Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories


by S.M.Ackerman

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© Copyright 2010 - S.M.Ackerman - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; rope; gag; car-trunk; carpark; caught; mast; toys; cons; X

It all seems so simple and easy to me then; drive my car to somewhere suitable, park. Strip naked, get into the boot which I know how to open from inside, and spend the whole day locked in self bondage. ‘Seems’ and ‘easy,’ are two different things apparently!

It started with a B movie; one of those tragically made, low budget films that the director desperately prays will obtain some form of warped cult status. This film failed even to do that, but it did pass a very dull couple of hours for me, between working a nightshift, packing sausages, and sleeping away the rest of the day before going back to pack more meat products. ‘O’ the excitement of my life,’ work, sleep and dull films, and of course, very occasionally, the thrill of self bondage. I don’t get to do the kind of rope and cuff stuff I enjoy very often, (well not as much as I would like) because of the need to work as many hours as I can to survive.

My name is Mary and I’m twenty-six years old and sometimes I feel older. I’m tall, slim, small breasted, mousey brown haired and single; probably because I work so much, and I can’t find a bloke that is into the things I like. They all say they are; you know, free, wild, experimentive, but in reality all they want is to get into my knickers and get themselves off, which leaves very little room (or interest) for me to have any fun. Ah well, I can always dream; one day I will meet him, the one special man with just the right balance of sadistic intent, mixed with a dose of real care, and perhaps, even love for me. For now it is the TV, old films, work and self bondage that keeps me going.

Anyway, enough of my lonely musings, back to the film. The bad guys lock the police woman in the boot of their car and race off; of course our heroine escapes, captures the bad guys and saves the day. I told you it was a B movie, but the point isn’t the film, it’s the boot of the car, and the locking in, and the fact that I am now very horny. As a rule I demand of myself that I am only allowed to masturbate on those rare days that I am not working, and when I have suffered through some form of self bondage! I like the demands of being really frustrated, but I can’t yet afford a real effective chastity belt, so I have to rely on my self determination, and right now, with the films credits still rolling across the screen, I have failed my own domination.

My fingers have eased their way beneath my tracksuit bottoms slipping beneath the elastic of my panties and are gently tweaking my nubbin. Arousal now controls my fingers completely, my mind races around and about the image of the policewoman being dropped into the boot, I imagine what she must have felt like whilst she lay there watching the lid slowly close. How helpless and confined, a captive. My breathing changes, my juices flow, and I am steaming towards the ultimate satisfaction.


Damn it, my thoughts waver, my fingers hesitate, and the moment is lost. That little dominant voice inside of my head screams at me, demanding with its presence, enforcing my self-discipline. Two little letters, one powerful word, ‘NO’. I snatch my hand away from my sex, just like I used to when I was a teenage and heard my mom coming up the stairs. ‘No slut’ the voice instructs, ‘you haven’t earned that, you don’t deserve any pleasure.’ I sit up sharply, my hands in my lap, I move them because they are too close, too tempting. My sex throbs, demanding; no I think, soon yes, but not now. First I need to suffer my self inflicted punishment; I need to do my penance, to endure the ropes, the tightness, the constraint, the risk!

That last word held so much power, ‘risk;’ I have never really done anything with real risk. Mostly I tie myself up in my bedroom or occasionally the lounge, but never has there been any ‘risk,’ but now the idea is beating at my thoughts, ‘the car boot, the risk’, repeats over and over. I have decided even before I realise exactly what I am going to have to do if I want to get myself off.

Owning a car to me is not a luxury, it is a necessity, because of the shift patterns I work. It’s old, sixteen years or so, dark blue and made by Saab, it’s an old 900 hatchback and as such, it’s perfect for the fantasy bondage session I have decided to enact. Job one is empty out the boot of all the junk drivers inevitably collect. Luckily most of mine will fit in the space beneath the floor. Next have a look in the book and at the boot-catch, just to make absolutely sure that I know how to open it from inside. I locate a small metal switch which overrides the lock and up pops the boot nicely. With my safety concerns addressed, I turn my thoughts to my adventure to come, and more importantly, the bondage.

