Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Real Deal

by Igor Stravinsky

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© Copyright 2020 - Igor Stravinsky - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; bond; clamps; gag; hotel; ice; chain; cuffs; cons; X

I know lots of authors say this at the beginning of a story, and no one ever believes them, but this is a (mostly) accurate account of a real scene I did recently. So, you can believe me or not, but it still really happened.

Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-six.

Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-seven.

Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-eight.

Breathe in, breathe out – oh, god, please. Ninety-nine.

Breathe in. My breath shuddered this time as I let it out with a whimper. One hundred.

I had counted my steady breaths up to a hundred four times now, trying to measure the passing of time and hoping each time that before I reached one hundred I would hear the clatter of metal as my keyring fell to the floor. But as with the first three hundred breaths, I was to have no reprieve yet.

For what must have been the twentieth time (I had lost count), I let out an angry squeal that would have been unintelligible even without the two-inch rubber ball that was currently being held firmly in my mouth by a network of leather straps buckled tightly around my head and chin. For what must have been the twentieth time (I had lost count), I shook my head as forcefully as I could, given the heavy leather posture collar buckled and locked around my neck. I shook my head because clipped to a ring on the front of my harness gag was a chain leading to the clover clamps that viciously grabbed my nipples and I hoped, for what must have been the twentieth time (I had lost count), that this time the force of my shaking head would tear them free.

Unfortunately for me, the posture collar prevented too much headshaking, and the result was that the clamps only pulled and twisted my now-throbbing nipples, further increasing my already-considerable pain and discomfort.

I need to get these fucking things OFF... NOW!

My thinking it was as far as it went, however, and my nipples remained in the grip of the clamps, shooting bolts of pain through me every time I moved my head. I was prevented from using my hands to open and remove them because they were trapped behind my back by a pair of sturdy handcuffs that I had, for reasons I now regretted, ratcheted closed myself some time (at least four hundred breaths) ago. 

I was trapped on the floor by a heavy pair of leg irons, also closed by my own hand. The chain between them I had wrapped around my balls and secured with a padlock, preventing me from moving my legs more than a few inches from my torso without pulling painfully on my balls. I had also used another padlock to fasten the cuffs close together, further limiting my motion. I was also prevented from sitting straight up by a piece of parachute cord; I had tied it through the chain of the leg irons on top of my balls, fed it underneath, through the lock holding the chain to my balls, and then up to a d-ring on the front of my high leather collar. This forced me to lean forward; any leaning back would pull on the parachute cord splitting my balls and tugging on them even more painfully.

For at least the twentieth time (I had lost count) I tugged on my hands closed in the cuffs behind me, and again they refused to come free. The handcuffs were not the only thing holding my hands in place, however. The cuffs were locked to a chain that went around my waist. Locked to this waist chain was another chain arranged like a letter ‘Y’ – one chain went from my back, through my legs and split to go on either side of my cock and balls, to lock again on the front of the waist chain. This arrangement kept my hands held firmly at the small of my back and prevented any attempts to reach around to take off the clamps. This chain also held in a butt plug that I had inserted before locking the chains on.

That plug is really uncomfortable, I thought. I want to get it out of there! How can I get it out of there? How much longer until I can get it out of there? Fuck!

Again, the thought was as far as it went, for I had made certain that I would be unable to alleviate any of my torments until my keys dropped and I could unlock my handcuffs. My thoughts started spinning out of control, and I started to worry.

It was just one extra ice cube, I told myself. Should it be taking this long? How long has it been? I’m pretty sure I set up the release correctly. What if I didn’t set it up right? Jesus, come on! Why did I do this? I want out! Please!

I grunted angrily, with no noticeable effect. I shook my head again, as violently as I could. The clamps remained stubbornly attached to my aching nipples, pulling and pinching. I tugged on my hands, but the cuffs, as before, held fast. I tried to straighten up a bit, but the parachute cord splitting my balls kept me hunched over. I shook my head again, this time less vigorously. The clamps yanked my nipples back and forth and elicited another pathetic whimper. I closed my eyes.

Breathe in, breathe out – one.

