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Sammy Joe’s Barnyard Self-Bondage 4

by Hagster

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© Copyright 2003 - Hagster - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; con; X


Sammy Joe’s Barnyard Self-Bondage - Chapter 4
by Hagster
Sammy Joe’s Barnyard Self-Bondage Part SevenWill They Ever Leave?
Part Seven
Will They Ever Leave?

Good grief will Sunday ever come?  And here I was on a Friday night, in my room, listening to talk radio.  Boyfriend hundreds of miles away doing Lord knows what with God knows who, unwilling to pleasure myself while waiting for Sunday to arrive, and going over yet again the plans I was devising for myself.  I unlocked my “hope chest” to take inventory of what I had amassed and possibly of what I had forgotten.  I retrieved an old pair of sweatpants from a dresser drawer and grabbed my scissors.  I wouldn’t need to be fully clothed, yet wanted some amount of protection from the restraints.  Bondage need not be uncomfortable and I detest chafing.  I snipped the legs of the sweatpants off at the knees, threw them and a large white cotton tee shirt back into the chest and locked it.  Nothing left to do now but wait, some more.

Another restless night’s sleep, though not quite so chilly.  I decided to forego a shower or bath Saturday morning and get to the task of helping the parental units prepare for the next morning’s exodus.  Mom and I did a couple loads of laundry and packed some suitcases while Dad and Joe washed and cleaned the truck inside and out.  Joe’s wife Heather was in their mobile home packing their clothing and getting their home cleaned and readied for their departure.  Later she would come over and prepare the food and beverages and get the coolers cleaned, cooled, and readied for the trip.  

We all worked at a fairly constant pace throughout the morning, and decided to wait until later in the afternoon to have a bite to eat.  All of our chores were completed and Dad and Joe made a quick cruise around the fields in one of the work trucks making sure the farm was buttoned up.  After having a nice meal, we all carted the suitcases and coolers out to the pickup.  Joe and Heather went home for the evening and Mom and Dad retired to the living room, Mom to read one of her novels and Dad to watch his favorite Saturday evening programming on FOX.  I on the other hand went up to my sanctuary to watch a little TV and make a phone call.

“Helloooo,” a familiar voice answered on the end of the line.

“Hey, bitch, whatcha up to?” I laughed back.

There was a short pause as Kristen figured out who was taunting her through the receiver.  “Oh, the usual.  Mel Gibson’s on TV and I’m tormenting the cat.”  I was afraid to ask just what she meant with that little piece of information!  “Are you alone yet?”

“No.  We’ve got everything packed and ready to go.  All that’s left is to get everyone showered and clothed and out the door first thing in the morning.  Then it’s mine, all mine for a week!”  The anticipation was starting to become annoying.

“So, you gonna have me over sometime?  Tomorrow would be great!  I don’t have anything to do and I’m reeeaallllly bored,” she almost cooed over the phone.

“Gee, thanks for voting me “Miss Excitement”.  I was quite sarcastic.  “I doubt we’ll be digging up bodies or jumping nude from airplanes, but perhaps we can watch some movies or something, I mean, if that’s not too boring.”

Kristen kind of hummed for a moment as if lost in thought.  “I suppose that will be sufficient, this time.  Next time, however, try to be a little more original and accommodating, okay?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She briefly giggled, mischievously I might add.  “So we’re on for tomorrow, then?  How about Trish?”

“Yeah, we’re all on for tomorrow,” I kept a sigh to myself.  “Tell you what.  I’ll call you around noon and we’ll set a time and you and Trish can bring a pizza or something.  Just be sure and wait for me to call first.  I’ve got some chores and such to finish first and I want to be sure they’re done before you guys come out, okay?”  

Kristen kept her answer short and sweet.  “No problemo.  I’ll call Trish and relay the info.”  I know she knew that something was up.  It was going to be hard to keep her in the dark.  “So, heard from Allen lately?” she added.  Why did she keep asking me about Allen?  She’s fishing for something.