As I have said, I do not have loads of expensive bondage gear, for instance my ball gag was bought off a pet stall on a market. It consists of a two inch plastic ball with lots of holes in it. I threaded a thin belt cut to size through two holes which I had enlarged, and there you have it a ball gag, which works very effectively I can assure you. My handcuffs are made from a single length of rope and information searched out on the net, the double loop knot I discovered is very effective. I intend to use a version of this rope method to secure my feet as well. I also have an adjustable handbag strap with clips at either end, these I intend (with some difficulty I expect) to secure my wrist rope to my feet rope, thus making a basic hog-tie. There is one last very simple piece of equipment I intend to use, it is a pair of steel spring washers and I can tell you they are very effective.

Those of you who have tried this sort of bondage, will instantly recognise that once secured, there is no-way to release myself. This I intend to do using a simple ice-block & lock method, i.e. an old pair of tights and a ring through which it must fall. I intend to attach a fairly blunt knife to the release cord, and when it drops, I will need to wriggle around until I can cut myself free.

With the basics of my intended bondage decided on, and where necessary prepared, I now turn my attention to finding a suitable place for it all to happen. Not easy I can assure you. First, it needs to be a place where the car will not stand out and so attract unwanted attention. It needs to be a place that is open and used twenty-four hours, so that I can get into position early and leave late. A place where people can and do walk by, so that I can feel the fear of possible discovery. After all the main point of doing this to myself is the risk factor. Finally it needs to be a place that is relatively safe, but not monitored by cameras, and in this day and age of security everywhere, that isn’t going to be easy to find.

My first thought was a local beauty spot, but I quickly realised that a park or lakeside is not twenty-four hours, and they are patrolled by either the Police or Rangers, so I will get caught, so no go. My next idea was on first thought brilliant, a ‘Superstore’, there are quite a few that are open all night, but the more I considered it, the less appealing it became. There are far too many cameras and security at such places, so getting in and out of the car becomes very risky at best. Also despite the amount of customers cars coming and going, (and that’s the problem) a lone, unmoving vehicle will soon draw attention, so again I will be caught. Then it hit me, ‘my car will not look like it belonged where it is,’ and that is the real problem, making it fit in and therefore belong!

The answer is quite simple, once I think about my car as something that needs to belong and fit with its surroundings. Why I didn’t think about it first I will never know, after all others have posted stories set in similar places. I have my place of captivity, well in theory, now all I need is to locate it in reality. Simple you would think; not so, believe me, there are lots of them about, but I had to visit seven before I found one with just the right balance of privacy, time open and safety, yet with people around frequently to provide the element of risk. Now all I need is the free-time and that arrived a week later, two whole days off! Friday and Saturday then back to packing on Sunday, but I have my time. I decided to set my bondage for Friday morning early, as I think that I might need all day Saturday to recover.

Friday morning at four-thirty a.m. my alarm clock screams at me to wake up. I sit up and look across my bedroom at the old chair, on which last night I had carefully placed out the clothes I had decide to wear for this my captivity. They consist of a micro pleated skirt in black, hold up stockings, a thin almost see through blouse, and sensible shoes. Not very erotic I know, but the scene in my mind was one of being grabbed and bundled into a car boot by two thugs, presumably intent on holding me for ransom, and perhaps having some fun at my expense along the way, so wearing nothing would not fit. I did have one addition to my bondage kit, and that was a simple plain smooth dildo, which I intended to secure with a belt and rope arrangement into place, it will add to my imagined humiliation perfectly, and being bound in the manner I intend, I do not expect it to provide much satisfaction, but hopefully, it just might add some serious frustration.