Breathe in, breathe out – two.

I was on Christmas vacation from school. One of the things I liked about being a teacher was summer and winter breaks. It allowed me time to pursue a variety of projects.

I had been interested – very interested – in bondage for a long time. I think ‘obsessed’ might be a better word. I had never shared this kink with my wife but had kept it secret. Since our divorce I had practiced some self-bondage but had never really progressed to a serious scene. I had played with the toys, and had amassed a fair collection of gags, cuffs, restraints, plugs and, my favorite, clamps. I had just never tried ‘the real deal.’ After my parents retired and moved in with me, it became even harder to play.

Which is why over Christmas break I decided to take a brief trip across the state to see a national park. I would stay overnight in a hotel, which would give me the time and space to play ‘for real.’ Several days after Christmas I booked the hotel, loaded my car with some clothing, and my toy collection of course, and set out across the state.

After a drive of several hours, I arrived at the hotel. I checked in and took my things to my room. The first thing I did was take off all my clothes except my floral socks. I kind of felt even more submissive wearing nothing but these rather silly socks. Like I had a mistress who wanted to humiliate me in addition to binding and torturing me.

I opened my bag of toys, and pulled out my hinged handcuffs and leg irons, and quickly ratcheted them closed with my hands in front of me. I then took out my other toys and laid them on the bed. Every so often my handcuffs would brush against my dick, and the feel of the smooth metal started getting me excited.

I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Even though I am in my early forties, I am still in good shape, and I could see the muscles in my arms strain as I pulled against the handcuffs. My cock was standing at nearly full attention, and I smiled archly.

This is it! I thought. I get to really try it! This is going to be mind-blowing! Take it easy, you’ve got all night.

After getting my collection out on the bed, I took off the cuffs and leg irons and laid them on the bed as well. I pulled back on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and went down the hall to the ice machine. I got a handful of cubes and came back to the room, again disrobing immediately. I was to be naked like a slave for as much of this short trip as possible.

I grabbed a three ice cubes and set up my release to test it. It was a smooth metal ring that I hung from the rod in the closet. I put the ice in a length of nylon stocking and fed it through the ring. The ice caused the end of the stocking to catch and prevent it from going all the way through. To the free end of the stocking I tied a weight and a ring of keys. I was not testing the release to see if it worked – I had already secretly tried it in my closet dozens of times at home, and it fell every time. I was testing to see how long three ice cubes would last, to time my bondage. I dressed again and went down to the spa to enjoy an hour or two lounging in the jacuzzi and the steam room.

I returned to my room, relaxed and seriously horny, a little over an hour later. The first thing I did was check the key release. It had already fallen to the floor, so I knew that three ice cubes would take less than an hour to let go. I turned up the heat to make sure that the temperature was enough to melt the ice in a timely manner. I was ready to go. God was I ready! I wanted to be as frustrated and tortured as possible during this ‘real’ scene, so I got down on the floor to practice, and do a few other things.

The next thing I did was empty my ice bucket. I would go down the hall in some bondage (secret, of course) to get a fresh, full bucket of ice to play with all night. I grabbed my waist and crotch chain, some padlocks and my butt plug. I lubed the plug, squatted down, and slowly began to push it into my ass. As always before, I had to really relax, there was a little bit of pain and then the plug ‘popped’ into place, held in by the muscles there. I stood up and walked around a bit. The plug made itself known with every movement, focusing my attention on my now violated backside. I wrapped the chain around my waist, locked it, and then ran the ‘Y’ through my legs and around my manhood, trapping the plug in me until I unlocked the chain later.

That task completed; it was time to prepare myself as a proper slave to fetch ice ‘for my mistress.’ I picked up my tweezer clamps from the bed. I was a connoisseur of nipple clamps, and a great fan of nipple play and torture. Very few things turned me on as much as having my nipples played with or pinched. Every story I read with descriptions of the poor victim being forced to endure the pain of nipple clamps without respite got me seriously hot. I couldn’t wait to have that suffering visited upon me. I took the tweezer clamps, pinched my left nipple, placed the clamp over it and pushed the slider closed. I slip it down only about halfway – a definite pinch, some pain, but very bearable. I repeated the process with my right nipple and let the chain hang between them. Later I would try something more severe, when I would be compelled - I hoped, if I was clever and thorough enough - to endure them no matter what.

