she referred to me as a “perk” was a strong indication that she was going to take advantage of the situation in some way, and I wasn’t sure that that was a good thing -- for me, anyway.

The housekeeper turned from me and looked back at the toys on the bed, but this was far more than a cursory glance. She was looking at the items carefully. She picked up a few of my toys and studied them. She seemed particularly interested in the prick bindings, and I had a very wide assortment of those. When she turned back to look at me, the lovely, young woman was smiling. “You like to be tied up.” It was a statement of fact, not a question, but I nodded anyway. “I like to tie men up. And then play with them. You look like you could be a particularly interesting plaything, but I have a couple more hours on my shift. I have to work until midnight. In the meantime, I don’t want you to get out of that charming get-up until I get back. So I’m going to make sure that you don’t go anywhere; I’ll just use that new package of rope that you have on the bed over there. I’ll come back later so we can play, …or something.”

She walked back to the door, went out briefly to fetch her cleaning cart, and then slipped the security latch into place. I silently watched as she grabbed the package of rope and cut it open using the scissors on the bed. She cut off a fairly long piece and wound it around my arms. After only a few moments of work, my arms were pinioned tightly together to the dowel rod behind my back. She cut another piece and slipped it through the ring at the end of my cock cage, pulled it down to the dowel between my knees and pulled hard. It doubled me over as much as possible given the rigid restriction of the dowel behind my back. I squealed loudly – well, as loud as the gag permitted.

She paused and patted my cheek. “It’s OK, darling, it will get much better for you in a minute. She looped the rope around the bar several times and tied it off. She stepped behind me and commented on the wine, pointing out that I shouldn’t have left the bottle out. I heard her shoes on the floor of the kitchenette, the sound of the refrigerator door being opened and the bottle clinking on the steel wire shelf.

When she returned from the dining area, she wasn’t empty-handed. She had fetched one of the kitchenette chairs and laid it down on its back in front of me. She slid it forward so the front chair legs just fit around the outside of my chest. The back legs, which were on the floor, slipped between my legs and under the spreader bar connected to my knee cuffs. She pushed it all the way forward so the underside of the seat was flush against my chest. Then she tied me to the chair, securing my ankles to the lower legs; my torso (with the aid of the chest straps that have convenient D-rings) and my collar were tied to the upper legs. Everything was then cinched tightly.

I was pretty much stuck in that position since it was physically impossible for me to move my legs anymore. And she added one final item that really astounded me. “Here’s a present to keep you thinking about me,” she said with a gleeful lilt in her voice. I tilted my head upwards as much as the ropes allowed, which was just enough to let me see her slide her panties down her slender legs. She then slipped her used undergarment over my head, filling my nostrils with her lovely sexual scent. The wet spot in the center of her surprisingly skimpy panties told me that she was as turned on by further securing me as I had been by originally tying myself up. As she left the room, she clicked off the light switch, leaving me enclosed in semi-darkness and surrounded with her feminine odor.

I started to struggle against my bonds the second the door clicked shut. But she was very good. My position was very effective. Because of the rod behind my back, the rope that she used to tie me to the chair also lifted my feet off the floor. I had absolutely no point of leverage, and I felt awkwardly off-balance. I knew that my locked cuffs were inescapable, but the few ropes that she had added made my situation significantly more uncomfortable and confining. The only thing that I could touch was the infernal spreader bar and the chain between my legs. There was nothing that I could do to either the hard wood beam or the steel chains that would allow me to either move or get even the least bit more comfortable. And most significantly, I couldn’t move at all. The chair had totally immobilized me!

It goes without saying that I was truly terrified. I had never found myself in a position like that before. There had been a couple of bad times during some of my prior self-bondage adventures that had led to brief panic spells, but I calmed down, figured out the solutions to the problems and escaped those predicaments, although with considerable effort. However, once I had calmed down in those prior instances, I knew that there was a solution to my blunder, and I always found it. For the first time ever, I knew that there was NO solution for me. I simply could not move, and the emergency knife that I left out on the far side of the bed was completely inaccessible. Even if I could somehow move that far, pushing the chair in front of me, the back of the chair would probably just push the knife out of reach. But that didn’t really matter, anyway, as I couldn’t reach the floor, and no amount of flexing would let me bend backwards enough to touch the floor.

I don’t know how much time I wasted thinking about my predicament, but eventually I realized that it was pointless to even contemplate escape from my bondage. I wasn’t going any place. The only comforting thought that I could muster was that I wouldn’t remain that way indefinitely. She said that she liked tying people up, so I was quite certain that she wouldn’t leave me like that. Until midnight! (I wasn’t entirely certain that I could endure that extensive, rigid bondage until then; despite all the time that I had used for my preparations, it couldn’t have been much later than 8, so that would mean at least 4 hours!) Or would she forget about me? Would she leave me for the morning maid? Oh, crap! That thought made me panic anew.

The issue that pulsed painfully through my mind, synchronized to the intensely agonizing pulses in my totally fettered cock, was a simple one. I had no idea who the lady was. While I knew that she worked for the hotel, that was not necessarily an advantage for me. If I accused her, she could simply deny seeing me tied up, who would dispute her? One look at my bed would reveal the truth of my nature to anyone. I doubt that anyone would give a second thought to the idea that I had NOT tied myself up in such a confining position. A simple suggestion from anyone that I simply took my game too far would probably be enough to deflect consideration of anyone in the hotel. In addition, LA is filled with professional dominatrices. The idea that I might have tried to “stiff” an imperious lady on her tip could lead to my current situation, too. After all, it had probably happened before. What male would admit that he had failed to make sufficient payment to the pro dom, so she tied him up, which is what he paid for, and then left him in bondage with no hope of escape because he didn’t pay for that? Yeah, I was screwed.

I struggled pointlessly against my bonds again. There had to be something that I could do. But there was nothing! My wrists and arms were tied in such a way that I couldn’t even touch the rope, let alone untie a knot. In fact, as best as I could tell, the final knots of my bondage were actually on the seat of the chair in front of me, while my arms were secured rigidly behind my back. My cock was throbbing more intensely and painfully than ever before. Despite my panic, my prick was a pounding piece of sizzling sausage. I keep feel every single pulse of blood straining to move through my swollen dick. I knew that I was on the edge of a climax, but I knew that I would not get even the slightest bit closer because my organ was swollen so tightly in its cage that my piss-tube was self-sealed by internal pressure. That was what I wanted when I bound myself that way, but the pressure was so much more intense than I ever imagined. And that extra pressure was due to the unnatural downward pull caused by my Mistress’ clever cock fetter. Did I just call her ‘my Mistress?’ I asked myself with a start. That’s scary, I don’t even know her name!

But that was only part of it. The pain in balls was incredible. That, too, was primarily my own doing, but by pulling them back between my legs, the lovely maid had increased the tension in a way that I hadn’t even thought of. It was intolerable, and yet, I was enduring it. I was very much alive, and my sex organs were more alive than ever before in all of my years of self-bondage. I wriggled again to deliberately pull on my organs. It was a delicious pain, but there was absolutely no way I was going to make myself cum that way, there simply wasn’t enough difference in pressure and stimulation! However, there was an effect that I hadn’t considered. As I twisted, it pulled on my chest straps, which twisted my falsies, in turn, twisting my nipple clamps. That was a reminder that I hadn’t even considered, and it was a very painful one.

My thoughts then returned to my tormentress. She had stated very clearly that she enjoyed tying men up, and she had done a very credible job of rendering me helpless and totally vulnerable. Well, OK, I was totally defenseless before she walked through the door! It was equally clear that I was completely at her mercy. I had no idea when she would return nor did I have any sane thoughts about what she might do to me when she came back. Was she a true sadist? Would she spank me using my own my belts? Did she have a whip in her handbag? Obviously I was not the first person that she had met with my tastes. Would she make me do something that I found completely offensive? Would she make me really suffer? Or would she simply play with me and bind me in a new way. I didn’t think for a minute that she would simply release me. Then I wondered if she would pick up a camera in the hotel shop or across the street in the drugstore that I knew was there from my previous trips, take pictures of me to blackmail me. Not surprisingly, I didn’t consider that there might actually be a good side to all of this. But my situation didn’t lend itself to much more than worry. While my head was locked on the negative, my groin was clearly concentrating on the positive; I hadn’t been that horny since my wedding day!

Well, there was also the endless pain in my knees from kneeling in one position for so long. And there was, of course, the unbelievable urge to pop down below. It was maddening to be so close. That damn vibrator was driving me crazy! I knew that I had been tied up for much longer than I had originally contemplated, but I had no idea how much longer. There was a clock on the nightstand next to the bed, but the panties on my head kept me from looking at it. (To make matters worse, that damn little nose ruby had caught on the elastic of the housekeeper’s pale blue panties, which hindered my breathing a bit; I was essentially restricted to breathing only through my left nostril!) And my collar and the ropes attached to it wouldn’t even allow me to shake my head enough to move the panties. The only thing that I knew for sure was that it was well after ten p.m. as that was the closing time for the pool; and I knew from my prior visits to the place that the pool lights were dimmed somewhere between 15 minutes and half-an-hour after closing. Because the blonde binder had turned off the room lights when she departed, the primary illumination in my room was from the outdoor pool lights, so I knew when they were turned off, and that was a VERY long time ago.

When at last I heard the key in the door lock an eternity later, I was desperate for relief. Thank heavens, she’s come back, I thought. I was getting worried that she wouldn’t! I laughed silently as I considered my accomplishment, even though I didn’t really have much control over it. Well, that’s pretty amazing. Somehow I did survive until midnight. I wouldn’t have imagined that it was possible. It didn’t occur to me that some other member of the motel staff could be intruding upon my privacy. I suppose that I didn’t really care. I truly wanted to be released from my bondage, and fully anticipated that the cleaning lady would do that, even though there was no rational reason for me to have such an expectation.

Fortunately for me, it was the beautiful blonde returning to continue my torment, although I didn’t immediately realize that or even consider it at the moment. The anal vibrator was driving me mad, and the position that she twisted me into was the most uncomfortable that I had ever experienced. It is amazing how magical that combination can be for a true bondage lover. My erection, squashed though it was, seemed harder than any that I’d ever had before. I was so desperate to erupt that I would have done anything for my bondage queen for a tiny bit of stimulation to bring me over the precipice! Besides having a huge need to climax, I also had to pee. My bladder was at the bursting point. I was glad that I hadn’t had more to drink on the plane and hadn’t had more of the wine!

“Did you miss me, darling?” she asked sweetly. “Umm, based on that pulsing of that fat pecker, I’d guess that you did!”

Relieved that it was indeed my bondage benefactor, I paused to think about my condition. She pointed out the state of my prick, but I already knew how it felt. So I reflected on the rest of my body. My waist felt as though it were in a vise; in fact, it was in a boned satin one. My back ached because of my strained position, and I couldn’t wait until she released me from that awful, off-balance position. My legs were cramped and suffered from numerous random muscle spasms that only made things less tolerable, but I couldn’t flex anything other than my toes, and that was highly marginal! In addition, my arms ached from their restrictive confinement; my fingers were numb and useless. I knew that they had melted into a single appendage, and I would never again have two arms. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure that I would ever see them in front of my body again as they had been merged together behind my back. Well, I knew that was an exaggeration, and my release was immediately imminent. That made me curl my lips in a weak smile around the big ball that filled my mouth. But the blue-eyed vamp had ideas other than releasing me.