The car park is as I expected it to be at this time of the morning, virtually empty when I pulled my Saab through the entry (yes you got it, a 24 Hr Car Park). I had already picked out the ideal place that I want; it is at the far end of the area and around a blind corner, shaded by a large yellow container. My car will back in perfectly between the container and the back wall. There is even a back walkway out of the place, so the guard on the gate will not be surprised if I do not walk out past him.

When I pull up to the stop barrier and the guard approaches my window, I casually tell him that I am catching a train and expect to be back very late. He seems more interested in looking me over, than in listening to me. I pay for 24 Hrs and he reluctantly drags his eyes away from my long stocking clad legs, and returns to open the barrier for me to enter. Step one complete I say to myself with a fast growing excitement. Now the only immediate worry I have, is the obvious one. Is the parking spot that I have so studiously located already taken? Thankfully as I drive around the corner I can see it is vacant. Having parked, I take one last look around to satisfy myself that I am alone, then opening the car-door, I twist my feet out and slip off my sensible shoes, I have one last thing to do before I allowed myself to leave the car.

Picking each shoe up I insert one spring washer inside of each, then I put the shoe back on, lacing each tight. Even with my feet clear of the ground I can feel the raised edges of the washers digging into my heel, walking on these things is very uncomfortable at best, and agony after a while. I get out of the car shutting and locking the door behind me, the steel grabs at my flesh, pinching it vice like, with each step I take towards the Saab’s rear hatch. I open the hatch, noting the board cover lifts perfectly to reveal my place of incarceration. Then on a whim, I throw my car keys into a pile of rather greasy looking rubbish, located behind the large bin. I will have to get down on my hands and knees and stretch my arm out into the garbage to recover them later. Not pleasant I am sure, but now I have no choice, just one more facet of my impending fantasy.

A very last look around snatched through the large hatch-backs window, and I duck into the boot space, pulling the hatch down behind me. It closes with a clear snap, locking me inside with my cars keys outside. In the boot I have a small ice box; inside of it is my release. The knife and string arrangement is already in place, so all I have to do is connect the ice release. This is far harder than I expected, mostly as the boot is pitch black and I hadn’t thought to bring a torch, but finally I feel certain it is properly secured, and with plenty of solid ice cubes to melt before I can obtain the blunt knife, and my eventually my freedom.

Next I reach into the zip-up bag in which my bondage equipment is waiting for me. I take out the first belt and wrap it around my waist, beneath my short skirt which I wriggle up. Next I fix into place, then pull the wide belt through between my legs in preparation, I take out my dildo after sucking it to lube it, I then reach down between my parted thighs and slowly, so slowly, ease it right into my very aroused slot. God it feels nice going in, it takes all my willpower to resist tossing myself off there and then. I resist and shortly I pull the tight crotch strap up and fastened it in place with a small padlock, which by the way, I do not have a key to. Yes, that’s right, the key to this little but critical lock is at my home, innocently waiting for me on my kitchen work-top, so when I finally have earned my release and recovered my car-keys, I will have to drive home still firmly plugged.

That is exactly the point when I first hear another car drive in and park near to mine, the first of many I might add. I listen, mouse quiet, frozen in expectation as the car door slams shut. I hear the tip tap of high-heels on tarmac as the woman driver depart, obviously unaware of my presence; I let my breath out slowly not having realised that I have held it. Next I take out one of the two lengths of short rope, this one has a metal ring on it, I tie this rope around my ankles, making sure the ring is at the back; to this I snap the adjustable hand-bag strap. Another rope goes just above my knees; practice has shown me exactly how tight to secure it, to get the best effect, whilst not cutting of my circulation.

I have reached the point I always dread, ‘the ball gag,’ being two inches across it doesn’t sound to big, but when that two inches is firmly wedged between your jaws, and trapped by both your teeth and its tight strap, it feels huge, believe me.