“No, no letter or phone call or anything else,” I responded curtly.  Why hadn’t he called?  I was starting to get a little upset thinking about it.

“Any other studs in the stable?  Huuhhhh, huuhhhh?” she mocked in her best Ted Knight voice.

Aha!  She thought I would be entertaining a gentleman friend and keeping him while my parents were away.  “I am not a slut!  What kind of a girl do you think I am?” I laughed.  I hadn’t even thought about having a guy out, and besides Allen was in Wyoming.  I had other plans.  “No, really.  No guy, just chores. Honest.”

“Well, okay then.  You are a slut, though, and don’t deny it!”

“Yeah, well don’t go blabbing it around, okay?”

“Okay.  I’ll call Trish and wait for your call tomorrow.”  I swear she knows I’m hiding something.

“Talk to you tomorrow, then.  Say goodbye to Mel for me.”

“Goodbye, Mel,” Kristen finished as she hung up her phone.  I laughed out loud.

I got up from the chair and replaced the handset in the cradle, turned down the bed, turned up the TV, turned off the lights, and stripped off my clothes.  The cool sheets felt sooo good, and sure enough Mel was strutting his stuff across the screen.  Back to back to back Gibson on Saturday night TV.  Not a bad way to drift off to sleep.  My cat needed tormenting as well.

Mom cracked the door open around 5:30 Sunday morning.  The sun was still down, and I was sound asleep so she gently nudged me from my slumber and kissed my cheek.  “We’re leaving now, Honey.  We’ll stop by Joe’s and pick them up on our way.  You’ve got our number if you need anything.  Take care.”

“Okay, Mom.  You guys be careful.  See you in a week.  I love you.”  I was still half-asleep.  The words rolled off my tongue by rote.

“I love you, too.  And you be careful.”  She kissed my cheek again and closed the door behind her as she left.  A few moments later I heard a diesel engine belch to life and pull away into the distance.  Free at last, free at lastů  I would try to get a few more hours of shuteye.  I would need my strength.

Sammy Joe’s Barnyard Self-Bondage
Part Eight - Down to Business

Mom had kissed me goodbye and the farm had been left in my tender care.  All alone, I am now the master (mistress) of all I survey.  Those extra few hours of sleep should help me with my planned “session”.  My bedroom was chilly as usual as I threw back the covers and made contact with the wood floor.  My bare feet arched with revulsion.  Cold feet would be the least of my worries this day.  I jumped into my slippers and grabbed my bathrobe.  A hot shower would be the day’s first ritual.

It took a while to realize why the house was so dark.  A look out of the window confirmed my suspicions; a storm was brewing in the distance and the sky was clabbered up with clouds.  Ooohh, I just love a nice summer storm, nothing serious or destructive, but with a nice cooling effect with thunder and lightning.  Some things kind of set the mood, you know?  It wouldn’t take long for the rain to start, and with any luck I should be ready to begin the day’s festivities before it arrived. 

After completing the morning’s hygiene regimen, (I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail), I made my way to the kitchen.  I thought to myself about eating a snack, but decided against it.  Just a small glass of juice and some water would probably be all I should have.  So much for breakfast.  With the glasses put into the sink, I climbed the stairs and went back into my bedroom.  9:00 AM and time to get ready.  It shouldn’t take too long, but that was one thing I hadn’t considered.

Well, here goes nothing.  I suppose it would be silly to reconsider after all of the time and effort spent accumulating and manufacturing all of my restraints, much less all of my mental preparations and anxious anticipation.  I unlocked my chest and placed all of the gear and accouterments on the bed.  I assorted all of the locks by key commonality and put one of each key on one key ring, my master set, then made a second identical set.  As with most packages of keyed-alike padlocks, each lock came with a key of its own, so there were several keys left.  I put the loose ones (except for one) into a small box and placed the box back into the chest.  I put the lone key onto a ring by itself.  It would be the only one I would need to take with me.