Based on the squeaky sound I heard, I knew that she plopped something down on the bed. She promptly walked over to me and tugged the panties off my head. The ruby that was caught on the leg band was yanked up with her panties, pulling painfully up and out on my nose. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she bubbled happily, “but I had to help wash some laundry because the main laundry lady is out sick. I really didn’t expect it to take that long, but I can see that you waited for me, just as I hoped that you would.” Her revelation that she was later than she expected to be was a bit of a shock. I had lasted – and suffered – for longer than I had anticipated. I didn’t think that I was worse off for it. If anything, it was something to treasure. And a personal record for me. I had never spent more than four hours in bondage before.

“Now I want you to watch me very carefully, my pet,” she instructed as she stood in front of me. With slow deliberation, she began to remove her clothes, dropping each garment in front of the chair. (I wonder if she thought about the fact that I couldn’t lift my head very high because of the restricting collar and rope bondage. It prevented me from seeing anything above her waist.) After the dress slipped down her body onto the floor in front of me, the view she provided was delightful as she hadn’t replaced her panties with another pair, so I got a rather direct view of her glistening pussy and gorgeous legs. After she performed a wickedly slow strip tease, gyrating erotically in front of me, which only made me more excited, she went to the kitchenette. (Her lovely show had stimulated my libido, actually increasing my sexual longing to a more intense level, which resulted in a very natural, rather undesirable response. Remarkably, I discovered that it was possible for my cock to actually hurt worse than it already was, as even more blood flowed into my engorged organ. I groaned from the pain as my prick swelled even more in its stainless steel cage.)

As I listened to the sounds in the kitchenette, I created a mental image of the naked housekeeper as she poured herself a drink of wine. It was a rather enjoyable image, actually. She was a lovely lady, and even though I hadn’t been able to see all of her unclothed charms because of my restricting fetters, my brain was not at all restricted so I had no trouble at all in fashioning a very pleasant picture of my new-found Mistress. A moment later the attractive lady came back and sat down in front of me on the bed, straddling the corner with her open legs, giving me an unhindered view of her blonde-thatched pussy; the ruby labia were glistening with moisture so I knew that she was already excited about the prospect of using me. (It didn’t occur to me until much later that I should have been surprised by the fact that she was wearing stockings and a garter belt rather than pantyhose, but of course as I got to know her, that was an expectation rather than a surprise.) The thought that she had clearly been thinking about using me while handling her chores was rather exciting. For the first time in quite a few hours, I was actually VERY happy about something, and that was a good change.

The sexy blonde took a couple of small sips of wine and stared quietly at me for a few minutes. Finally, she broke the silence. “What am I going to do with you?” she began rhetorically. She leaned forward, propping her left arm on her left thigh, holding a plastic glass filled with red wine in the other. “I could just leave you this way for the morning crew, but they aren’t as liberal as I am. In fact, Elizabeth Marie, who would probably be the one to find you, is an incredible prude and would probably have you arrested even though you haven’t technically committed any crime.” She paused to giggle and take another sip of wine. “No. That won’t do. I really like to tie up men, and they usually appreciate my talents.

“I’m not a professional dominatrix, and I don’t think that you were planning to visit one. Most self-tied men seem to prefer the solitude, although they all fantasize about being truly helpless. And I suspect that your plans only included tying yourself up.” She paused for another sip. With a laugh she continued, “It’s rather obvious that you were already well-started on that project when I interrupted your little game. Based on the warehouse load of equipment that you have here on the bed, I would have to guess that you planned to do lots more.” She leaned up again and looked over her shoulder at my vast array of toys. “Are you going to be here the whole week?” She stopped to wait for my answer. It took me a moment to realize that she was asking me a question as the vibrator was driving me wild with lust, and her nearly-naked display on the bed added a further distraction. Finally I nodded my head yes. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Now it is entirely possible that you will turn down my proposal, so I plan to take advantage of your helpless situation today before I make it. That way I will get to have at least a little bit of fun with you if we have to part ways.” I was curious about both her “proposal” and “plan,” and thought about it briefly as I watched her reach into a white canvas bag on the bed next to her. (Obviously that had been the source of the thud that I had heard earlier, right after she came in.) I shrieked into my muzzle when I saw her pull out a small camera. I shook my head as vigorously as I could manage to let her know that that was totally unacceptable, but there wasn’t much I could do as she took pictures of me from every possible angle. I feared that I was certainly recognizable in a few of them.

Finally, she bent down and started to untie some of her knots. I was immensely relieved. The thought of being set free of my painful, constricting bondage caused me to shiver in excitement. However, the blonde only partially released me. She took off the ropes that she had used to secure me to the chair, and removed my gag harness. When she removed the cord that connected my chastity harness to the knee brace, I popped up like a spring. My back was in agony from the bent-over posture, but the relief from that cramped position was immediate and heaven-sent. “Oh, God, thank you,” I whispered through parched lips.

She instantly grabbed a hand full of my hair and pulled my head up so I could look straight into her face. “Don’t you DARE speak again without permission, my pet!” she growled softly at me. “I promise that you will TRULY regret it if you violate that order.”

Instead of unfastening any of my other bonds, she pulled me by the collar over to the edge of the bed where she sat down again; then using both hands, she pulled my face up into her crotch and gave me first opportunity to taste her sweet, golden-haired pussy. (I’d already had more than ample time to learn about the smell!) “Ow!” she shrieked. I was confused; I hadn’t even started to nibble her yet. She pushed my head back and roughly tore the earring off of my nose, which really hurt a lot. “Damn earring!” she grumbled. “It looks cute, but it’s definitely an inappropriate accessory for cunt-lapping!” I almost laughed but fortunately refrained. I certainly didn’t want to hurt her, but her vulgar exclamation just struck me as funny. However, I don’t think that the cleaning lady would have seen the humor in the situation as I did. “Now use your tongue and make my pussy lips feel better to make up for that unfortunate incident, my little pet. I suspect that you know how.” At that, she pulled my head back into the warm cradle of her crotch.

Even though I was in a very awkward position, this desperately horny, obsequious slut sucked, licked, and nibbled her clit and labia for a much longer time than I ever did for my wife. Of course, the fact that my new-found Mistress was holding onto my collar and the back of my head all the time enforced the issue. Each of her half-dozen climaxes almost brought me over the edge. God, she tastes great! I mused the first time she came in my mouth. I could get used to this. Too bad my wife doesn’t like me eating her pussy. Yes, it was a negative thought, but it passed quickly as she didn’t give me an opportunity to concentrate on anything other than licking, sucking, nibbling, and sucking again on the pussy that was pressed tightly against my face. I was so incredibly close to cumming myself, just from eating her out; I had never been in a more erotic situation in my life. Added to that was the unending stimulation of the vibrator plugging my stretched ass, and the circumstances were almost perfect for mind-blowing eruptions. Almost. The pain in my arms and ass, plus the wickedly agonizing confinement of my prick were just enough to keep me from reaching nirvana. It was truly infuriating frustration!

Then she changed her position, lying down on the bed, so I could also suckle and worship her hot, soft breasts. My wife has nice breasts, but they are an odd shape and too sensitive. It was hard for me to suck them for very long without causing her serious pain. (Well, at least that is what she always told me.) Vickie (not her real name, of course), on the other hand, seemed insatiable. She even held my head in place with one hand, to keep me there, and to guide me to the other breast from time-to-time. While I tongued and gently bit and hungrily sucked on her boobs, she used her own fingers of her other hand to play with her pussy. I don’t know how many more climaxes she had because she didn’t tell me, and I wasn’t really paying attention.

Her breasts and nipples were positively delicious, and I was enjoying every second of it, almost as much as she was. Her endless stream of “mmm!” and “ahh!” and “oh yes!” let me know that I was doing something that was truly appreciated. As I look back on it, I realize now that some of her moans and exclamations of bliss were due at least partially to her own self-gratifying actions, but I am confident that I was doing the right thing with my lips, tongue and teeth. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have kept me pressed so tightly against her chest for so long.

She rearranged herself on the bed one more time, draping her legs over my shoulders, which reminded me very much of how much they hurt because of the stress of my prolonged bondage. She folded her legs behind my back to pull me forward, and my face was once again nuzzled in the warm darkness between her legs. Three more times, while lying down with my head locked between her hot thighs, Vickie’s body convulsed with powerful orgasms and thick eruptions of sweet nectar. Even though my head was still trapped between her legs, I paused after being sprayed with her love juice to let her enjoy the sensations flooding through her. I could feel the quakes in her thigh muscles as she spasmed with pleasure. It made me happy that I could make her feel so good. However, I did take advantage of her orgasmic spasms to catch my breath. Of course, I was inhaling air that was heavily scented with her sex; it was incredibly intoxicating.

Since my head was still ensnared between her legs, I simply resumed my task after she had calmed down somewhat and when her energetic moans had decayed into heavy breathing. She didn’t even have to prompt me to start licking and sucking again; I simply wanted to do it for her. Finally, after the third explosion, she shrieked, “AAAAHHH!” and then sighed, “Oh, God! That was SOOO good!” It was the first time that she had said anything coherent since I started kissing her love lips and nibbling her clit. Once again I waited until her legs had stopped quivering around my ears, although it seemed to take considerably longer than the other times. When I touched my lips to her vaginal lips to start again, she lifted her feet up onto my shoulders and pushed me away, saying softly, “No, I think that I’ve had enough for awhile. I..I don’t think that I could survive another climax like that! Oh, wow! That was lovely. Mmm. Go..go fuck the table leg.” Then she scooted herself up on the bed, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes. From the sound of her slow, relaxed breathing I could tell that she was asleep in mere minutes.

I smiled. The pleasure of the evening wasn’t all hers alone; somehow I got something out of it, too. I suspect that a number of factors contributed to my ecstasy. For one thing, I was more inescapably bound than I had ever been; the ways that Vickie cleverly supplemented my own knots and locks and controlled the duration and direction of the encounter made the bondage truly complete; that was deliriously exciting for me. I had no idea that I was capable of giving so much pleasure to someone. (Certainly, my wife had never experienced that kind of sexual euphoria. If she had, she never let me know the good news. One climax was her normal maximum. Vickie, on the other hand, was an insatiable sexual beast and had a ravenous appetite for orgasms. As far as I could tell, she had had more than a dozen climaxes without even being fucked once!)

For a very long time, I just knelt there on the floor and looked at her. Vickie was truly beautiful. I wondered if she was an aspiring actress, working as a housekeeper to pay the bills. After all, there are hundreds, thousands of gorgeous women in LA and Hollywood, lusting for a chance to make it big in film or on TV. But until that big opportunity they had to live somehow. And this was a woman who clearly understood the meaning of the word ‘lust!’

Her sweet, oval face seemed to glow with contentment as she slept: her wet, pink lips were curled upwards in a soft smile, emphasized all the more by a deep dimple in her right cheek, while her cheeks were slightly flushed with a lighter shade of pink; the closed lids of her eyes were still painted a lovely shade of brown while her long eyelashes and thin eyebrows were deep sable. The long, straight, light tresses of her hair were splayed out on the white pillow. Because of the minimal contrast, her hair seemed to simply merge with the pillow as it fanned out.