All that remains now is my handcuff rope and the blindfold, this is another afterthought, but though unnecessary, judging by how dark the boot is, I still decided to fit it, if only because the feeling is, well, amazing. The wrist cuffs fit quite easily but clipping my hand-bag strap to them is almost imposable. (Note to self, I must get a better way of doing this.) Eventually I obtain the near impossible, I am lying on my side, my legs tightly pulled back and fastened to my wrists, gagged, bound, plugged and in ecstasy, all because I am locked in the boot of my car waiting for…

Part Two

Well here I am again, it is silent out there in the car park, In fact can’t hear a damn thing at the moment, and that’s probably because there is nothing happening, now that the woman in her heels has parked and left. The Saab’s boot is pitch black and has a sort of echo to it, so my breathing sounds kind of laboured and odd. My pulse is racing and the adrenaline is pumping through me, it is adding nicely to my state of arousal. My dildo is pushed in and held tightly into my sex by the belts and no matter how I rock my hips, or contract my muscles I can’t quite get it to give me the stimulation I desire. And it’s noisy, which is quite dangerous, as it might attract attention to my car, and no matter how I might fantasise about being caught and bound like this, it is not really high on my list of desires. I imagine that my slightest move rocks the old Saab on its springs, and if nothing else, that movement will give me away. So orgasm is not going to be on for me, well not until I finally get out of this my self set trap.

My getting out relies on the ice lock melting and freeing my cuff key, and also the small knife, and that might take quite a while. Then once I have removed all of the bonds I can remove, I still have to get out of the boot, which is quite easy to open, one quick pull on a cord and the lock springs and the boot open. The problem is that I don’t know if anyone will be standing where they can see the car, and if they are, and the car boot opens, they might come over to investigate, and I will have a hell of a time explaining my presence inside of that open boot. So I will have to be as certain as I can be that I am alone before I pull that cord, and take the risk…

It must be two hours now and still when I squirm over to the ice lock it seems to be fully intact. How bloody long does it take to melt a little key out of a block of ice, now there is a question? A sensible person might have tested it out, obviously, as is indicated by my present location and situation, I am not that sensible, because I have not tested it!

The rope and straps around my legs are tight and seem to be getting tighter, I know it’s a figment of my imagination, but that is the way it is.

A loud metallic crash thunders through the car boot, echoing around my head and scaring the daylights out of me, shortly it is followed by another and another. The bin, or skip, or whatever they call the things is being filled up by someone, I lay as still and breath as lightly as I can. Nothing happens, no more noise, no sound of footsteps, nothing. Just me being as silent as a mouse beneath a cats whiskers. No matter how much you intend to be quiet and hold your breath it is very hard to actually do so for long, the tension builds and soon you need to take a deeper inhalation and there you have it, noise! Especially if like me you have a ball gag filled with holes wedged behind your teeth, forcing your jaws wide open and strapped tightly in place so it isn’t going anywhere. I breathed in and out, in and out, and the sound is intense, the risk delightful, I think someone could hear my breathing from across the car park. But if they do no one comes near.

My heart rate slows down at last, the first bursts of excitement have faded and now reality hits me. I know what I have done to myself, I know the risk I am taking, but what I can’t hope to understand is how being horny, can make what is obviously a bad idea into an acceptable one, and then drive me forward to actually do it for real! I am sure that most people would say I am mad, but I know different, and I think so does anyone that is reading this my story.

I hear a flurry of cars arriving, driving around, parking, car doors slam, people call hello and talk occasionally, then leave, none knowing that there is a bondage slut within hearing distance and she is getting off on their presence. They of course are just going to work or shopping or whatever, totally innocent and very normal.

It must be mid morning now and the heat in the boot is slowly rising, at least it should melt the ice quicker. Everything seems so peaceful until I hear a voice whispering.

“This one is perfect, not too old, not too secure, let’s do it!”

