Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Risk 2

by S.M.Ackerman

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

Storycodes: Sbf; F/f; rope; gag; car-trunk; cuffs; susp; toys; climax; hum; cons; X

continued from part one RISK Part 3.

This is the continuation of my day of excitement and bondage; if you haven’t read parts one and two, then you have missed all the set up an angst I went through to get to this point. You also won’t understand this last part of my story, but that is your choice.

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.

‘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.

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, ‘My car boot, the risk’.


Now for where you left me. I am at home finally, having escaped, and saved the day, and feeling both horny and quite proud of my achievement. Although it has cost me damage to my car and a broken window to my house, and the risk of total humiliation via exposure, but for now all feels well. With two orgasms to sate my lust I go to bed, intending to sleep late and wake refreshed, but fate has decreed that for me this is not to be!

The noise of someone hammering on my front door is enough to wake the dead, I glance at my alarm clock, its eight in the morning and bang goes my lazy day. Not in the best of moods I throw on my dressing gown and go down to see who the bloody hell is banging on my door at this god awful time of the morning. Any other day and I would have been up and out hours ago, gone to work but not today.

I throw open my front door ready to rip into my unwelcome but demanding visitors, but I don’t, I remain silent. No one with any sense lays into a uniformed Police Officer and a suit wearing accomplice, at eight in the morning, and especially if like me you are not a criminal.

“Miss………” They know my full name! So there is no mistake.

“Do you own a Saab 900 reg…..”

I nod unable to speak.

The upshot of my being disturbed is that I am shortly sitting in a police interview room, being questioned about my involvement with an attempted hold up!

There is no way I am going to own up to having been self-bound in the back of my own car, in a public car park, for my own sexual pleasure, and that is why I managed to leave the thieves for the police to arrest. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that they could trace me and my car, am I daft or what!

Anyway I told them that I followed my car and took it back when the crooks left it unattended, even to my ears my tale felt weak, and to theirs it was clearly a blatant lie. Which left them wondering. They decided to make it clear that they did not believe me, and then put me in a cell to think about my situation.

Three or four hours later Mr Detective, the suit, visited me. I told him that I could not tell him the real story. By then they knew that I was a victim of some sort, as they had interviewed the crooks and from there the gate man at the car-park. Though I didn’t know this at the time, and he didn’t tell me it!

I said I would talk to a Woman Police Officer and explain all to her, but not him. What he thought at this I don’t know, but shortly I was sitting in a nice, well decorated room, with pictures hanging on the pastel coloured walls, and with a proper cup of coffee in a proper cup. Opposite to a woman detective dressed in normal everyday clothes, which is a major improvement on being locked up in a cell.

“You carry those.” I pointed to her belt at her handcuffs, she reached down fingering the cold metal.

“Have you ever put them on?” I asked her.

She shook her head.

“Well I am not sure that you will understand the story I am going to tell you, but its what happened.”

I told her it all, about my desire to be bound and locked up, about my strange sexuality and about my day in self-bondage locked and bound in the boot of my car. I told her in great detail, explaining everything to her, and to my relief I did not see (my expected) look of disgust on her face, in fact she smiled at me, understanding at last the events that led to the police arrest of the thieves.

In a strange way I saved the day, but that thought did not help improve my feeling of humiliation. And damn it, my growing arousal. We talked for quite a while and not just about the incident, then she went away, taking the recordings of our conversation with her. A short while later I was released and she drove me back to my home, which was nice of her.

Two weeks later.

My back window has been fixed as has my cars ignition, and I even have a new key now, so I haven’t as yet recovered my old keys, perhaps I should? Anyway back to the point!

It is Friday evening, I have the weekend off and so back to my self-bondage, as you know my last playtime was rudely interrupted, but now I am part-way into a replacement, and this is so much more fun than the last!

I am lying on my side, my hands handcuffed behind my back, my feet secure with metal leg irons, a chastity belt is locked around my waist, with twin tormenters plugging and vibrating in both of my holes. My red ball-gag is tightly strapped in my mouth, and I am blind folded.

I have no escape method, no ice lock melting, no knife to cut my bonds not that it would cut metal anyway, even if I had one, a knife I mean. The boot of my trusted Saab 900 is closed tight and there is no string to release it. All in all it is fair to say I am helpless, it is also fair to say that I am happy in my confinement.

I have been in this position for an hour or more and have no idea how much longer I will remain like this, but so far, in this single hour, I have had three exhausting orgasms, and one bout of cramped toe (not nice).

The car is droning comfortably along at the speed limit, and I know the driver can clearly hear every tiny grunt I make as I come. The feeling of being so controlled is wonderful, and the humiliation in having no say in what happens to me is driving my pussy to stay very wet.

The thump thump of tires passing over intersections sends ripples through me, and I come again, I scream in ecstasy as my orgasm drives all other thoughts out of my mind. I vaguely hear a laughing voice calling back to me.

“Keep it up girl and you will be exhausted by the time we get where we are going, and if you think that I will let you escape one single second of my plans for you, you are very much mistaken.”

I don’t know what my driver’s plans for me are, but I know it will be me on the receiving end, not them!

Another hour passes and the car is slowing down, I hear the indicators flick on, and we turn a tight left, the springs try to ease the jolting caused by an un-paved road, but fail. I bounce up and down, shaken like the best martini. There is nothing I can do but suffer through the rough trip, though I let my displeasure show in a series of grunts, the driver laughs again then the car stops.

A car door opens and then slams shut, the air changes, becoming fresh, I haven’t noticed how stale it smelt until the boot opened. Hands pull my feet out of the boot and sit me up. I am eased to my feet, my leg irons allow for a short mincing step, and the hand grasping my arm guides me safely. I have to trust the guide as I can’t see a damn thing. I hear the squeaking of a door opening, I am guided inside and the door closes behind me. We walk forward some feet until my guide stops me and turns me around.

Chain rattles, then brush against my back, the hand has vanished. My cuffs are removed with a stern admonition to remain as I am. Another chain brushes my back, then wide thick feeling leather cuffs are fitted to my wrists and the chain to them. A winch starts up; soon my arms are being lifted and pulled apart. More chains are fitted with cuffs to my ankles and my legs are pushed wide.

I am naked, did I forget to mention this! So now I am revealed, it is an odd feeling to have every aspect of your body made ready for someone else’s entertainment, but also very exciting in a warped kind of way. The last fetter is fitted and my legs are winched fully apart, stretched tight.

My full body weight is now dangling on the end of the wrist fetters, I am spread eagle and clear of the floor. Thank god for the wide leather wrist straps, they take quite a lot of the strain, but not all of it, and soon I begin to feel the pain of my position, my arousal returns with a vengeance.

Hands caress my face, fingers touch me lovingly, my blind fold is removed, and once the bright light is adjusted to, I see my Mistress. She is dressed especially for me in her old uniform, the one she used to wear before she became a plain clothes Police Detective. Her name is Clair and I love her, though she is a strict task Mistress, with clear ideas of exactly how I should be treated.

We are ten days into our relationship at this point and all is going perfectly, and I for the first time do not have to rely on self-bondage to get my thrills. Now I rely on my Clair!

That is my story. Clair and I have now been an item for eleven years and my life as her lesbian wife, and bondage slut, is still as exciting today as it was on that very first time that we played together.

I hope you have enjoyed my, our tale or blog, and that you are as happy in your life as I and Clair are in ours.

The End.


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