Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Straitjacket Selfbondage2

by Philber

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© Copyright 2009 - Philber - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; straitjacket; legsack; hogtie; stuck; true; cons; X

continued from part 1

Part 2

Now, if I could write this story, it is obvious that I could (and did) get ouf my straight-jacket self-hogtie. First, I tried to escape. It is my favorite activity, and, clearly, I had earned the right to do so. I thought that, maybe, the fact that my arms were not strapped very tightly behind my back and not threaded through the side loops would give me a chance. But that was without counting the chest strap and the pinion straps. First, I tried to see if, thanks to the slack in the sleeve straps, I could grab one of the buckles and somehow, even without seeing what I was doing, and without much feeling or dexterity thanks to the thick leather mitts that terminate my SJ's sleeves, still manage to undo one of the buckles. If I could, it was game over, in the positive sense. But, even though the straps weren't pulled tight at all, I couldn't even come close. As if the SJ designer had kept this in mind when putting it together...

My next attempt was to try and pull my arms out of the sleeves, again taking advantage of the slack.  The way to do that is to maximise the slack with one arm, so as to give the other the possibility to slip out of the sleeve. That was thwarted by the pinion straps, which limited any arm movement towards the chest. I could move one arm a couple of inches out of the sleeve, but that is far from enough to get the elbow out, which is the critical issue. And, unlike the first method, which was more "touchy-feely", this one required serious struggling. So, while it was unsuccessful at getting me any closer to freedom, it produced the usual result of physical exertion in a tight leather coccon. I sweated and got hot. Now sweating in my sj is not a problem, because the leather will absorb it, unlike latex, and keep me from a chill if I no longer exert myself. But heat and intense struggling sap my energy pretty quickly, and, as this was looking like it might become a long fight, I had to be mindful not to waste energy down a hopeless strategy.

The third possibility was to try and raise my arms over my head despite the chest strap, taking advantage of my sleeves not having been threaded through the side loops, and of the slack in the setup. Again, no way, and I had come to the end of the methods I knew to "get out" of a SJ.

I had tied myself up too cleverly, and, combined with the designer's talent and the material's strength, I would remain strapped up in ths straightjacket unless I could find a way to undo it, at least partially. As I lay on my side on the bed, things were beginning to look just a little bit less bright. Of course one might ask how come I had not thought all this through beforehand, and given my escape route the same thorough think-through that I had given getting into bondage. The reason was that my efforts to SJ-self-bondage until then had been so easily defeated that I didn't think I was getting anywhere close to getting stuck. However, this showed that bondage intensity and security does not rise in a linear function. Making one's self-bondage just a little bit tighter and more elaborate doesn't necessarily make it just a little bit harder and longer to get out. Escaping is not a linear function, it is a step function, rising in one step from "escapable" to "inescapable". The question was, did I just go over that step, and was I stuck there, and what then?

I was getting seriously hot, and a bit worried that I had trapped myself well and good. What made it maddening was that the straightjacket wasn't particularly tight, a lot less even than when I was strapped in it by a partner. This sort of partial freedom was at the same time comfortable, relaxing, and also an incentive to fight my bondage. The slack made me feel as though, if I tried hard enough, or long enough, or cleverly enough, there might be a way out. Whereas, when I am strapped tight in a straitjacket and legsack combo or in a sleepsack, I know that struggling is hopeless. I may be driven to it nonethless to evade my partner's actions, but then it is without any rational hope of escaping.

So there I was, all strapped up, and unable to get out of this bondage. Things weren't looking especially good as we were Friday night, and the maid, who has the key wasn't due until Monday. And, even then, I realised she wouldn't be able to get in because I had left my own key in the lock. So I would have to face the humiliation of shouting to her for help, waiting for her to get a locksmith (hopefully not the police), and explaining. Not a pleasant prospect. So time to take another look at things. What made all the difference between getting out in 5 minutes last time and getting stuck this time was that this time, walking around was not an option, courtesy of the legsack and hogtie. But if I could reach the door handle, I would be out once again. Except that this meant getting out of the hogtie. Could I do that, and undo the buckle? When I entered into it, I could not see what I was doing because it was right behind me, but now I could twist and take a look, a key step to getting out of any bondage. Note to bondagers, if you don't want bondees to escape your clutches, never forget to blindfold or hood them. So I looked and saw -it was just one of these days- that not one of the loops had caught, but both. Slipping one loop, or getting the buckle undone through sheer friction was going to be hard enough, but doing two at the same time was hopeless, and not worth even trying. And the thought that had crossed my mind, though I hate to break equipment, that I might pull on the hogtie strap to break it, also looked definitely out, because now I would have had to break two at the same time.

I was well and truly stuck and the session was quickly shifting from blissful forced helplessness to chilling worry. As I had exhausted all possibilities that I could come up with  from getting out on my own, and that even though I have hundreds of hours of trying to escape from straightjackets and therefore quite a few possibilities known to me, the only avenue left was to try to get off the bed and get those buckles open.

Now how to get off the bed? My hogtie was not desperately tight, certainly looser than a determined partner would have enforced, but there was no way I could stand up, even with bent legs. So that left only one avenue open: to slide off the bed onto the floor. And suddenly it dawned on me: if I just crawled on the floor, I could surely reach some item with which to hold onto the chest strap, pull on it until the buckle disengaged, and be on my way to freedom.

Now that was not a decision to be reached lightly, and for two reasons. One is that, because of my strapped and hogtied state, I could not be sure that slipping off the bed didn't end up falling off it, with possible hurt as a consequence. The other one is that this is irreversible. There I was tied up, frustrated, worried, but fairly comfortable on the bed. If I did get onto the floor, and not get free, the situation would be the same, except a lot less comfortable. Not a trivial concern if I had to spend 2 days like this...

But, simply put, I had no choice, so I rolled onto my stomach and slowly wiggled my way to the edge of the bed. That is where I had to be careful, because I didn't want to fall with my knees hitting the floor. So I crawled as far as I could before I tipped over, and then rolled sideways, hoping for a controlled sideways slide. That is what happened, except it was not controlled! And there is no experiencing helplessness as vivid as falling down without the ability to use one's limbs to lessen the fall or mitigate the impact.

So I basically rolled from the top of the bed and slid/fell down the side onto my side. Fortunately the heavy leather cushioned the blow, which winded and stunned me more than it actually hurt. Once I got my wind back, I set about to crawl towards the door. Not so easy when straightjacketed, legsacked and hogtied, but I eventually got there. Then I managed to get the chest strap pinioning my arms together into the gap of the open door, and, rolling on my side, to heave against the door, effectively closing it on the strap. Then I pulled back, and this disengaged the buckle. My arms could now be lifted over my head, and I was free in a matter of minutes, but Oh! so exhausted.

I rested in my bed, slowly my mind drifting as I slowly recovered from what had been a very intense 3 hours. And, as usual, even though barely minutes ago I had been desperate to get free, I was sorry it was over. And looking for ways to make my bondage more effective yet.

I think I may well have found two.... 



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