I looked down her voluptuous body and saw that her thick nipples were still erect, sticking out from the heart of her round areoles like big pushbuttons, daring to be touched, and her large, full breasts rose and fell rhythmically as she breathed slowly in and out; they still glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration as did the rest of her chest and body. The thought occurred to me that I could shuffle over to her and kiss her soft nipples again, or perhaps lick her belly which was adorned by a pair of rose tattoos on either side of her belly button. Cute.

Down below, her swollen mons veneris gleamed with her love dew and saliva. I was amused to note that her pubic hair appeared to have been carefully trimmed; the bush of short, gold curls was shaped like a heart. It was hard to believe that someone could have that kind of sweet, romantic flare and such a devious sense of kink. Interesting combination. Watching her sleep was deliciously exciting for me. She was so delectably posed: one leg out straight, the other crooked and bent sideways to expose her sex. One arm was stretched out directly sideways while the other was bent and lying on the pillow next to her head. I wished that I could take a picture of her, to freeze that moment in time.

Picture? That reminded me of the camera, and that brought me back to reality. So while she slept blissfully, I returned to the task that I had started many hours earlier, before she entered my world so unexpectedly: squirming my way to the bathroom to release myself.

As I was already exhausted from many hours of bondage – far more than I had ever experienced before – as well as several intense hours of oral adoration of Vickie, the trip to the bathroom was substantially more difficult than I would ever have imagined, and certainly more difficult than I expected. My knees were on fire from bearing my weight for so long and from brushing through the rough cut carpet fibers. But far worse was the pain in my toes; I had never worn high heeled shoes for so long before; consequently my toes were cramped and achy. Accordingly, it was immensely hard to thrust myself forward, but I managed. Eventually I reached the bathroom.

I am not stupid -- a bit slow sometimes, but not stupid. Because I had been concentrating on moving forward, I hadn’t given any thought to the difficulties that awaited me at the end of my trip. There were, however, several serious complications that I needed to address. The first issue was one that hadn’t been in my thoughts at all. Being in the bathroom reminded me of a very significant imperative: I really, REALLY had to pee! The toilet seat was down which presented a serious problem for me with my arms fettered as they were. The sink wasn’t exactly an option: the cock cage made that alternative completely unviable. The fact that I couldn’t stand up didn’t even enter my mind at that point. I certainly didn’t want to piss on the floor, but I had a feeling that that was an option that I might have to seriously consider if all else failed. However, I had a gut feeling that if I really worked at it, I would be able to lift the seat, obviating the need for that remaining option.

With some effort, I turned sideways. As I said, sometimes I am a bit slow. It was only when I realized that the only thing that I could touch with my fingers was the bottom of the toilet bowl that I understood that I actually was being stupid as well as slow. There was no way for me to use my hands to raise the lid on the toilet since I couldn’t even raise my hands to the height of the lid! Was there an alternative? I knelt there thinking about the problem for several long minutes. Finally, it occurred to me that I might be able to lift the lid with my head and mouth. The idea of grabbing the edge of the toilet seat with my mouth was not especially appealing, but I didn’t seem to have any other option. So I tried to lean forward. Ha-ha! I tried to lean forward, but I couldn’t! The act was completely forbidden by my intricate arm bondage. I was stuck until I could get out of my belts and ropes.

Subsequently, I turned and smiled at the briefcase sitting in the space between the toilet and the bathtub, only a foot away. It was just sitting there waiting for me. And that was when I suddenly realized that it might as well have sitting on the moon! My smile vanished instantly, and I angrily proclaimed, “Oh, shit!”

I turned around, which was no small feat on the slick tile, and tried to move the case with my feet. I even tried to lean backwards and grab it with my hands, but it was hopeless. I knew that it would be, but I had to try. Because of my peculiar position, I was totally unable to remove my briefcase from its corner to open it. There was simply nothing that I could do. Under my breath, I cursed, “Damn, damn, damn!” Vickie’s relatively simple addition to my bondage had rendered my arms useless and made it impossible for me to access the briefcase that I had so cleverly stashed in the bathroom. There was simply no way for me to access my case to retrieve the keys that I needed for escape.

I was quite certain that she understood very well the consequences of the arm strictures which she applied even though she didn’t know where I had left my means to escape. She had seen how loosely my arms were fettered, and how easily I could move my hands. It was true that they were hobbled a bit, but I could still use them. So she eliminated that option, and I had been so preoccupied with everything else that she did that I simply didn’t not consider the consequences of her rope tie. Even after she had released me from the most incapacitating part of my bondage, I was still helpless; I just didn’t realize it until the obvious was staring me in the face. So there was nothing that I could do to alleviate the pain of my bindings, nor could I escape the pressure that was still continuing to build in my bladder.

After a while, I suddenly started to laugh out loud, but not loud enough to wake the sleeping beauty in the next room. As I contemplated my hopeless situation, I suddenly understood that my problem was much more severe than simply being unable to access the briefcase. I moved my fingers around a bit and confirmed what I suspected. The extensive rope work on my arms made it impossible to even touch the locks on my wrists. But even if I had been able to unlock my wrists, I would have gained nothing. My arms were so securely bound to the back pole that escape would still have been impossible for me. I’m not a Houdini, but even if I were, it probably wouldn’t have made any difference as no knots were within reach of my fingers. I hadn’t planned for the extra ropes that Vickie applied, and there was nothing that I could do about it except endure it until she decided that she wanted to release me. And she wouldn’t even think about that until after she woke up, which would probably not be for quite a while. She had had a long string of body-shaking climaxes, including several powerful ones that made her quake violently. No doubt she was totally exhausted when she fell asleep on the bed, and would remain that way until her body recovered its spent energy.

For several LONG hours I remained kneeling just outside the bathroom door. I could have stayed where I was in the bathroom, but the ceramic tiles were too hard on my knees, so I turned around and scooted slowly out of the room. Leaving the room was more difficult than entering it. Turning around was actually the easy part. Getting traction on the slick tiles, on the other hand, was quite a bit harder to manage for two reasons. First, the pain in my toes was getting worse by the minute. And second, the tile was wet from my sweat, which made it considerably more slippery than the dry tile I crossed on the way in. I was, after all, still wearing high-heeled shoes with slippery leather soles. And when I reached the door sill, life got even more complicated. Traversing the thin metal bar that protected the edge of the hallway carpet where it abutted the bathroom flooring was a very painful experience; moving up and over the rough metal strip caused me to abrade a few layers of epidermis off of the bent joints that were already suffering from hours of punishment, including the long slide over the rough bedroom carpet as well as the slide down that very same strip when I entered the bathroom in the first place. Muttering “Damn, damn, damn,” under my breath did nothing to alleviate my anger, aggravation and pain.

I considered going back to Vickie’s bedside, but decided against it for lack of energy. I was so desperate for relief that I cried silently for a while. Never before had I felt so exhausted, frustrated, and horny. I ached everywhere, but the agony between my legs took precedence over everything else. My need for a climax was truly overwhelming, so I actually tried to take her advice, in a way. Before she had fallen asleep, she had ordered me to “fuck the table leg,” but that was quite impossible. The kitchenette table was a pedestal table so the single leg was completely inaccessible, but I thought that the door frame seemed to be a reasonable substitute. It wasn’t. As a consequence of the backwards tilt and arch of my body due to my arm bondage as well as the dowel connecting my collar to the spreader bar, I couldn’t get any leverage. And I’m not sure that it would have made any difference.

The few times that I successfully, but gently rapped my cock cage against the door frame made some noise, but I didn’t feel a thing! It was hopeless. That was when it also occurred to me that I never would have been able to go pee even if I had managed to unshackle my legs and arms. With my arms bound behind my back, I would not have been able to remove that damned chastity belt! And if I couldn’t remove the belt, then urination was nothing but an impossible dream. It wasn’t very long after that that I started to cry again. It had already been such an agonizingly long night, and I was positive that it was going to be a lot longer before my sleeping Mistress awoke from her deep slumber.

I was so wrapped up in my own frustrating situation that I didn’t hear her. When my tormentress touched my shoulders from behind me, it surprised the wits out of me. I shrieked, but I don’t think that I was loud enough to wake up my neighbors in the adjacent motel rooms. In addition, the metal c&b harness did a perfect job at keeping me from peeing on myself in terror.

“That was very nice, my pet,” she whispered into my ear. She was leaning down behind me, and her large, soft breasts were pressed against my back. “You certainly do know how to use that tongue of yours. The only time I’ve been eaten out better was by some of my Sapphic friends.” She paused to let that sink in. “I think that I know what you’re thinking. No, I am not a lesbian, but I do like to swing both ways occasionally. It’s a nice change of pace.”

She reached around in front and grabbed my stiff package. “Hmm, I’ve never seen a man stay hard for ten hours before,” she stated flatly.

Oh shit! It’s been ten hours! I thought in response. No wonder I feel so awful. My bladder must be inflated to the size of a football.

“Now we need to get you back to the bedroom to bind you up in a different way,” she said. I sighed in exasperation. She glanced at the bathroom “Oh dear, I just thought of something!” she exclaimed suddenly. “I’ll bet you’ve gotta take a leak. You haven’t had that opportunity all night. And that’s why you were over here instead of waiting by the bed for me to wake up. You poor thing, I’d bet your tiny little pud is just dying for relief right now.”

She stood up and moved in front of me. She tapped my prick binder with her toe and asked, “Can you take a pee with that thing on?” I almost said ‘no,’ but then I remembered her order about not talking, so instead, I simply shook my head. “Damn, I’d love to keep you in that thing all week, but we do have to think practically, don’t we?” she asked rhetorically.

“Where are the keys?” I nodded towards the bathroom behind her. She went into the room and looked around. “Where…?” she began, but then she caught sight of the briefcase next to the toilet. She picked it up and came back to me. “In here?” Again I nodded. She took the briefcase back into the bedroom and dropped it on the bed. Then she opened it up and saw the three plastic bags of keys. “Oh, crap, you didn’t! Damn, you are a glutton for punishment.”

She knelt down behind me and began trying keys in the padlock connecting the neck brace to the center of the spreader bar. “I suppose this is one way to keep yourself in bondage for an indefinite period. But I am going to make you pay for making me work this hard.” I smiled hopefully at the wonderful threat.

After an agonizingly long time – for me, anyway – Vickie found the keys to the lock that connected my neck brace to the leg spreader and to the locks that held my knee spreader bar in place. I shivered with delight when I heard the third ‘click.’ I was finally able to stand up, sort of. I almost collapsed as soon as Vickie helped me to my feet because my knees were so sore and weak from hours of kneeling. My knees kept buckling, but she was finally able to guide me into the bathroom and plopped me down on the edge of the bathtub. Yes, my legs were still bent, and that hurt, but for the first time in an eternity, they weren’t supporting the weight of my body! When she walked out of the room, I wondered what Vickie was planning do to me. It scared me to think what she might select off of the bed to abuse me next.

When she returned, I was a bit relieved. She was holding a penis gag strap in one hand, but then I saw that in her other hand, she held a large knife. My first thought was that she was going to cut off the rope, but then I noticed that she was looking a bit lower. I panicked. I didn’t want her to cut my belt! It was painful and wicked, but that was why I bought it. I didn’t want her cutting it off just because she’d run out patience searching for the right key! It was too damned expensive for me to replace!