What the hell is going on? The voice sounds near, very near. I listen hard acting like that mouse earlier again. I hear metal on glass and then a click, it sounds inside of the car, my car. Then a door release clicks and someone slips into my Saab. I feel the car rock as he, for I am certain it was a male voice I heard, sits in my drivers seat. I want to scream at him to get out, but not a good idea, what with my gag and my inability to resist in anyway if they find me. Remaining silent and motionless seems to be a much better idea. The other door opens and the car rocks the other way as someone else joins his partner in crime. Car thieves, they are car thieves and they are steeling my car, which is bad enough at any time, but today I am in it, which for me makes it much worse and very scary.

My engine starts and I hear the gearbox screech as it always does if the revs are too high going into first. The sound hurts my ears then the car moves, a bit jerky initially, but it moves.

“Here you are mate, keep the change.”

“Cheers.” A voice replies. And then the car turns right and accelerates. They paid the parking fee and even left a tip, well they do have a car and it has cost them nothing, so I suppose they don’t care much. Well I do, it’s my car and I don’t want it stealing, nor do I want it stealing when I am in the boot.

The thieves drive for a while, in the films the captive listens and works out where they are by sounds, but believe me, in reality you can’t hear much over the exhaust note and tire noise. As for knowing where we are, I don’t have a clue; guess I would make for a lousy hero.

“Right Rob are you up for it?”

“Yea why not, he won’t know what hit him!”

“Ok just as we planned, we park the car, leave it open and hit the shop. We wave the replica pistols around a bit, grab the stuff and leg it back to the car and away, simple mate.”

“Yea sweet and then down the pub for a little celebration.”

‘Shit,’ they are going to rob someone and with me locked in the boot! I wonder if that makes me an accessory or a kidnap victim, either way I don’t like it.

The car pulls up, and then reverses a bit, turning inwards, obviously parking. I hear them getting out, the doors slam shut, I can imagine them walking across the road, off to do their crime.

The ice has melted, my fingers can feel the key, I take it and the knife and release my cuffs and cut my bonds. Now what?

Without thinking of the consequences I pull the boot release cable and up it pops on it hydraulics, a quick scramble and hobble (because of the washers in my shoes) around the car, first having slammed the boot shut, then I get back into my car but this time in the drivers seat. I am sitting behind the steering wheel of my Saab, waiting for the crooks to return and make their escape. ‘Like hell!’ But I have no keys and don’t know how they started my Saab. There they are, running out of the shop pistols in hand. I reach out and lock the doors just before they arrive.

The look of shock on the leading one’s face is a picture, he bangs against the window to little effect, then he sees that ball gag still fixed in my mouth, and me shaking my head at him. Shortly I fumble under the steering column and find a couple of freshly cut wires dangling; I touch them together, just as he bangs again, and screams at me to get out, the engine starts.

Letting the revs drop I put my car into first, turn the wheel, wink at him and pull out of the space and accelerate away. Behind me I see Police car’s appearing, the two of them, swag and guns in hand, forget about me and their disappearing getaway car and start to run. The Police give chase, which is all I see in the rear view mirror as I turned left at the next junction, and try to make sense of the road signs.

Half an hour and ten miles later I arrive back at my home. My dildo has driven me past caring, I need to get in and to get off, nothing else matters to me right then. I still have the ball gag between my teeth as I rush towards my front door, ‘damn it’ my house keys and the Saab’s keys are waiting not in my handbag, but behind the rubbish container at the car park. ‘Damn it’ I repeat mentally and damn the ball gag for stopping me having a good swear.

I hasten around the back, pushing open my back gate and then picking up a stone, I smash the backdoors little window and let myself inside. The keys can wait, the ball gag can wait, even my shoes can wait as I yank my skirt up and thankfully I get my fingers to do the walking, and I get my long awaited, eagerly anticipated orgasm, well three actually!

That is my adventure, and in a way I was the heroine of sorts and I think the cops will have caught the bad guys, and I still have my car and can collect my keys later.

All in all it turned out quite alright, so how do I top that?

The End.


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