I took a few moments to get the feel of the bounds I was wearing. The plug continued to intrude upon my attention; the waist chain was quite snug and tight through my crotch, pulling every time I moved my legs; the nipple chain swung slowly back and forth, applying the slightest amount of pain and sensation to my excited nipples. I pulled on a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed the bucket and went out into the hall. There was a group of people walking right by my room, and I almost went back in, but they showed no sign of noticing me. I imagined my mistress berating me and demanding I get her ice, so down the hall I went, nipples and ass reminding me constantly of the presence of my toys. I got a full bucket of ice and came back to my room.

Again - I was a slave, remember - I took off the shorts and shirt, and the clamps, and got my other equipment for this scene. I grabbed the leg irons, some padlocks, paper clip - for setting the double locks - harness gag, posture collar, parachute cord, my clover clamps, and handcuffs. I didn’t get the hinged cuffs, as those were far too restrictive for me in this setting – I would not be able to unlock them behind my back, lacking the requisite flexibility. These were normal handcuffs with a short chain between. Incidentally, for self-bondage the handcuffs I use are ASP Ultra-steel. They are great because they have keyholes on both sides, making it impossible to get stuck by having the cuffs face the wrong way. I had modified my clamps to be even more severe, by wrapping a rubber band around each one several times, increasing their bite and grip.

First, I wrapped the chain of the leg irons snugly around my balls and fastened them in place with a padlock. Now when I walked around the room, they dangled and tugged on my sack, not painfully yet, but soon. Next, I took the parachute cord, tied it to the top of the leg iron chain, and fed it through the padlock underneath, which caused the cord to split my balls apart when pulled.

Now was the time for the gag and posture collar. The harness was sturdy leather, so I first pulled it over my head to get is set in place, and then tugged each strap snug. The harness pushed the 2-inch ball deeply into my mouth – it wasn’t going anywhere. This alone reduced the range of motion I had with my head. I breathed heavily through my nose. I picked up the collar and buckled it around my neck, placing a small padlock through the buckle. When my hands were bound, it would be completely unnecessary, but the idea of locking on restraints definitely got me fired up. I picked up a snap hook and clipped it to the ring hanging from the front of my gag. I left the parachute cord for now.

Now was the time to try the clamps. I picked up the clover clamps and held them for a moment. My nipples were still sensitive from the tweezer clamps – perfect. I grabbed my left nipple and pulled it out. With my other hand I squeezed the clamp open, and set it well behind the nipple, so it would grip well, and gently let it close over the tender flesh.

I let out a gasp. Holy shit! That’s intense! I had never worn these clamps modified as they were before. I took a few deep breaths and closed the other clamp over my right nipple. I closed my eyes and let the chain hang for a moment, breathing deep and fast. I would take them off in a moment, but I needed to test something. I lifted the chain, which pulled the clamps around, and clipped it to the snap hook on my gag. One last breath and I shook my head as hard as I could, swinging the chain, and the clamps, back and forth.

Oh my god! Will I be able to stand this? The chain swung violently, and the clamps danced viciously, yanking my nipples back and forth, but they held fast. I gently reached up and squeezed them open at the same time, gasping again as they were released. I sat very still for a moment, and then grinned wickedly behind the gag.

Now it was time to get myself even more excited for my game, or as I was thinking of it, for my mistress to sexually torture me, bringing me to the edge of orgasm and leaving me begging for relief. I grabbed the handcuffs and got a pair of nipple pumps and a cock ring off the bed. I placed one over a nipple and turned the knob. This pulled up the plunger, pulling my tender flesh far into the tube, engorging it and rendering it even more sensitive. I applied the second and left my nipples to swell. I grabbed my bottle of lube and put on the handcuffs. I got a dollop of the viscous fluid and gently spread it over my already-rising cock, sliding the ring down to the base. I moved my cuffed hand up and down the trapped shaft languorously, growing harder by the moment but deliberately keeping my hands slow. When I got very close, I stopped, imagining my mistress grinning at my distress. I pleaded with her. Please, Mistress, may your slave come? She would reply, No, you have work to do, slave. Now get to it! My cock remained stiff and upright, throbbing slowly. I let out a quick breath. It’s time, I thought as I wiped my hands on a nearby towel.