My mouth was open to protest when she announced, “Well, I think that I can cut a small hole in the end of that rubber coating on your prick. If I do that, can you take a pee?”

Extremely grateful, I immediately replied in a hoarse whisper, “Oh, yes, thank you, Mistress! It will be tough, but I’m sure that I can manage!” Actually, I wasn’t entirely sure that I could manage, because only once before had I managed the task while wearing the cage. But I was fairly certain that there was enough pressure in my bladder to put out a forest fire!

“I am glad that you have enough intelligence to refer to me as ‘Mistress,’ but I didn’t give you permission to speak,” she stated calmly. Then she added somewhat more harshly, “I can see that I’m going to have to teach you proper manners before we handle the more mundane task of letting you take a pee.”

She turned briefly away from me to put the knife down on the bathroom counter. I looked at her naked backside and was delighted. She was still wearing the stockings, but was no longer wearing the shoes. I guessed that they fell off while she was sleeping. I also glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was stunning and incredibly well shaped. I supposed that working as a housekeeper kept her quite fit as she was constantly on the move. Her uniform, which was probably still lying on the floor in the main room of the suite, had done a fair job of concealing her sensual curves.

Then she turned back to me and firmly ordered, “Open up!” I hated that gag. The diameter of the penis plug was almost as large in as the ball of my ball gag harness, but it was also three inches long so it stuck deeply into my mouth, and I had to concentrate to avoid gagging on it. It always made me wonder how women could ‘deep throat’ a guy with a prick that was several times longer than my penis gag. But despite hating the toy, I kept it around for those occasions when I wanted to seriously humiliate myself. It seemed to be the perfect object for the assignment.

Oh, yeah, two other points to note about that gag: 1) there was a half-inch diameter hole that ran down the length of it (once, many years ago, I connected an enema bag filled with two days worth of piss to it just to torture myself; the hose was clamped so it slowly trickled into my mouth); and 2) there are snaps on the outside of the gag to allow for the connection of either a cork to seal the hole or an eight inch long, realistic, external dildo. She didn’t have either accessory attached, and I wondered if she saw them on the bed. Less than one minute later, I was muzzled again. I also heard the ominous ‘snick’ of a padlock clicking shut so I understood that I was silenced for more than just a few moments.

With Vickie’s help, I was able to stand in front of the toilet; I successfully accomplished my much needed task squirting through the hole that she cut in the tip of my rubber sheath, but I did pee on myself, probably spraying as much on myself as I got into the toilet bowl – and I shot a fountain into the toilet. The front of my corset was wet, as were my legs. When I finally stopped peeing, which took a rather long time as the stream that came out of my caged cock was impeded considerably by the compression of the urethra, she sat me down on the edge of the tub again, dripping and stinking.

“Well, it looks like you did a rather pathetic job of relieving yourself, my darling slut,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I think that I’m going to have to clean you up a bit before we play any more.” She lifted my leg spreader, hoisting my legs. She removed my shoes and then swung me around, and dropped my legs with a loud, metallic thud into the bathtub. Then she grabbed the back of my chastity belt and yanked upwards, instantly dragging me to my feet. She turned on the bathwater, which was freezing cold on my feet, and then pulled down the removable shower massage head. Without bothering to adjust the temperature to a warm setting, she flipped the lever to redirect the water to the showerhead and sprayed icicles into my groin. For the first time since I had met her, I wanted to kick her or hit her. Geeze that was awful. But the wooden bar was still pushing my legs far apart so I couldn’t possibly either kick her or protect my loins from the frigid shower! She had chosen the right bit for the job, too, as I really wanted to scream. Instead, only a shrill squeak emanated from my throat.

The icy blast on my legs, however, was worse. I was still wearing my stockings, which had numerous runs from my efforts on the carpet, but they provided no protection at all. Fortunately, the shower was mercifully short. She helped me to step out of the tub, and patted my legs partially dry. Then she searched through the pile of keys and located the ones that worked the locks on my ankle cuffs. She also found the keys for the chastity belt. However, she undid those locks only very briefly; they were unshackled, not to remove my belt, but rather for her to tighten each strap by at least one more notch. I would have protested if possible, but of course, it wasn’t feasible. She didn’t release my arms or remove my collar. She had also found the reins to my horse bit gag on the bed, and clipped them to the metal rings on the sides of my penis gag strap, and then tossed the loose end of the reins over the shower curtain rod and pulled it tight, forcing my head into an uncomfortable tilted position.

While I was fettered to the bar, she removed my stockings, observing, “Mmm, these were obviously expensive stockings, my pet, but I’m afraid that they’re badly torn.” She wrapped one of the wet stockings around my head, looping it many times to cover my eyes. Even though it was taut around my head, I could still see by peering down, but it was rather restrictive. After toweling my legs dry, she released me from the curtain bar and escorted me back to the bedroom area.

She grabbed a hank of rope and looped it around my wrists several times. Then she pulled the two ends of the rope through my crotch, one on either side of my organs, and pulled the rope tight before tying the ends to a D-ring on the front of my chastity belt. It was rather tight, and I tried to wiggle to relieve the strain on my shoulders, but she just cinched the rope around my cock and balls. That successfully increased the strain on my shoulders, exactly the opposite of what I was trying to achieve. In addition, it added even more stress in my crotch, and that area was already at the point where I thought that the leather straps were going to cut me in two! The free ends of the soft nylon cord were long enough for her to loop them back around my waist and tie them back to my wrists, immobilizing them completely.

She placed me down on the bed and bound my ankles to the opposite corners at the foot. I was very painfully stretched open! Lying on my arms was more than just a little bit uncomfortable, too. That was when I discovered that she had, indeed, found the snap-on dildo. “I like this toy,” she told me as the metal buttons snapped together. “It is amazing how many of your toys are designed for someone else’s pleasure, rather than yours. Well, far be it for me to ignore such options!” She laughed, climbed up onto the bed, straddled my head, facing towards my feet, and promptly sat down on my face.

As the devious blonde bounced up and down on my face, controlling her own stimulation, she also controlled the sensations that I experienced in a variety of inventive ways. She stuck needles through the bars of my cock cage, poking right through the rubber shield. It was an oddly painful and yet stimulating experience. She pulled up my bra and gave my tits a very thorough introduction to levels of pain that were considerably higher than anything that I had ever administered to myself. “Umm, I like these,” she said when she located the nipple clamps that were hidden beneath my bra and falsies. Her twists and pulls woke up the buds that had been numb for quite a few hours. It was a shocking reminder of how much they could both hurt and stimulate my libido at the same time. When she was gentle, it felt so very good, but when she twisted the clamps by 90 degrees, my head bolted upwards off the bed, pounding her pussy. Vickie really liked that, so she did it quite a bit more. She even played with my vibrator (which she had only recently discovered while giving me a cleaning), turning it off completely, and then suddenly switching it back on.

Apparently she had learned those tricks from some of the other men that she had encountered over the years working as a housekeeper at the motel. She told me, “Since I discovered how much I enjoy this, I have always loved to experiment, but some men were into only one kinky thing, and didn’t want to try anything new.” I wanted to tell her that I liked to try all sorts of things, but of course, I couldn’t. I also wanted to express my amazement at how many men she had apparently caught doing this sort of thing. However, it didn’t really matter what I thought as she had already decided to use me to experiment with new ideas, whether I wanted to do anything like that or not. I suspect that the wide variety of toys on the bed led her to believe – correctly so – that I liked lots of different things, not ‘only one thing.’ She kept playing with me until she came. The external phallus also had a hole down the center, and some of her cum drained down the tube into my throat. “It is very late, darling, and I think that we both need some good rest, so I’ll rearrange you a little bit so you can sleep on the bed. And then I’ll sleep on top of you.”

I really liked the sound of that! Vickie was true to her word; she stayed with me for the rest of the night, although there wasn’t much of that left. So she could keep me in bondage; she adjusted my position so I was a little bit more comfortable, but not much. First, the sexy blonde thoughtfully removed the external dildo. I appreciated that as it made it easier for me to breathe. She also removed the stocking that she had wrapped around my head and then my bra; she tossed both items, along with my big falsies onto the floor. But she didn’t remove the clips. She loosened my ankle bondage so my legs weren’t spread so far apart, but she pulled me farther up on the bed so my legs were still tautly held in position. Then she looped a rope around my shoulders which she secured to the bedposts so I couldn’t move around on the bed. Another rope was used to lash my collar to the bedposts, too, while a final rope was slipped through the rings of my gag and tied directly back to the head board. It pulled my head back awkwardly. OK, in retrospect, it wasn’t more comfortable!

Finally, she arranged several pillows on the bed, on my right side, then she climbed onto the bed next to me and wrapped her right arm and right leg over me. Her soft breasts were compressed against my side, and her head was on my shoulder. She gave my left nip a pinch, and twisted the clamp one last time. The blonde gave my other nipple a lick and bit down on the clamp, forcing me to emit a shrill shriek. Then she settled her head down on my shoulder. Vickie was asleep within seconds.

I was delighted by the scent of her perfume, and I wished that I could tell her that. I was also thrilled by the warmth of her skin against mine. It was the first time that I had ever slept with a woman other than my wife, and that was exciting in an odd sort of way because I had absolutely no control over it. The fact that she was naked while I was totally bound was my ‘perk;’ and I knew that I would feel guilty about all of that afterwards, but I knew that I was truly in heaven, for a while anyway. Consequently, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the stolen moment of exquisite bondage pleasure. Because of my exhaustion, I was able to fall asleep, too, even though my position was incredibly uncomfortable and even though my prick was still painfully stiff, despite hours of confinement.

I did wake up twice during the night, though, because she accidentally knocked the nipple clamps off. The huge rush of pain in my chest woke me up with a start, but I could only groan about it. Vickie just moaned softly without opening her eyes. I would have preferred it if she had done both of them at the same time, but she didn’t, which is why I was awakened twice, rather than just once. But I was still overwhelmed by exhaustion and managed to fall back to sleep both times.

o o o

Vickie woke up first because it had taken me so long to fall asleep in my fetters. She had also had some rest in the middle of the evening because of the climaxes that I had given her while I was still strictured in a kneeling position. The devious blonde woke me up by poking my latex-coated hard-on in its cage, using her surprisingly sharp fingernails. My multi-talented Mistress prepared a meal in the kitchenette: orange juice, eggs, toast, and sausage. We both drank the juice, but she ate all of the eggs and toast for her breakfast, while I ate the sausage – out of her pussy.

She completely released me from my bed bondage on Monday morning because the day housekeepers had to take care of their work, cleaning the room. She did not, however, release me from my cock bondage. Apparently, she liked the idea of keeping a male locked up in a chastity belt, so the harness remained locked around my waist and in my crotch. However, she realized the necessity of untying my arms, but she shackled them together in front of me using conventional handcuffs. A dog choke chain was locked to the center link between the cuffs and to the metal ring at the end of cock cage. It gave me the ability to work, but still kept me very much handicapped. My ankle cuffs and a hobble bar also prevented me from moving fast. I soon learned the reason for the bar.