Crunch time.  Letting my bathrobe fall onto the floor, I strapped the nylon belt around my waist and cinched both buckles tightly on either side.  Grabbing two identical small suitcase locks, I ran the hasps through a hole in the strap nearest the buckles and locked them.  My waist was encircled with two dog collars locked together at the sides with a steel ring in front and one in the back.  Then it was time for the crotch portion, which would complete the assembly.  I had riveted a short length of nylon strap between the steel rings of the pussy insert and the butt plug, which would run across my taint, and fed one end of the two dog collars without the steel rings through the other side of each ring.  One of these straps would be fed through the ring at the back of the waist belt (for the butt plug) and the ring in front (for the pussy insert).  I reached for my vibrator and twisted and pushed it into the pussy insert.  The rubber acted like a gasket and held the 8 inch “facial massager” firmly in place.  Grabbing a tube of KY, I liberally applied a coating to the plug and vibrator assemblies.  Since the vibrator was rigid and longer, I decided to insert this tormentor first.  The pointed shaft made contact with my pussy lips and I shuddered at the intrusion of this cold, alien invader.  Only between five and six inches of its length would actually be inside of me, with the remainder of its base being left outside of the retaining gasket and metal ring.  Oh, God it felt so good.  I ran the end of the nylon collar through the front ring and loosely buckled the strap.  Half-finished, I touched the end of the plug to my rim and gently manipulated my bunghole and maneuvered the plug into my anus.  It was not quite as easy as I had imagined.  It was pretty flexible being filled with jelly and all, and required a lot of effort.  Besides, I had never used a plug before and the reverse sensation was difficult to get used to.  I had to try really hard not to expel the thing, but I was finally able to accomplish my goal.  Boy, talk about a weird sensation!  Kind of feel like a clogged sink, here.  Not entirely uncomfortable, yet extremely filling.  I ran the rear collar end through the ring on the back of my waist belt and loosely buckled the ends together.  I had to tighten each crotch strap one notch at a time until I had set each to a tight, yet comfortable tension, ran each loose end through its buckle, and ran a small lock through their strap holes nearest the buckle.  It took several minutes, but finally my sex had been secured against manual stimulation.  I was on my way.  The hard part finished, I grabbed my sweatpants and tee shirt.

I slipped my left foot through the opening, then my right and pulled the sweatpants up over my hips, covering the chastity belt.  I tugged it as high as I could, then donned my tee shirt and left it on the outside of the pants.  It hung down to my thighs.  This should do nicely as protection against chafing.  The next appliance would be the lower harness assembly.  I took both matching nylon halters and slipped my left foot through the first and pulled it up to my waist, then did the same with my right.  I loosely buckled both together around my waist, in front and in back, then tightened the halter straps around both thighs, then the two just above my knees.  Next, I cinched the two straps snugly around my waist and locked each with one of the small locks, just behind each buckle.  Wow, this was beginning to get good.  

Next came the large halter which I pulled on over my head with the under jaw strap running down the middle of my back and placing each arm between it and the side snout straps, buckling the halter in front, tightly around my waist.  The mid strap was fastened snugly under my breasts, and I tightened the muzzle strap around my neck.  After each was cinched to my liking, I placed a small lock next to each buckle and locked myself in.  

The steel ring in the back of my torso harness matched with a steel “D” ring from the lower harness, and I slipped one end each of two five foot lengths of chain through the hasp of a padlock and locked them all together, then fastened the other ends of the chain to the steel “D” ring at the front of my neck.   I would use this chain to lock onto my wrist cuffs later.  The steel rings on either side of the torso harness matched up nicely with the steel rings from the lower harness at either side of my waist and I secured them together with two other of the matching padlocks but left them unlocked.  At the front of my body harness, I grabbed one of the 3 inch steel rings I had bought at the hardware store and fastened the torso harness “D” ring to the lower assembly “D” ring with one of the matching padlocks.  Wow, inescapable!  There would be absolutely no way out of this mess without either sharp knife or key, neither of which I would have until I made my way back to my bedroom.  The sky was becoming increasingly dark. 