To set up my release, I would have to be able to stand, so I unlocked my legs and hands and took off the gag and collar to allow my head to move so I could see. This left the leg irons hanging loose from my balls along with the parachute cord; I locked the handcuffs behind my back with another padlock, leaving them hanging as well. I left the nipple pumps on for the time being, feeling their pull increasing moment to moment.

I got up on a chair and hung the metal ring for my release from the fire sprinkler on the ceiling. That would keep my keys well out of reach while I waited for the ice to melt. There was also nothing in the room I could use to bat at the keys, like a broom, to hasten the process. Once the ice went in, I would wait for it to melt and fall through. Since three cubes took almost an hour, I decided to start with two, which I guessed would take maybe thirty minutes. I grabbed two solid-looking cubes from the bucket and put them in the stocking, which I then passed through the ring. I attached my handcuff keys to the other end of the stocking along with a metal weight. The ice was already starting to drip in the hot room. I must have been quite a sight – naked except for my ridiculous socks, leg irons hanging from my balls, chain tight around my waist and through my ass, pumps sucking greedily on my nipples, cock standing at attention incredibly hard. But I didn’t care; I was ready.

I went back to the other side of the room where my loose toys lay and sat back down. I wanted to enjoy the entire process, so I began slowly. I pulled off the nipple pumps and looked at my nipples, now easily three times as large as they normally were, and even more sensitive. I pulled my legs in and gently clicked the irons closed around each ankle, setting the double lock with my paper clip. I then took a padlock and clipped both feet close together. I took a moment to enjoy the gradually increasing bondage by stretching my legs a little bit and feeling the pull on my balls. They were going nowhere. In fact, with my feet now bound like this, even at this point I would be stuck until the keys dropped, as I would be unable to stand and reach them.

Next was the harness gag. I loved the feel of this, so I again took my time putting it on. I pulled it over my head, setting the ball deep in my mouth, and began pulling the various straps closed. I was able to get an extra notch on one of the straps, and it pulled tight around my head, already restricting my movement. Next, I slowly picked up the collar and buckled it around my neck with the D-ring in the front, making sure it wasn’t tight enough to restrict my breathing. A small padlock again ensured it would not come off until I could stand up and reach the keys in the closet again. I luxuriated in the feel of the padded leather around my neck, making all but the smallest movement of my head impossible. A quick glance at the keys showed me that the ice was already starting to drip on the floor.

Now was the time to use the parachute cord. I grabbed it and made sure it was still splitting my balls in half and fed it through the D-ring on the front of the collar. I pulled it down until I was somewhat bent over and tied the cord off. Now if I tried to sit up straight or lean back, the parachute cord would pull painfully on my balls, even more so than the metal chain attached to my leg irons.

I was getting close and starting to feel butterflies in my stomach. I had checked the release many times – I knew it would work. But how long would I be trapped? There was no way to know for sure; I only knew it would be less than an hour with the two ice cubes.

I picked up the clover clamps and looked at them. I swung the chain a bit and rubbed it on my swollen nipples. I was breathing fast and shaking a little bit. This was going to be it. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder. I took one clamp, squeezed it open, pulled out my right nipple (god were they sensitive!) and hovered it over, ready to close, and . . .

CLINK! The keys dropped already!

Goddammit! I thought. Why did it have to go that fast? Stupid! Stupid!

I let out a grunt of frustration and dropped the clamps on the ground. I began to scooch over the floor towards the keys – I would have to reset it to really do this scene. Even with my hands free, dragging myself across the floor was slow going. Each shift pulled on my balls and ensured I could progress only a very few inches at a time. It took me about ten minutes to cross the fifteen feet of the room to my keys. I looked at them with disgust and unlocked my feet, also untying the parachute cord from my collar. I could now stand up, and I got the keys to the padlocks from the shelf in the closet and unlocked my collar and the lock between the ankle cuffs. I removed the collar, gag and took them with the padlocks and tossed them unceremoniously back to the other side of the room.