When she was dissatisfied with my efforts at cleaning up the room, she gave me a whack with one of my leather belts. The first time that she grabbed me and gave me half-a-dozen swats, I was stunned by the fire in my ass cheeks. I made a feeble effort to escape her, but the hobble bar kept me within range; I was amazed at how effective that simple binding was. However, I was even more surprised at how exciting it was to be spanked by someone in a totally erotic context. It didn’t take terribly long for the two of us to load most of my equipment back into my suitcases, but she left out a few toys for later. Those my blonde Mistress simply dumped into the dresser drawer that contained my socks and shirts. “Don’t worry; we have ethics, darling, and only a few housekeepers dare to take the chance of rummaging in a man’s drawers.” She and I both laughed at her pun.

When the room was respectable again, she grabbed my cock chain and guided me into the bathroom. First she removed my corset. She had never dealt with one before, so she was amazed at how much work it took to take one off. When she finally unhooked the front busk and slipped the heavy undergarment off of my waist, I took a very deep breath of air. I had never worn my corset for an entire night before, and the relief was wonderful. I glanced at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see that my body did not instantly return to its normal male profile as it did on the previous occasions when I had worn a corset or basque. Very interesting. It had expanded back slightly, but the over-all profile was still rather feminine.

Next, she unlocked my handcuffs, but pulled my wrists behind my back. She drew the cuffs, which were still chained to my cock harness, back between my legs and clicked them on my wrists again. I didn’t resist her at all; I wasn’t even tempted to do so. She then helped me back into the tub for a thorough cleaning. Before starting, though, she helped me to take a pee in the tub. Once again, the relief was wonderful, and I appreciated it. My dick was painfully sore in its confinement, but it wasn’t the raging hard-on that I had endured for hours the previous day. However, it wasn’t completely soft either, so the harness still exerted considerable pressure on my organs. As I thought about the cock prison, it occurred to me that I could have tied my balls quite a bit tighter before painting them with liquid latex. I was glad that I hadn’t done so as they might have been permanently damaged by reduced blood flow, but the fact that they still hurt told me that they were trapped, not dead.

I didn’t want to get another spanking so I kept my mouth shut when she climbed into the bathtub with me. It was difficult to resist the temptation to tell her how sensuous she looked, but I managed to refrain by thinking about my ass cheeks – they still smoldered with the heat of my last spanking. We then took a delightful shower together, but because of my wrist bondage, she washed me. I hadn’t enjoyed a shower that much in years. (My wife and I took showers together often during our first few years of marriage, but at some point she decided that she didn’t want to do that anymore. Ever since then, showers were mundane, even if I jerked off in the spraying water.)

There was one odd aspect to the cleansing, though, and that was that there was so little sensation, other than a continuous, dull pain, in my crotch. I could barely feel it as she scrubbed around the metal cage between my legs. The sole exception was when she poked her fingernails between the wire rings. That I felt, and it hurt! My cock was so tightly compressed inside the steel bondage device, that I wasn’t sure if my dick would ever be the same. Of greater concern was the fire in my balls. I certainly didn’t want them damaged because of blood flow problems, and I decided that it was simply too important a point to ignore so I expressed my anxiety to my new Mistress, despite her instructions about not speaking.

Her reaction was surprising. “I understand your concern, especially since you have never experienced anything this prolonged. But I bound up a guy’s prick and nuts for three days once. It was just about as strict as yours, although he didn’t have anything as fancy as that cage of yours. He survived just fine, although he told me afterwards when I saw him again, that his cock was limp for more than a week. But he loved it. You’ll do fine, too.” I wanted to tell her that I thought that I should remove the butt plug, too, but I decided against it. I knew that it would have to be removed eventually so I could take a shit. Besides, I was curious to see how I long I could endure the nasty thing in my butthole!

Then the gorgeous blonde helped transform me into Linda again. First, she selected a delightful outfit for me: red and black from top to bottom. My spandex stockings were a tight black weave and were capped with red, low-heeled shoes. I wore a pair of useless, red crotchless panties that were barely visible under the black elastic garter straps of my red and black brocade basque, which she snugged up quite a bit. In fact, because I had been wearing the other corset for more than sixteen hours, it was easy for her to pull the cords tighter than I had ever managed. Of course, she had the additional advantage of pulling on them directly, while I had always had to work on the laces that were behind my back.

Vickie thoroughly stuffed the breast cups of the basque, giving me a ridiculously large bust. (I had purchased a pair of very realistic-looking, size DD prosthetic breasts at a costume store in Hollywood during a previous trip to the west coast. I had enhanced the large boobs by gluing huge, stiff, cherry-sized nipples that I found in the same store over the average-sized ones that were molded into the breast forms. They were positively obscene. But my blonde tormentress stuffed several balled up stockings under each one to make them bulge even more before cementing them in place with body glue.) The boobs didn’t really fit into the basque’s breast cups so she used some make-up on them to blend them with my skin, to make it look more natural.

Next my naked Mistress helped me slip into a black satin chemise and a very tight, low-cut red party dress. Wearing the slutty dress in public was never on my agenda, but she insisted! And the exaggerated cup size made it look even more whorish. The fake nipples were obvious through all three layers of clothing and the cleavage visible in the deep cut of my dress revealed an uncomfortably large amount of my fake breasts. I was glad that Vickie had thought to use make-up on them because they would have looked completely fake otherwise. Instead, I simply looked like I was a cheap stripper who had had one too many breast implants! Actually, it was worse than that. I wondered if I would be able to walk even five feet outside the motel without being arrested for prostitution.

Then came my make-up. I sat down on a chair, and she straddled my lap. “Yum!” she exclaimed. “So this is what it’s like to give a guy a lap dance. No wonder so many women love to do it!” She wriggled herself down in my crotch, which was maddeningly exciting, especially with my eyes shut. I couldn’t see what she was doing, of course, but I was certain that it was garish. I kept my eyes closed at her direction for the entire process. That was OK for me, though, as it made it easier to enjoy the touch of her fingers on my skin and the oddly sensuous feel of the brushes and pencils that she used on my face. She locked one of my many choke chains around my neck as a necklace, and gave me matching bracelets by using smaller ones that I had actually purchased to use on my cock and balls – I decided not to mention that fact to her and inwardly chuckled at the thought of her reaction if – when – she saw me wearing the chains as I actually intended them.

As she screwed down my earrings, she commented, “I thought that your nose ring was a nice touch, but I think that it might not be appropriate at the stores that we’re going to visit.” I smiled in appreciation. The finishing touch was a cheap, platinum-blonde wig. “OK, picture time, darling!” she exclaimed with far too much glee in her voice. She posed me like a model at the table, although we didn’t have the advantage of studio lighting. She also posed me provocatively on the bed. I smiled as best as I could; I was getting a bit worried about my appearance as she seemed far too eager to take pictures of me, and I had a feeling that I was the trampiest vamp in LA at that particular moment in time!

She used up the better part of a roll before she seemed to be satisfied; I was relieved when she was finally finished, but I was more than just a trifle worried about the story that those pictures would tell! By-the-way, I should point out that she was still totally naked, and if I hadn’t been wearing that restrictive prick cage, I would have had a ten inch hard-on, which would have been remarkable in two ways: it would have totally lifted the front of my whorish dress, and it would have been the biggest erection that I’ve ever had, by roughly a factor of two! (I am not particularly well endowed, and five inches is a raging tower of power for me.)

When she finally escorted me to the bathroom so I could see myself in the mirror, I was totally unprepared for the appalling reflection that stared back at me. My mind simply went numb, as did my vocal chords. My bright red lipstick had been outlined too heavily, and the rouge on my cheeks was too dark. The make-up on my eyes was excessive, also. She had mixed red and brown eye shadow, blending them together so my eyelids looked like shadowed pieces of pumpkin, and my eyebrows and eyelashes were lined with black pencil in sharp contrast to the light color of my hair, which was as curly as Shirley Temple. And she had used so much mascara on my eyelashes that they actually felt heavy. I looked like the $10 hooker in every Hollywood B movie. I certainly looked like a woman, but I looked about as cheap and trampy as could be even though I was wearing a $200 dress. I knew that I should say something, but I was totally at a loss for words, and any of my friends will tell you that that is just not possible.

“Well, that was fun,” she laughed. Then she added, “Now let’s fix your make-up for real.” I was confused. She smiled at me and said, “There is no way that I would want to be seen with a slut like you, honey. We are going out to have fun, so I want to be seen with someone who looks moderately respectable!” She laughed again. I did, too. I was tremendously relieved. With the expertise of a professional artist, she removed my gaudy, trampy make-up and vampish jewelry, replacing it with a mask of soft femininity. She even managed to rearrange my dress a little bit so it actually looked like an expensive garment, rather than a cheap costume. “Well, I improved things a bit by removing the extra padding from your bra, but there isn’t much I can do about those ‘suck me, please!’ nipples. And I can’t do anything about your shoes, either. Don’t you have anything with a normal heel?” I smirked and shook my head. “Oh, well, I suppose that I can do something to keep people from staring at you too much.”

A short while later we were in my rental car in the garage. I felt a bit uncomfortable going out in drag. (I’d only done it a few times before, and it was never in very public places except for the one time when I made a trip to a drive-in theater where I transformed myself in my car during the movie, and then actually used the ladies’ room, which was mercifully empty as I had not done a very good job w/ my make-up); and it was especially nerve-racking to be dressed in such a sexy, provocative outfit while my crotch was still harnessed, but at least my make-up looked respectable. All of my apprehension was multiplied a hundred times over by the bright daylight which I was certain would reveal every imperfection of my disguise. We made a short trip to Vickie’s apartment where she made a rapid transformation of her own. I smiled in appreciation. I had expected her to slip into a loose shirt and jeans, but she was more attractively dressed than I was. I hadn’t considered that she might use herself to keep people from staring at me!

An hour later, we parked my car on the strip. We spent several hours talking, laughing and shopping. We explored Sunset Strip together, which was truly a blast. Vickie also showed me a fabulous fetish store where she made me try on several latex garments: a blouse, a skirt, and a dress. The salesgirl was a delight and very helpful. She was very amused by my latex crotch, and showed me some particularly painful toys to use on myself, including numerous nipple clamps (as if I needed any more of those!), a very vicious steel cock tube and chain-mail undershorts! (Just try walking through the metal detector at an airport in those!)

In the end, I bought some new high heeled shoes, including a pair of ballet-toed, knee-high boots; a discipline helmet with removable blinders and cock gag; an interesting, reusable “condom” with a ball sack made from very heavy gauge rubber; the “vicious steel cock tube” (at Vickie’s urging, of course); and two new nipple clamp sets that looked almost as mean as they felt. I also bought a red and a black panty girdle to hide my bulge later during the week while at my business meetings. Lastly, I bought a red latex cock and nipple whip, a blue satin corset and a pair of black high-heeled boots, all for Vickie. It was extravagant, but I thought that she deserved at least that much.

Afterwards, we ate lunch together at a nice restaurant. She had done such a good job at flipping her identity from hotel housekeeper that no one paid any special attention to me. She looked stunning in a tight, navy blue, oriental sheath dress, and attracted lots of interest. Her long legs, which were mostly hidden by the housekeeper uniform she wore six days per week, were accentuated by the sleek sheen of her pantyhose and the formal high-heeled pumps that adorned her small feet, while at the opposite end, her blonde hair was arranged in a tight bun on top of her head in a very attractive way. In between, her make-up, which she had managed to apply in a remarkably short time, was perfect for a day in an executive office, and her simple jewelry looked elegant in its simplicity.