I then reached for two of the larger metal cuffs I had formed from barn door hinges.  I had already fitted the suede leather sheaths around all of the cuffs I had made.  Grabbing two similar padlocks and two lengths of five-foot chain, I started to bend down to fasten the cuffs around my slender, bare ankles.  Ooohh, that didn’t feel just right.  The two intruders between my legs got into kind of a bind.  I think they shook hands.  I had to rethink my strategy.  It was quite a bit less strenuous to rest the outside of my right knee on the edge of the bed and lift my right ankle in order to lock on the homemade shackle.  I inserted the lock’s hasp through a chain link, leaving about six inches dangling free from the lock, and fastened the ends of the shackle together with the padlock.  Nice sound, those metallic clicks; unyielding and secure.  I grabbed the long end of the chain locked to my ankle and lowered my foot to the floor, then flipped the body of the open lock at the side of my waist and fished the lock through a chain link, leaving the chain now running from the side of my waist to the ankle shackle intentionally short, just short enough that I was unable to fully extend my leg.  Another click.  I repeated the process with my left leg and ankle, and left the two six inch lengths of chain running from each ankle unlockedů for now.  Almost finished.

The two remaining cuffs were smaller than the previous two and would be used to lock onto my wrists.  These also had the suede leather sheaths I had made already fitted.  I slipped one over my left wrist and inserted the lock through the holes in the ends of the cuff, not yet locking it, and did the same with my right wrist.  I couldn’t forget the gag!  I grabbed the contraption and slipped the hollow, soft rubber tube into my mouth and fished the strap around the back of my neck, loosely buckling the ends together.  I had to reach back with both hands in order to pull my long, auburn hair out from underneath the strap, not wanting my hair to be pinched or pulled.  I then cinched the strap tightly and ran the free end of the strap through the buckle.  It didn’t feel too bad.  I couldn’t spit out the gag or even maneuver my tongue in order to push it out, and the pinched metal ring on the outside of my lips molded fairly nicely to the area of my mouth just below my nose and above my chin.  Not only could I not remove the gag, but also I could still breathe normally and would be in no danger of strangling, a BIG plus.  I grabbed one of the small locks and inserted it through a hole of the strap closest to the buckle.  Another, though softer click.  

The only thing left unsecured were my wrists, and this was done quite easily by grabbing the chain fastened from my neck and running down the left side of my chest to the back of my waist and locking the left manacle at its midway point, then repeating with the opposite chain and right wrist manacle.  

At last, my bondage was complete, until the final stage, that is  All those many days of anxious thought and plotting, my plans of self-bound torment were finally coming to fruition.  The brief flashes of light in the distance were now becoming more brilliant and frequent, and were now accompanied with the audible sound of the rumblings of thunder.  Talk about perfect timing.  This was almost too good to be true!  I reached over to the bed and grasped the key ring with the sole key I would need (along with the four padlocks it would fit), two other padlocks to which the key would not fit, and the remaining 3 inch metal ring and dumped them all into a bag to carry with me.  I previously had decided to take a comforter along with me on my trip to the barn for some padding on the floor, reached into the closet to pull a suitable one off the shelf, and wrapped it around my semi-clothed and bound body.  I walked awkwardly through the bedroom door and carefully made my way down the stairwell.  Even without my ankles being chained together, the trip through the barnyard and into the barn would be slow and fatiguing at best.  As I stepped off the porch, I could feel a few drops of rain on my exposed flesh.  I’d better make haste if I were to make it to the barn before the sky opened up.

Sammy Joe’s Barnyard Self-Bondage
Part Nine - The Barn Loft

Here I stand at the end of the concrete path from the driveway to the front porch.  Rain beginning to fall, chained hand and foot, gagged, crotch filled with rubber and plastic, covered with a blanket, and the pet dog jumping all over me.

