Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories
Trapped & Ready for Torment
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© Copyright 2004 - Leotardguy - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/m; Sbm; lycra; leotards; bondage; con; X
Ready for Torment
Trapped & Ready for Torment by Leotardguy
My fetish is a little different from others. It started when
my sister was in dance classes and I used to sneak into her room and put
on her leotard and tights when I was home alone. I loved the snug
feel of the material on my skin! I was ten at the time. Good
thing I had not reached puberty or I would have had a problem, as you will
see from my future history.
When I was in college, I told my girlfriend Susan how great she looked
in her exercise outfit when she came over one time en route to an exercise
class. I told her my secret but only in the briefest detail to make
her think it was a youthful fetish. She suggested that I could stand
to shed a few pounds and that I join her in the class. I agreed
that I would start the following week.
I showed up for class in shorts and t-shirt and was informed by the
instructor that the correct, and only, clothing for the class was a leotard
and tights; I could see that all the others were dressed that way, in a
variety of styles and colors.
Knowing that my mindset was already in that direction, even though
I had not worn a leotard and tights for a few years - - ever since I grew
more than my older sister and could no longer wear hers - - my girlfriend
offered to take me shopping. We selected a pair of black tights and
a red tank leotard; she had me model them in front of the sales clerk who
commented how good I looked in them.
One problem was to get my crotch down to the smallest possible size,
since it was out in the open. I tried a jockstrap but that bunched
it all up. I am not well hung but this made it look like I was.
Susan suggested a pair of dance trunks and that seemed to minimize things.
But when I showed up for my first class dressed that way, the other women
in the class also told me how sexy I looked. Sexy? Well, I
couldn't do any more to "slim down" my crotch.
The dance trunks and top layer did keep things in place so there was
no bouncing when I did jumping exercises. The workout did me in,
and when we went back to Susan's apartment, I fell asleep on her couch
in my leotard and tights. I suddenly awoke to find her stroking the
bottom of my balls, and - - you guessed it - - I lost control. She
laughed but not too much.
After many weeks in the class - - and another trip to the dance store
for different outfits - - Susan told me that she could not go to the class
that night because she had to fly to California to be near her mother,
who had just suffered a stroke. She handed me a new outfit and told
me to put it on - - royal blue tights and a black turtleneck leotard.
When she was finished zipping me up, I felt her fiddling with the collar
and then heard a click. I reached back and found there was a band of leather
sewn into the collar of the leotard. One end had a small post which
went through the other half of the collar, then through the tab on the
leotard's zipper, and locked with small padlock.
"Why did you do that?"
"To protect you from the women in the class. Haven't you seen
how they oogle you? I won't be here when you get back but I will
leave the key for you. And I'll call when I get to California."
Well, Susan was right. When the women in the class saw that she
was not there, they paid lots of attention to me. Several suggested
that I could go home with them that night. Then one of them behind
me saw the padlock! She checked it and announced to the others that
I was locked into my leotard and tights. The class started and all
I wanted to do was duck out the back door, but that was not possible.
After the class, they again surrounded me and one of them announced
to me, "I've always wanted to touch that nice crotch buried in there."
I tried to stop her but the others held my arms. She stroked
my erotic spot, under the balls, and my cock immediately got hard and spit
up. No way to hide that! They laughed and teased me, and I
ran for the door. I would never be going back there!
When Susan called, I told her she was right about the women in the
class but I didn't tell her what had happened. But I did admit to
her that I got excited when she clicked that padlock and I realized my
situation. She promised that she would do it more often, and not
just for exercise class; I told her I was never going back to that bunch
of harpies again. As it turned out, this was the last time I talked
to her - - she was killed in an automobile accident while rushing her mother
to the hospital.
I didn't have Susan any longer but I did have the locking leotard.
But that wasn't really secure; I could easily pull up the leg elastic of
the leotard, pull down the waistband of the tights, and take a piss.
Then I found the next level of security - - dance trunks, biketard, tights,
leotard. But I wanted more, something which would hide the inevitable
cum stains. Then I discovered latex briefs; not only did they hide
the stains but once they are on and the body sweats a little, they have
to be peeled off - - impossible when there are clothes on top of it.
From there I graduated one more step, latex briefs with molded butt-plug.
And then to the final step, a turtleneck unitard. Now there was no
opening at all at the crotch. Absolute security!
So what do I do? I put it all on and go shopping, leaving the
key at home. I get a haircut, and the female barber always has to ask about
the padlock she sees when she puts on the cloth to cover me. I have
gone out of town, several hours' drive away, and before I return I put
the outfit on. With the key at home, of course. The butt plug
keeps me from shitting (as well as being a constant reminder that it is
in me) and the rubber pants keep in any liquid I may let out.
Thus, self-bondage with only a locking collar. It's fun; try
If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author
and let them know - they may write more!