She had a naturally voluptuous body, but she chose to wear the corset that I had just purchased for her which gave her an even more shapely figure, especially in that tight dress. And until I found myself facing her at the table, I hadn’t realized that she had apparently dispensed with her bra! I noticed lots of heads, male and female, turning towards our table. And they weren’t staring at me. The outfit she was wearing would have been appropriate for a saleswoman in a high-priced women’s boutique or similar store. She created the dual impression of an extremely professional woman and a cat on the prowl. Her sumptuously curved body looked far more delectable than the stuffed veal on my dish, and the stiff nipples that strained against the taut material of her dress reminded me of our previous night, which made it difficult at times to carry on a reasonable conversation with her.

So we quietly chatted about ourselves. I told her a little bit about myself, considering that she had just spent hours tying and retying me, it seemed sort of silly to hide the truth about my interests and background. For her part, she told me about her plans to go on in hotel management; she was taking courses to earn a BS in business administration on a part-time basis, and was more than half done with her classes. Vickie was only going to school part-time, while working full-time at the hotel for the past four years. She had actually been at the hotel for twice that long; the first four years were also a time for her to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, but she discovered that she actually liked the business that she was involved in (hotel work, that is, not male domination).

She also elaborated about some of her unexpected “subjects.” She dropped in on all of them the same way that she encountered me, “except for one jackass who accidentally locked himself out of his room, wearing nothing but a leather collar, leather wrist and ankle cuffs, crotchless panties and a bra with nipple holes.” With a scowl, my lovely blonde companion told me that she wished that she had left him locked out, and simply notified the building security, as he turned out to be a first-class jerk interested in nothing from her except assisted masturbation. As for the rest, most of them were much better off financially than I was, and most of them had very restricted fetishes or kinks compared to mine, which was a general love of bondage, humiliation, and cross-dressing. Consequently, she enjoyed spending time with me more than the majority of them. Even though she had just met me, she explained that she was confident that she would be able to explore different ideas that had occurred to her while playing with others, but couldn’t pursue because of their highly specialized interests. That possibility had me excited, too.

She finally explained her “plan” for me, or rather, I should say “us.”

“You have impressed me, darling,” she began. “I’ve already told you that I like to experiment, and clearly you are interested in doing the same. I know that you are limited in what you can and cannot do when you’re tying yourself up.” She paused to sip her wine, and I did the same. “I intend to stay at the hotel until I’ve completed my degree, and that will take at least three more years, probably four, but I might take some extra courses towards the end just because I get a bit antsy when I get close to completing a task, especially one that I’ve been working on for quite a while.

“I was pretty sure that I’d seen you before, so I checked the records and saw that you are a fairly regular customer. If you are interested, I can help you whenever you come out here. I’ll come to your room in the evening like I did yesterday, but there will be no surprise. When I arrive, I’ll expect you to be bound up already. If you aren’t, then I will leave you on your own for the rest of your stay. However, if you are bound up to my satisfaction, and by that I mean bound up so well that it would take you hours to get free without my embellishments.

“If you please me, then I will make your bondage a bit more …complicated. For example, I might make impossible for you to move, like I did yesterday. Or maybe I’ll just add something simple like a blindfold, and … No, I don’t want to give away too many secrets. There does need to be some surprise, just not the surprise we both had yesterday.”

She took another large drink of wine, emptying her glass, and then signaled to the waiter that she wanted a refill, then continued, “You, of course, are an equal participant in this game of bondage and discipline. It will be your job to be a willing subject. I suppose that there will be times that I cross over some threshold of yours; it will be your responsibility to learn to accept such things. I don’t want you to ever complain, except about things that put you in danger of serious physical injury.” Her foot reached up under the table and slipped under the hem of my short dress; she pushed vigorously against my crotch cage to emphasize her point. She was still pushing against my jock when the waiter brought us both new glasses of wine, and she gave it another forceful press while he stood there asking us if there was anything else. With difficulty I said that I was fine, even though I certainly was not! If anything, her foot helped my role-play because my voice climbed a couple of octaves while she kept her toe pressed into my groin!

“Now, where was I?” she asked rhetorically. “Oh, yes. I was pointing out that I expect you to entertain me with your willingness and obeisance. You are going to be my pet, and I expect you to act like a pet at all times. And like a good doggie, you do know how to use your tongue to lick.

“For my part, I will not ever engage in actual sex with you. That is not part of the game. In fact, most of the time, I won’t even let you cum. But a pet can’t be trained unless you make them happy sometimes, so you will get to express your enjoyment from time to time; but only I will decide when that is, or if it is.

“There is one complication to all of this.” I looked at her with a puzzled look. “I don’t work every day, so I won’t have any way to know when you are coming out unless you tell me beforehand. You can’t just call the hotel and ask for me, of course, so we need some other means to communicate.” I shook my head in agreement. I had a feeling that I knew what she was going to propose.

“My suggestion is this – and it will require a tremendous amount of discretion on your part – I will give you my home phone number to call me. I live alone, so no one else will hear any messages that you might leave. But if you must leave a message because I am not there, tell me that my cousin Peter is coming for a visit, and tell me the arrival date.

“Now you must understand that I don’t work every day, so I might not be assigned to work on the day that you arrive in town. If I can make up an excuse to come to the hotel, I’ll do so, but if I can’t, there is no way for me to know your room number because I don’t want you to call me from the hotel. They track phone numbers for billing purposes, and my number is not local relative to the hotel. In general they don’t care who you call, as long as you pay the bill, but there is a tendency to glance down the list during check-out. If someone sees my number on your list, I will get fired. And if I get fired, your wife will get some very strange photographs.”

I responded with a single word, “Ouch!”

“Don’t worry, I would never do anything that stupid unless you really hurt me first; and getting me fired is one of the very few ways that would happen. I have no intention of hurting you except in the context of our bondage games. And you have to trust me on that point, for the obvious reason: if I hurt you first, then you will do something that gets me fired. Then we both lose. So this is a bit like the stand-off between the U.S. and the Soviet Union: mutual assured destruction; and nobody wins. And our mutual fun comes crashing to an end. In addition, we both might get fired.

“Now, do you have any comments, darling?”

I smiled across the table at my stunning companion. “Your proposal makes sense to me. You wonder if I’d trust you? And if you can trust me? How can you possibly doubt that? I let you tie me up in painful ways, and did things that I’ve never done with anyone other than my wife.”

“Well, you weren’t really in a position to refuse me, were you?” she giggled.

I smiled back, “You do have a point there, but I certainly didn’t have to be so nice to you.”

“Hmm, that’s only partly true,” she began. “You couldn’t very well accuse me of anything, could you? After all, that would have put the focus on you and your activities. All the toys were yours, and that wouldn’t have been hard to prove. At the worst, my boss would have given me a private warning, but he couldn’t even write anything in my personnel file about the issue. And if you weren’t nice to me, I would simply have left. You, my luscious pet, would have been stuck NOT holding the bag, or briefcase, I should say. You would have been screwed, and you wouldn’t have enjoyed anything other than hours of wicked, inescapable bondage. In the end, you wouldn’t have been able to work your way out of your bondage, and would have been found out in the morning. And that would definitely have NOT been a good thing.

“But we’re getting nowhere here. Do you agree to my proposal or not?”

I deliberately knocked a fork to the floor, and uttered a stupid, “Oops.” She scowled at me as I got down off my seat, but then I stuck my head under the table and kissed both her feet. As she peeked down under the curtain of tablecloth, I smiled up at her and said, “Yes, Mistress. I fully accept your proposal. I want very much to be your obedient slave and bondage toy.”

“Good, now get back up here and into your chair, you silly slut,” she laughed.

My beautiful blonde escort had to go to work, again, however, so that ended the day – sort of. While she went home to freshen up and change into her uniform again, I returned to my motel room to place myself in bondage once more, but much earlier than the day before. Prior to executing my plan, I had to strip out of my clothing, etc. My jewelry was the first thing off. She had the earrings squirreled down a bit too tightly, and I had to rub my ears because of the stinging pain. It was almost like removing nipple clamps that had been on for too long, although not nearly as severe. Although I enjoyed wearing high-heeled shoes, it was with great relief that I slipped my feet out of the spike-heeled pumps. It was nice to dig my stocking covered toes into the soft carpet and wiggle them. But that was only the beginning.

Getting out of the dress was more difficult than it should have been. There were two large obstacles on my chest that made it difficult to wiggle out of the tight garment. I have always had trouble with those inconvenient back zippers, and the over-sized boobs in front made it that much more difficult. Vickie had zipped it up for me, so I had not had to deal directly with the problem that those huge orbs created, but eventually I managed. The chemise was even more of a problem, but that, too, was soon on the floor. I looked at my sexual opposite in the full length bathroom mirror on the back of the bathroom door. I smiled at the female in the glass, and she smiled back at me. Yes, Linda was rather lovely. It was amazing that I could be that effectively transformed into such a hot, feminine honey. But she was about to go away for a while. Well, not completely. I decided to leave on the wig and the make-up that Vickie had so expertly applied to my face.

I returned to the main part of the suite, sat on the bed, unclipped the stockings from the garter straps, and rolled them down. I loved the way they embraced my legs, and I knew that I would miss it. Fortunately, I knew that it was only a temporary state as I intended to wear stockings every day that week. So that was one pleasure that I would get to experience repeatedly over the next several days, even while sitting through boring business meetings. I smiled as I squirmed out of my panties because that was also going to be true for my underwear. (I had actually packed a few pairs of dirty underwear so my wife wouldn’t be confused about my non-use of male undershorts!) I had lots of lovely satin panties for the remainder of the week, and was looking forward to it.

After peeling off the falsies (which felt a bit weird; Vickie used quite a bit more body glue than I ever had), I finally unlaced my basque. My waist had been under severe restriction for most of the previous 24 hours, which was a unique experience for me, so it was not surprising when it remained rather femininely curved after I unfastened the clasps of the busk. I knew that I wasn’t going to put on another basque or corset for some time, but I did plan to take advantage of my newly created narrow waist.

Then, using the key that my Mistress had given me, I unlocked my chastity harness. The waist belt was actually loose around my waist because I had put it on before adding the first corset, but peeling the belt out of my anal crack was weird. I suddenly felt naked, and my ass cheeks didn’t immediately close the gap that had been created by the strap that had held them apart for a full day. The power unit for the butt plug swung down between my legs. My ass clenched immediately and spontaneously, but it had been stretched open for so long that there was simply no strength to force the plug out. I hadn’t eaten much during the past day (eating pussy doesn’t count!), so I decided to leave the device where it was and take a shit later. I knew that I had to change the batteries in the power pack. The prior set of alkaline power cells weren’t totally run down, but I wouldn’t have a chance to make the swap again, and I didn’t want them running down while I was in bondage. So I quickly replaced the four AA cells with brand new ones.