I tried as best I could to order Al away, but all that came through the gag must have sounded like an invitation to frolic.  It was nearly impossible to kick him away because of the chains, but I was finally able to convey that I wished to be left alone.  Just like a male, he soon found other things to arouse his interest.  He trotted off and laid down under a bush and began to “groom’ himself.  Very nice.  I could only imagine that given the ability, Allen would prefer his own company to that of mine, much as Al does licking himself.  What a pig!  

I had several yards to go to reach the barn, so I began the trek.  I tried to hurry, but being as I did not have full use of my legs, hampered, as they were to say the least, I was struggling at best.  The wet grass felt really good against my feet, but the enjoyment was soon lost as I reached the gravel driveway.  Rocks and sharp stones might not bother those with shoes, but my bare feet were causing me to suffer some discomfort.  Luckily, I still had limited use of my arms to help me balance the couple of times that I stumbled.  The driveway wasn’t too wide, however, and I made my way across it and reached the grass on the other side.  My crotch was beginning to show signs of rebellion at its torture.  The constant movement was starting to stir feelings of arousal in my pussy and a familiar aroma was wafting up from underneath the blanket.  The trip was tiring, and luckily the barn door revealed itself as I rounded the corner of the large structure.  The rain was becoming heavier at this point, so I reached out for the handle and opened the wooden door.  An 18-inch tall foundation ran underneath the perimeter of the old barn, so I had to carefully step over the threshold to enter the barn.  The chains attached from my waist to each ankle prevented me from accomplishing this seemingly simple task with ease.  Luckily I had decided to keep my ankles unlocked until a later time.  I had to use the doorframe to lean on and was able to make my way inside and latched the door behind me.

There I stood inside of the back of the barn.  The main corridor ran down the middle of the length of the barn to a large, double door at the other end, large enough to accommodate all manner of large equipment.  The corridor was wide and fairly tall, about twelve feet to the overhead joists.  The floor had a thin layer of hay and straw strewn about, and the entire lower level was quite dark, with the storm clouds outside blocking the sun making it even more so.  Several stalls and a storeroom were on either side of the central corridor, but all were empty this time of year.  It was all very peaceful and eerie at the same time.  I hobbled to the far end of the barn where there was a faint shaft of light coming from above through on opening in the ceiling.  A sturdy, wooden ladder extended from the floor up through the opening into a framed-in support structure, which extended all the way from either side of the opening to the ceiling of the vaulted loft, with the front side of the barn forming the third wall.  The open side of the structure faced the expanse of the barn loft.  Running along the length of the underside of the roof was a steel rail track, which ran out the front of the barn and underneath an overhanging gable.  Attached to the rail was a wheeled trolley, to which we could affix hoists, rope, or whatever, to lift bales, equipment, feed bags, among other things.

A very large door hinged at the bottom was hanging open on the outside of the barn at the top of the side of the barn, underneath the gable.  This was from where the light was coming.  The rain was starting to get heavier and was pounding on the tin roof.  I just love the roar of rain from inside the barn as it strikes the metal cladding!  I dropped the comforter to the floor and had to kneel down in order to spread it out underneath the loft access opening.  There, that should give me something more comfortable to rest on later.  I stood back up and grabbed a few lengths of baling twine which hang over nearly every railing in the barn, and used one length to tie the bag containing the locks and such to my harness so they would not be separated from me.  The other twine I drooped about my neck.  I turned to the wooden ladder and looked up.  This would not be easy!  I lifted my left foot and placed it on the lowest rung and leaned into the ladder to grasp a higher rung with both hands.  The rungs were obviously not designed for use without footwear.  My arches were punished by the edges of the wooden rungs.  The chains attached to my wrist manacles allowed me just enough movement to climb one rung at a time, if I kept my body pressed closely to the ladder.  One foot, one hand, the other foot, the other hand, one at a time, one rung after the other, reaching, straining, until finally I reached the edge of the floor above.  The ladder extended up past the opening and as I cleared the trap door, I stepped off the ladder onto the wood floor, pulled the twine from around my neck and laid them on the floor, and walked toward the center of the loft.  