I imagined my mistress berating me for this mistake. You fucked it up! One simple job! You stupid bitch, you’re going to suffer now!

With that, I picked up the stocking and attached keys. I removed the keys and went to the ice bucket. I quickly grabbed four ice cubes from the bucket and shoved them brusquely into the end of the stocking. I stood up on the chair and pulled the stocking through the ring, feeling the ice catch and preventing it from going through until the four cubes melted enough. I again attached the handcuff keys to the end of the stocking and put the rest up in the closet.

I went back to my pile of toys, frustrated, excited and horny. I had probably wasted twenty minutes ‘enjoying’ my increasing bondage on the last go, which caused me to be unable to really enjoy my bondage at all. This time I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I sat down and got to work, moving quickly but carefully. The last thing I wanted to do was forget something and ruin it again.

I started again with my ankles. The leg irons ratcheted much more quickly this time, and I set the double locks with the paper clip. I immediately followed that with the padlock, fastening my feet together again. Next, I picked up the gag. You’re going to get it now, I told myself. I pulled the gag quickly over my head, setting the ball deep in my mouth and pulling the straps closed. This time I pulled each strap as hard as I could before buckling them shut. The gag was more restrictive than ever, and the good quality leather held up. Over my neck went the posture collar, and its small padlock. I fed the parachute cord through the collar’s ring, pulling it a little shorter this time, forcing me over even further if I wanted to keep from splitting my balls in two.

I was almost there. I grabbed the clamps. I looked at them briefly. Can I handle them? I thought. How bad will they get? Before I could chicken out, I grabbed my left nipple and pulled it out. I set the clamp well to the back, grabbing a lot of flesh and making sure it would not be shaken off easily. The bite was intense. I stopped for a moment, taking several quick, shallow breaths. I repeated the process with the other nipple. Working quickly now to prevent myself from backing out, I pulled the chain up and clipped it to the gag’s snap hook. I could feel them twist a bit more, sending new shocks through my nipples.

This was it.

I could stop now, I thought.

No, dammit! You’re too close! This is what you want! You’ve come too far! Do it! Do it!

I reached my left hand behind me and closed the cuff around it. I slowly counted nine clicks. I grabbed the paper clip from nearby and set the double lock. I did the same with my right hand. Nine clicks. This time it was a bit of a struggle to set the double lock, but I had practiced.







I shook my head a bit, to see if I could dislodge the clamps again. Again, they held fast and simply twisted and pulled my now-throbbing nipples. I instinctively tried to reach up to the clamps with my right hand, only to be stopped short. The cuff entrapped my wrist inescapably and was further securely fastened to the small of my back. I wouldn’t be reaching those clamps with my hands any time soon. I shook my head again, this time whimpering a bit as the clamps simply pulled.


I had done it. ‘Really’ done it. Bound myself totally and without hope of escape. I started to scooch across the floor to where the keys hung high in the air, though ‘scooch’ implies a speed I was entirely incapable of. I could only move my legs out an inch, and then push my ass forward with my hands. It was tortuously slow, and it must have taken fifteen minutes this time to traverse the floor. But finally, I was underneath the keys, and could feel the water drip, drip, drip from the melting ice. Once more I shook my head. The clamps once more simply held on and pulled and twisted, sending new shocks through me. I was beginning to regret putting them on. I wanted them off; I wanted to rub my sore nipples. I began to struggle in earnest, tugging at the cuffs and leg irons. Each bond was arranged so that any movement of my body caused pain in my most sensitive areas.

How long will it be? I thought. I was realizing that I really had to just sit, suffer and wait for the keys. I tried counting the drips as they fell on me. I got to 63 when the drips stopped. I started to freak out, thinking something had gone wrong. I seriously considered moving over to the door and screaming until someone came to my rescue. Then the drips started again. I thought that must be at least the amount of one ice cube already. I shook my head again, but the clamps just mocked me with their tenacity. I pulled on my hands again, but the cuffs denied me any but the slightest movement. My thoughts started to spin in my head. I needed to get some control, even though I had none, or I would lose my mind. I couldn’t just sit and focus on the restriction and pain. To concentrate on the time passing, I began to count my breaths, which brought me here.