The hardest part of my task remained: peeling off the metal cage. My organs were still swollen and pressed against the steel bars and rings. Removing the cage from my balls was a bit easier than I expected. Instead of relief, however, there was an instant explosion of fire that encompassed and completely filled my balls. I think that every single nerve cell in my organ was enflamed, and the sudden flood of blood into my nuts delivered liquid fire to each one, energizing them with electrical pulses that had been continuously storing up charge but held in reserve for the past day. The pain made me double over, and I grabbed my rubber-covered nuts, but my scrotum was insensitive to the touch of my hands. The fire was mostly internal, so there was nothing that I could do about it, except endure (and enjoy) the rush. My swollen walnuts hurt about as much as they did when I got hit there with a baseball that I had just pitched at the batter, and he rather inconsiderately blasted right back at me (ruined my no-hitter AND took me out of the game). I collapsed down onto my knees on the floor, still holding my burning organs. I don’t know how long I knelt there, but I am sure that it was quite a while as the pain did not die away quickly. Tears filled my eyes, but I didn’t remove my hands from my hot nuts to brush them away. Eventually, the pain dropped to a level where I thought that I wouldn’t die, and I decided that I could move on to the next stage.

I expected the pain in my cock to be worse, but it wasn’t. Most of the suffering of my stiff priapus had been from compression against the metal bars; unlike my balls, however, my prick was not tied up very tightly so the return of circulation was not accompanied by a sudden, intense rush of blood into the organ when those bars were peeled back. Consequently, there was no explosion of pain as there had been in my testes. As I had expected the worst, it was a delightful surprise. I could tell that my cock seemed a bit rubbery, though, and I wondered if it would be soft for a week like it had been for Vickie’s other subject. I had suffered from the phenomenon that I call rubber dickie before because of excessive bondage. On those other occasions, I was unable to cum for a few days until my cock returned to normal. I wondered if that would happen again because that would certainly complicate my plans for the next few days. Then I thought about my gorgeous blonde Mistress and realized that she would find a way to make me cum if she wanted me to!

There was a bit of pain, though, when I took a pee. It felt as though a stream of sun-baked sand was rushing through the narrow tube inside my dick, and I bit my lower lip as the fluid slowly leaked out. I was surprised that it didn’t come out in a furious stream, considering how long it had been since I had taken a leak. Instead, the flow continued for quite a few, very long minutes, but given the grating irritation, it seemed more like hours. I was happy when the last dribble stopped as I couldn’t control the flow at all, it simply came out until my bladder was empty. It made me wonder if piss would just leak out during my next phase of bondage as my cock didn’t seem to belong to me any more. The thought of that possibility troubled me a little bit, but I understood that worrying about it would not be a good thing. So I shoved it out of my mind and moved on to binding myself up again.

Among the clothing items that I had brought with me were crotchless pantyhose and an old, long-sleeved leotard that I had purchased at a used clothing store. I had modified the crotch of the leotards prior to my California trip; I had cut out a hole in the crotch, large enough to squeeze my prick and nuts through. After slipping into those two items, I wrapped myself up using several rolls of duct tape that I had purchased at the hardware store the day before. (On prior occasions when I mummified myself, I started with my feet, but since my waist was still experiencing a bit of a size reduction, I wrapped my waist first to keep it small. The disadvantage was that it made the process of wrapping the rest of my body a little bit more difficult, but I managed.)

Of course there is a limit to what you can accomplish when taping yourself, so Vickie helped me finish the job during her break. I had covered my legs with enough tape to make them look like a single appendage, and she took care of my arms. She covered each one individually, even each finger was independently wrapped with tape. Then she taped my arms down to my sides so they were totally immobilized against the side of my body. I couldn’t even wiggle my digits. She came back to check on her mummy at frequent intervals so she could torment my nipples and cock which remained uncovered. (Well, that wasn’t entirely true. My main kinky objective for the trip was to keep my groin covered with liquid latex for the entire week, so Vickie never got to see my naked cock or balls during that stay. They were continuously encased in black rubber, which I reinforced with at least one more coat each day.) She also tortured me by tickling me in a most unexpected place.

I thought that she was going to cover my entire head when she slipped a shower cap over my hair to protect the hair from the sticky duct tape, and a second one over my face, punching a single hole in the center to allow me to breathe. When she stuffed ear plugs into my ears to remove my ability to hear and when she replaced the ball gag that I had selected with one that had a breathing tube that passed through the center of the large ball I was absolutely convinced that she was going to cover my entire head, which was a rather frightening, but very exciting, thought. Instead, she left my ears uncovered even though I was still rendered deaf by the soft rubber plugs that she had forced deep into my ear canals.

Why did she do that? I wondered in silence. She gave me time to think about it. Upon her return during her next break, she tortured my gonads as I both expected and craved, but in addition she tickled my ears with her feather duster. I thought that it was going to drive me crazy, but there was nothing that I could do to protest. It was truly maddening! Oh, I should point out that there was a significant consequence of her insufferable torment: I got a raging hard-on again. I had told her about my desire to remain clad in latex during my stay, so she bound my cock and balls with rope after they became engorged again. The most dastardly aspect of the whole affair was that she would stop suddenly to return to her work. There was no warning, and I could not hear her leave so I did not know if she was gone or if she was merely mentally tormenting me, which she did a couple of times.

She watched me in silence for a few minutes, long enough for me to think that she had gone, only to suddenly tickle my ear with that damned feather duster or twist my nipple clamps or squeeze my cock. She was incredibly devious, and I had no idea what to expect from her, but the long periods of complete silence and solitude were truly awesome. A couple times I felt the vibrations of her footsteps when she returned, but most of the time, she shocked me into hyper-attention using the various techniques I just mentioned. It is funny to note that once she just chose to notify me of her presence by blowing in my right ear. I had been meditating and reveling in my total immobility so it quite literally scared the piss out of me!

Total mummification is a truly mind-bending experience. I had partially mummified myself on several occasions before that day, and had truly loved it. But I was not completely helpless. After all, I had to release myself from the bondage. I had even partially covered my head once, including my eyes (which was, in retrospect, an incredibly stupid thing to do, and I’ll describe that particular experience in another story), but my arms were only partially bound so I could cut myself out of my duct tape cocoon. However, there was nothing to compare to that experience when Vickie made my mummification complete. The blackness and silence was overwhelming. In effect, I was a blind, deaf, and dumb quadriplegic for most of a day – except, of course, for those times when she drove me to the edge of ecstasy.

There were times when I wanted out of the silver chrysalis, but the decision wasn’t mine to make. I suppose it was rather foolish on my part, but I hadn’t discussed with her how long I wanted to remain mummified. If I had done myself as was my original plan and as I had in the past, it would have been for a couple of hours, perhaps three, but by placing myself into her hands, I no longer had control of that. And finally, I was totally and completely helpless. I was also obscenely vulnerable. When self-mummified, there was always a point where I couldn’t endure any further delay, so I finally took myself over the edge, but Vickie controlled everything and kept me totally immobilized so I couldn’t give myself a climax when I reached the point of desperation. She did a remarkable job of exciting me and then keeping me as close to the edge as was possible without bringing me over it.

It was the most complete bondage that I had ever experienced. Even today, after experiencing bondage of many types and degrees of immobility, that episode still remains as an unique, outstanding event. Being totally encased in duct tape for hours is a truly brain-blowing experience. The heat build-up is astounding! But much more so is the feeling of helplessness. With a large ball into my mouth stuffed, sound protectors in my ears, and several layers of opaque duct tape wound around my head over my eyes, I was truly cut off from the world. There is absolutely no sense of time when you lose sensations of touch, sight, and sound. To be unable to see or hear or speak is remarkable, and it is not something to be taken lightly. You get locked into your own thoughts and dreams and nightmares; I have much greater respect now for those who are locked away in solitary confinement for days and weeks at a time.

But if you combine that loss of contact with the world with a complete loss of movement. Well, it is a bit like being in a coma, and yet wide awake at the same time. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. Inside the wrap of tape, you get hot. That and the pressure that seems to endlessly grow are your only tactile sensations. You become truly lost inside yourself. It is a very weird experience as your mind creates a new environment for you with artificial sounds and flashes of imaginary light. The sound of your own heart becomes a tympani that also grows in strength and power as you lie there, with a mindlessly boring beat that never changes. And when you are wrapped into complete immobility by the use of multiple layers of heavy, cloth tape as I was, it is even more extreme because you cannot move, except to breath.

But when you are “almost totally mummified” as I was, it is an incredible shock to suddenly feel your cock twisted or squeezed, or your nipples pinched or poked or hit when you are so hopelessly lost in your own world. It is a bizarre, confusing intrusion, especially if it lasts for only a few seconds. And that was all that Vickie did on two occasions. It was a bit like being hit by a strong electrical current. You expect something else, but nothing happens. You futilely struggle and groan mutely seeking more attention, but it doesn’t happen. Of course, other times, the wicked Goddess was substantially more devilish and more persistent in her torments. Typically, she squeezed, twisted, bent, and jerked my cock, but the heavy rubber covering only allowed me to feel the pressure rather than the pleasure of her sweet strokes.

Towards the end of my confinement – although I didn’t know that – she impaled herself on my cock and rode herself to an orgasm, squeezing my erect, but desensitized, rubber-clad cock with the muscles of her vulva. The exquisite, flexing grasp of her vagina was wonderful, but it stopped before I could reach my own climax. I know that if my cock hadn’t also been tied up with rope that I would have certainly cum; instead, I felt as though my cock itself would explode, not merely erupt a plume of cum lave. Of course it didn’t happen. That was the closest that I got. In my timeless, sensationless world, my cock seemed to stay hard for an eternity; of course, I could have actually prolonged my own state as it was the only thing that I thought about for a very long time. And as my erection withered, it pulsed up a few times as if waving to my Mistress to come back and finish the job she started

My blonde Mistress also devoted considerable time to tormenting my nipples. At times she stroked them with the gentlest of caresses, even licking them occasionally. It was more erotic than anything else she did to me during my period of extended confinement. Afterwards, she shocked the poor buds with either a belt or the genital whip that I had bought for her, so they burned in pain for a very long time. At other times, she simply abused them by twisting them or clamping them. I got to wear nipple clamps for several of the long periods between her visits. Those periods were the worst to endure as the pain in my body seemed to build continuously, and concentrate in those two tender buds. And she made it awful by removing them without warning upon her return. Yes, that was one part of her torture that I would just as soon have missed out on!

Finally, it all came to an end.

When the tape was sliced from my body, it was like being splashed with ice water. I was drenched in sweat and mentally exhausted. I only vaguely recall being sponged off and rebound into another position. She spent the remainder of that night with me, too, leaving me inescapably fettered once again, appropriately in my spandex mummy sack and spandex hood.

Later she told me that I had existed for ten hours in my duct tape cocoon. Even after she had finished her shift and come back to my suite, she teased me only occasionally, including that wild ride. As I look back on the experience, so long ago, I wonder now if she actually came back and tortured me as much as I seem to recall, or if that was merely my mind filling in some of the blank periods. I suspect that the latter is true, but I’ll never know for sure. A few of her visits were extremely short, so it is possible that she was just popping in to check on me when she could, so I suppose that it is possible that I am only remembering the reality, but as I said, I’ll never really know.

I was awakened Tuesday morning by a pair of hot, wet pudenda rubbing over my face. I was extremely sore and tired, but she wouldn’t let me up until I brought her to a trio of spasming eruptions. It was an interesting way to wake up. Vickie is wickedly sexy! And her cum was a truly delicious morning nectar. Then she let me suck her boobs for a while, which was surprisingly calming and wonderful. Whenever I sucked my wife’s tits, I also rubbed her pussy to bring her to a climax, but I was still in the mummy sack when I sucked on Vickie’s sweet orbs, so she used one arm to cradle my head against her soft globes while she fingered herself to another explosive climax. I felt as though I were her nursing baby. In addition, I was hornier than I had ever been in my life. I had just experienced two days of unrelenting sexual stimulation, and I was being cuddled by a woman who was significantly sexier than my wife. But my crotch was still completely covered with a thick sheath of latex, and she ignored it completely.