As humid as it was, and with all of the exertion I had endured climbing into the loft, I had worked up a pretty good sweat.  I shook my head from side to side to clear the damp hair clinging to my face.  Wished I had a towel to dry my face, but had to suffer the consequences, whatever they may be.  I had visited here a couple of times earlier in the week to prep some of the paraphernalia I would be using.  I opened the bag hanging from my harness and picked out the large metal ring within.  Hanging from the overhead trolley was a block and tackle hoist rigged with hemp rope.  I had attached a twist tie towards the end of the rope, and pushed a loop of the rope with the tie through the ring, then threaded the free end of the rope through the loop and pulled out the slack.  The ring was now attached to the rope at a previously determined location.  I then fished one of the padlocks from the bag and grabbed the dangling end of the pulley block and locked the mounting bracket at the bottom to the large ring attached to the front of the body harness at the front of my waist.  So far, so good, just a few more steps to complete my captivity.  I walked back over to the trap door, pulling the overhead trolley along with me, and knelt at its edge.  It was time to complete the restraint of my ankles.  I had to lie on my back in order to grab the two loose ends of the chain running from each ankle shackle, and locked them together with the lock to which key was in my bedroom.  The walk back to the house would be much more difficult, but at least I wouldn’t have to climb the ladder again.  I struggled back to my knees and grabbed two more locks from the bag.  First came the length of chain running from the right side of my waist to my right ankle and I shortened the chain by pulling out the slack and running the padlock through two of the links, thereby shortening the chain and preventing me from extending my leg.  I repeated the procedure with the left chain.  It was now impossible for me to stand, with my legs doubled under and ankles locked together.  

I was breathing fairly hard at that moment and tried to calm down.  Drool was dripping from my gagged mouth and was being soaked up by my tee shirt.  I managed to take several deep breaths and regain some composure.  Did I really want to do this?  It would be easy enough to hoist myself down and unlock my legs, and struggle back to the warmth and comfort of my home.  But, no.  This should prove to be a satisfying and fulfilling experience.  Time to take the plunge, so to speak.  I took the remaining two padlocks and used one to lock the ring on the loose end of the rope to the large ring at the front of my waist, took firm hold of the pulley rope and pulled out the slack, enough to slightly lift me off the floor, and used what little freedom I still had in my legs and feet to push myself into the middle of the open trap door.  The trolley rolled on its tracks, and there I was suspended in mid-air, slightly swinging side to side and back and forth.  I am a genius!  

I slowly lowered myself down through the trap door until the rope reached its maximum extension to where I had fastened the ring to the rope, which was locked to the ring at the front of my waist.  The rope was then of no use, so I let the end fall to the ground.  It would be nearly impossible for me to hoist myself back up into the loft because of the lack of leverage I had in my arms.  Looking in front of me I spied the length of twine I had previously tied to a hook in the wall.  I shifted the weight of my body back and forth and was slowly able to swing myself to the twine and grabbed it.  This piece of baler twine would be the integral part of my escape mechanism.  I slipped the twine through the key ring holding the sole key able to free me from my self-induced bondage session, tied the free end of the twine to the large ring at my waist, and pulled myself using the twine back over towards the hook and slid the key ring over the hook.  That way, I wouldn’t accidentally drop the only means to my escape.  I let go of the twine and allowed myself to swing back into the middle of the corridor under the trap door.  Only two more things to do.  I strained at my bonds and inched my fingers toward the vibrator in my pussy.  I managed to twist the base through the sweat pants fabric and the tormentor sprang to life.  I quickly grabbed the remaining odd padlock and fastened my wrists together around the outside of the pulley block and rope.  Click.  My bondage was finally complete.  It would be a marathon session depending only upon my stamina.  How long would I be able to stand the intense stimulation?  Only time would tell.
 

                                                     More to Come in Part Ten
                                                                     Oops
 
 

10.06.03

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