Breathe in, breathe out – three.

Breathe in, breathe out – four.

Breathe in, breathe out – five.

Breathe in, breathe out – Jesus. Six.

I faced the wall and rested my head on it – the only way to relax my body in this position without pulling on something sensitive. I could feel the drips continuing. I continued to count my breaths. I tried to keep my head still. I thought that maybe the cuffs were just loose enough to pull my hands out if I really tried. It felt like perhaps the right cuff was a little looser. Keeping my head still, I twisted and pulled on my right hand as hard as I could. It hurt, but I thought if I could get out and bruises or sores would be worth it. Each Pull and twist yanked on the chain, pulling between my legs and disturbing the plug in my bottom. God, I want that fucking thing out! I thought, futilely as always. It turned out that I was too clever when binding myself. I had practiced and considered and planned, and I was not getting out before those keys dropped. I slumped against the wall.

Breathe in, breathe out – thirty-seven.

Breathe in, breathe out – thirty-eight.

Breathe in, brea . . . CLINK!

“Nnnnnnhh! Nnnnnnh! Nnnnnnnh!” I squealed. The keys had dropped. They bounced off my shoulder and landed a few feet away from me. Heedless now of the pain, I wriggled over to them as fast as my restrained body would let me. My thoughts were a jumble. Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! Thank you! Thank you! I didn’t even know who I was thanking, but it was sincere. I reached for the keys and got them into my hand. I maneuvered the key into the right position and began to search for the keyhole. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I stopped and took a deep breath. I had the keys in my hand. I knew from practice I could easily unlock the cuffs. I just had to relax – not an easy task in my current state.

It took a few tries. I dropped the keys twice and grunted angrily. But eventually I felt the key slide into the whole and twisted it round. My left hand popped free! I let out a huge sigh.

I reached up to the clamps that had been tormenting me for who knew how long (at least four hundred and thirty-eight breaths). I grasped the first clamp and squeezed, releasing my trapped nipple. OOOOOHHHHH SHIT! OW! OW! OW! OW! The stories weren’t kidding when they said clamps were worse coming off. My breath was shallow and fast. I reached for the other clamp and did the same thing. AAAAAAHHHHHH! Oh my god! FUCK! I let the clamps hang from the gag and sagged, one hand still trapped behind me by the cuffs.

I now slowly moved to release the rest of my bonds, nipples continuing to pulse savagely. I unlocked my other hand from the cuffs and left them. I then untied the parachute cord and sat up straight for the first time since beginning my ‘adventure.’ I grabbed the handcuff keys and unlocked the leg irons next, stretching my legs out slowly, savoring the feeling. I then pulled off the cock ring that had been gripping my shaft this whole time. Now I had to stand up to retrieve the rest of my keys from the closet. Leaning against the wall I slowly stood. I got the keyring for my padlocks and first unlocked the chain that had been gripping my balls this whole time. Relief flooded through me.

I next unlocked the collar and removed it and the harness gag. I rolled my head on my shoulders, stretching my neck. The final bind I had to remove was the waist chain. I unlocked it and dropped it to the floor, then squatted down and began to gently remove my butt plug, which came out with a ‘pop.’

I flopped down on the floor, stretching my arms and legs, free for the first time. I sat up and reached for my phone on the nightstand and checked the time. I had been bound for about an hour and twenty minutes. I let out a “whew!” and lay back down.

I had done it. The “real deal.” Far more intense than I had expected. But everything had worked out. I gently rubbed my nipples. God, they hurt! I would have to wait a while before any nipple play again. My imaginary mistress stood over me.

Very good, slave. You have pleased me.

Thank you, mistress, may I come now? My hand slid down to my cock and I began to slowly caress it.

Not yet. There is more work yet for you to do.

I grinned and started to think of other possibilities.


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