Vickie commented, “I think that you have to go to work today, sweet cheeks. So I believe that it is time for you to get shaved and showered.” She pushed herself into a kneeling position on the bed and unzipped the bag. Before releasing me from my sleep harness, she rolled my rubber-clad dong between her two hands, nearly driving me over the brink. “Now, I don’t want you to come today. If you do, it will be obvious because you will make that lovely latex paint job swell up. So you will just have to exercise some control, won’t you?” She gave my cock a squeeze, as though she were trying to make it symbolically pop.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied submissively. I had no idea how I was going to survive the shower without coming, let alone the day! But I knew that I would try to do it for her. Vickie was a dream come true for me, and I didn’t want to screw it up. I stared at her naked body as she undid the straps that held me bound. She was gorgeous, and I wondered, not for the first time, why she was working as a housekeeper for a hotel, instead of doing something else with her life. She was far more beautiful than my wife ever was, and she was obviously a very ingenious woman.

When I exited the bathroom after my shower, wearing only the robe that was provided, she was sitting on the bed already fully dressed in a casual outfit. I wondered briefly where it came from, and then realized that she had probably planned to spend the night in my room and had prepared for that possibility by bringing something with her when she returned from her apartment. In addition, breakfast was on the kitchenette table: two plates of sunny-side-up eggs and sausage, which reminded me of the day before and made me smile, as well as waffles with syrup, orange juice and cantaloupe halves. Definitely a good way to start the day. Especially since I had already had the chance to eat her, too!

She stood up and walked towards the table and said, “Come over and eat.” It wasn’t a polite request. It was an order. I complied.

When we sat down at the table together to eat, I noticed that she had a bagel and a banana, too, but I didn’t. Since we both had waffles it didn’t make that much of a difference, but I was surprised that she ordered that much for herself. “From now on, whenever, you have eggs for breakfast, I want you to think of me,” she purred sweetly. “Think of them as my breasts, nice and round and soft and something very good to eat.” She flashed her sapphire eyes at me, poked a sausage with her fork, and then sucked the thing half way into her mouth before biting down hard on it. “EVERYthing about breakfast should remind you of me,” she continued, smiling coquettishly at me. The sexy blonde picked up the small, sealed containers of syrup and said, “We’ll save these for later.” She grabbed the packages off my dish, and put them behind her on the counter. I smiled as I thought about how we might use those “later.” Everything about her just oozed sex. And by my good fortune, she loved the same kind of sex that I did: bondage and Female Domination. I was amazed that I had been lucky enough to meet her.

What she asked next sort of shocked me, “What do you think your colleagues would say if they knew that there was a fat plug up your ass, and you were wearing frilly underwear and stockings beneath your suit?”

“I.. I think that they’d be shocked,” I stammered. I had been intending to wear frilly underwear under my suit, but hadn’t mentioned that to Vickie. She had her own plans for me, apparently.

“When you have finished eating your eggs and sucked down your sausage, you are to get dressed wearing the underclothes I’ve laid out on the bed for you.” I looked over at the bed and saw my laciest undergarments. They were also black, which meant that I wouldn’t be able to remove my suit jacket without revealing what I was wearing underneath my white shirt. I’m not entirely sure why, but I did exactly as she demanded. She gave me a moderate sized dildo to insert in my asshole, which I did after finally taking a much-needed shit. Then I put on the lacy bra (thankfully without falsies), black satin and lace panties, black stockings, and black garter belt. When I pulled a T-shirt from the dresser drawer, she simply put her hand on mine, indicating that that was a no-no. I looked at her and smiled, as if to say, “I understand, Mistress.” I dropped it back into the drawer and put on my shirt and pants. I was about to reach for some socks, but stopped before grabbing a pair. I looked over at her and she smiled at me. So I just slipped on my shoes, and tied them a little bit tighter. She helped me with my tie, as if she were my wife. I slipped on my jacket, grabbed my briefcase and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute, little boy,” she said sternly. I turned back towards the beautiful blonde to give her a kiss. How romantic, I thought.

Instead, she tilted her head backwards. “Not me, butt brain, my shoes!“ She pointed angrily down at the new boots that I had just purchased for her. “Shit, you’ve got a lot to learn. I own you, pecker head, and you agreed to it so you will serve me until I say otherwise.” I didn’t know quite how to respond. She hadn’t been that harsh before, although she clearly enjoyed binding me and tormenting me. “I’m sorry,” she suddenly and surprisingly apologized, changing her tone of voice. “Of course I don’t really own you, but while we are together, if you want to continue to play with me, you will treat me like an Empress. In return, I will give you the abuse that you obviously crave, and treat you like an animal, just as we discussed yesterday.

“You truly have been more fun than any other self-bondage nut that I’ve ever met, and I would love to continue to have fun with you. So if you treat me like royalty, and do as I request, I promise that I’ll enhance your self-applied ropes and straps in ways that will make you groan with frustration, just like you want. And at other times, I’ll tie you up myself and torment you in ways that you’ve never dreamed of.” She grabbed my jock for emphasis as she finished her explanation. “I know precisely what to do with this thing to make you squirm, my pet, and I know that you want me to do bad things to it I’ll make sure that it will be useful to one of us whenever you come to the hotel for a visit.” I made a tight-lipped squeal as she squeezed my balls a bit tighter. “I think that I’ve shown you during the last two days – and nights – that I can make your life hellish, and I know that is just what you need and want. If you cooperate, it will be a delightfully synergistic relationship, I’m sure. We’ll have more time to play during the next few nights, but I want you to give this some strong considerations.”

“I’d like that all very much, Mistress,” I answered. I knelt down on the floor in front of her and kissed both of her shoes.

“Yes, you say that now while you are still controlled by your emotions, but you’ll have time to think about this more seriously when you are calm and relaxed. And you need to give this some proper, rational consideration before you tell me that again on Friday morning before you leave for your last meeting and your trip back home.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I agreed. “I will think seriously about this.”

“Good, now go crawl over to the door, and see if the hallway is empty so I can leave.”

I did as she requested; fortunately, the newspaper was on the floor outside the door so I had a legitimate excuse for being on my knees, but there was no one there and informed her of that fact. I kissed her feet and ankles one last time before she left, and only then did I get back up again. After brushing off the knees of my pants and washing my hands one last time, I, too, left the room for my day’s activities.

I bound myself as thoroughly as possible the next three evenings after I returned from my daily business meetings with the contractor, and she rebound me even tighter whenever she had the chance to drop in, eliminating any chances to escape the bonds that I used to ensnare myself. We talked a little bit on Tuesday and then again on Thursday night when we went out for dinner one more time (well, Vickie and Linda went out for dinner, eating only three tables away from one of the contract team members), but mostly I served her sexually. She kept me gagged all of our Wednesday encounter and didn’t spend the night with me. For all that time, though, I was truly her slave, and my hotel room had become the dungeon vault where she took her pleasure and delivered her discipline. On Friday morning, I promised to serve her upon each return, just as I said earlier in the week. And I really had given it a lot of thought, as she requested, because there were all sorts of complications for both of us.

When I went home at the end of the week, I knew that I was a different person, that I had been changed by her. I had endured an entire week of sexual stimulation unlike anything that I had ever experienced prior to that accidental encounter; and I hadn’t climaxed even once. It makes me tremble just thinking about it again. But more importantly, I had crossed a threshold, and actually become a woman’s slave in fact, not just fantasy. My self-bondage had evolved into something new, a starting point for my Mistress, so I viewed it all a bit more earnestly.

That was the first time that I saw the charming bondage queen. I’m not sure if I should classify our first encounter as dumb luck or wishful planning, but I made sure that I went back to the same hotel while I worked on that project. (there was one occasion when they were booked up, but I left a message to tell her which hotel I was staying at, and she popped in for a short visit and some rope tricks.) She continued to work at the motel and helped finish off my bondage numerous times during the next three years. My blonde Mistress grew ever more devious and tormented and tortured me in wicked ways that I truly loved. I suspect that she was probably abusing a few other men during that time, but she didn’t tell me about them directly, nor did I ask.

Vickie was fascinated with my love of bondage, and asked me all kinds of questions about how I got started, how things evolved, etc. Afterwards, she took advantage of me as much as she could and in as many sexual ways as she could. Her awesome torments truly shocked me at times. In return, I worshiped her sex, kissing and licking nearly every square centimeter of her body from the neck down. But I never kissed her on the lips (inappropriate behavior for a slave and his Empress) nor did I ever fuck her. She did, however, fuck me on many occasions; naturally, at those times I was always very well fettered and usually in drag. And when she rode my cock, it was always fettered so tightly that it was impossible for me to cum despite the overwhelming stimulation. On more than one occasion I wondered if she was simply trying to drive me insane.

Due to her increasing level of education, however, she was promoted to the position of night supervisor, which seemed very appropriate for her as she clearly preferred being in control compared to taking orders. That put a bit of a kink in our games as she couldn’t get out of her office as often as she managed to take temporary detours to my suite. The consequence was that I didn’t experience quite as much variety during the course of a night, but she made sure to keep me in knots and straps for longer periods of time. She also gave me room upgrades the last few times that I saw her so she could expand her creativity. There were more pieces of furniture to tie me to, and she figured out ways of using them all.

Although I would leave messages for her at her home, she was the one who was truly in control of the relationship. She would pop in if she worked that day, and only if she was in the mood. I would always be bound up for her when she dropped in, but since I never knew for certain if she would arrive my bondage was always planned to be escapable, just in case she was unable to visit. She did make life interesting, that’s for sure. (On one occasion, she didn't add to my bondage at all. Instead, she simply walked out the door with the keys to my padlocks, leaving me bound for hours while she went about her evening’s tasks! She left me tied and shackled on the floor for the entire night, and returned the next morning in time for me to make it to the company offices for the review meeting.) But when she was there, I was her devoted slave, and if possible, she stayed over. My tongue explored every square centimeter of her body, some areas – such as her delicious tits, sensitive clit and pussy, and ass – much more thoroughly than others.

And I learned more about self-torture and bondage, too, as she would guide me through new techniques that she had learned from other submissives like me, who she had discovered accidentally in the motel. She especially liked tormenting my cock and balls with all sorts of nasty things like straight pins and wicked tie-ups and a few other things that I’ll talk about later, much of which she would also make me do to myself. She particularly loved to fuck my ass with a very large dildo that I bought for her a few months after our first encounter. If she wasn’t there to fuck my ass, she wanted me to wear a butt plug for her, and a chastity belt whenever possible. (She bought the belt for me!)

For three years, I had my own personal dominatrix, just as she had her own personal slave. We learned and grew together. And we both had fun, in a wonderfully perverse sort of way.

Unfortunately, corporate projects come to an end. The engineering finally transitions to production, and new engineers are assigned to the task of production, update, and maintenance. And systems engineers like me are assigned to new projects that involve new people and new places.

Now when I tie myself up or slip into something lacy at home or in a hotel somewhere, I still think of Vickie and how she helped me to expand my horizons, and about how she made self-bondage into a two-person game for a while.


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