© Copyright 2001 - Otto Dix - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; outdoors; naked; rope; nylons; thorns; predicament; torment; mast; climax; cons; X
As with many self-bondagers, I started doing self-bondage as a young adolescent. Back then; my family lived in a small northern community surrounded by thick pine forests. The best time of year was spring. The weather was warming up, and there were no bugs to speak of. I looked forward to spring for the opportunities to do outdoor self-bondage.
I explored the forests near my home on a regular basis. I knew the common trails and I created a few of my own. Deep into the woods, about one-hour's walk, I made a clearing for myself, about 40 feet from a trail. I made a safe place for myself under a huge pine tree. It was almost like a cave, but the walls and ceiling were made of pine branches. Inside, I was well hidden from anyone that might happen along the trial. However, that was highly unlikely. For two years, I never crossed paths with anyone else along these old secluded trails.
Just outside my safe hiding area was a wild raspberry patch. In the spring, it consisted of the old bare stocks, covered in very sharp thorns. The patch itself was about 5 feet wide and went on for about 15 feet. Wild berry patches like this were common in these woods, and established themselves quickly in any bare spots in the woods.
At first, I would go to my safe hiding area and just remove my clothes. It felt so nice to be naked in the woods. The air was cool, but I could lie in a sunspot and feel warm. I found it very arousing to drift off to sleep just out side the safe area, lying in the sun. I would wake when the sunspot moved along, and I would begin to get cold again. I would be very aroused when waking up to find myself lying naked in the forest, uncertain if anyone had walked by or not. Even if someone did walk by, they wouldn't be able to see me if I was lying down. I was too far from the trail, and the forest was too thick.
Later, I started stockpiling rope in my safe area for bondage purposes. I practiced simple techniques. I knew how to tie my hands together using a loop and a noose to cinch it. I had a noose I used over and over again. It had a non-slip bowline at one end, and a common hangman's noose at the other. I would use a loop using old nylons. They stretched nicely to be tight on my wrists, and they were easy to cut. I would place the non-slip loop on a tree branch, cut about a foot from the trunk, and about waist level. I would put the loop and noose in my wrists, and then pull the noose shut. All I had to do was then pull on the rope from a slightly different direction, and I was free to roam around with my hands tied behind my back. When I was ready, I would use my lock-blade knife to carefully cut the nylon.
I would often take the knife and stick in a tree, away from my safe area. I enjoyed trying to make my way through the forest naked. The brush would scrap along my legs, and if I were not careful, I would get a painful whipping across my genitals. Some times I would place the knife near the trail, or even just on the other side of it. However, this was not very exciting after the first two or three times. The area was so secluded; there was little risk of discovery.
One day, I decided to put the knife on the opposite end of the wild raspberry patch. The idea was to walk through the patch to get to the knife. I had the knife in a tree on the other end of the patch, and then went to my safe area and stripped. I tied my hands behind my back as usual, and started to make my way into the berry patch. It was very difficult. I had to try and step between stocks, and avoid dragging a thorny stock across my penis and testicles. I tried several times, but finally gave up. I headed for the trial, went down about twenty feet and headed back into the woods. At one point, I lost track of my direction and got a little worried, and aroused. I finally found the end of the berry patch and retrieved the knife and set myself free.
That night, I wondered how I could actually force myself to go through the patch. I had an idea. In the basement, we had the old clothesline cord. It was a metal core with a plastic cover. The plastic was coming off in parts. The next day, I put the whole thing in my knap sack and headed off to the woods. Once at my safe hiding place, I located two trees on opposite ends of the berry patch, and extended the clothesline from one end of the patch to the other. I tied the line to the trees tightly, and put it at about waist height. While at the other end of the patch, I took my knife and stuck it into the tree that I tied the line to.
Back at my safe hiding area, I stripped and piled my clothes neatly on the ground. I prepared a nylon loop for my wrists, and I also used another cord to make a leash. I made a nice ball harness with the rope that stretched and divided my balls. One free end of the rope extended from the bottom of my balls, and dangled for about a foot. I walked over to the berry patch and found a tree branch to use to tighten my noose with. I then made a non-slip bowline loop that went around the clothesline. I was like a dog on a clothesline. I could walk up and down along the line, but no more than 6 inches to either side. I put my hands behind my back and tried to undo the rope loop. I wanted to see if I could free myself. I shortened the loop even more so that I could not reach it with my hands behind my back. All I could do was walk side ways along the line.
Confident that I would not be able to free myself without the aid of a knife, I prepared the noose and the loop to tie my hands together. I stood still for about 5 minutes contemplating my immediate future. As I gave a sudden hank on the noose and closed the loop around my wrists, my penis immediately stiffened right up.
I had no choice now. I had to go through the berry patch to get the knife. The walk through the patch went slower than I anticipated. The thorns were very sharp, and every once in a while, one would really grab into my inner thigh, and I would have to try and work it free before continuing.
What I didn't anticipate was the trouble I had with the clothesline itself. Every time the loop came to a part of the line where the plastic coating was gone, the loop would get snagged. I would have to tug very hard with my balls to move the loop along. About ten feet into the patch, I thought my knees would buckle from the pain. However, falling would be bad. Not only would I fall in thorns, but also the clothesline would pull mercilessly at my testicles.
I eventually freed myself, and limped home. I laid in the bath, and applied peroxide to my wounds. Some of them were deep, and a couple were in sensitive areas. Despite the wounds, I masturbated that night while reliving the self-torture session of the day.