© Copyright 2011 - Knotty Master - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; vacbed; bagged; stuck; warning; true; cons; XX
A true and dangerous session that nearly ended my life.
Everyone has those events that change their lives forever. Something that makes you look at everything differently. You can measure your life by the events before and after it. For this one, fifteen years ago to the day on new years eve.
I had recently moved back in with my parents. I gave up my apartment and job to get out of a really bad great relationship. I say great for the sex. It was my first live in girlfriend. Morning, noon and night, we shook the walls. We were both kinky in all the same ways.
Outside the bedroom, it was a continuous battle. I’m a neat freak and she was a slob. I was ambitious and adventurous, she wanted to watch nonstop television. It wouldn’t have been too bad if she hadn’t been so clingy and insisted I stay there with her. I go fishing, guilt trip. I take my bike to the drag strip, big time guilt trip. Dare I even propose an overnight camping trip.
My final week before I high tailed it out, I decided to see just how bad it would get and stopped picking up any messes I didn’t create. Holly crap. In just five days the place was beyond nasty. After only six months of laying all my love on the line and I had to force myself to break and run. Literally. She once showed me the photos of the damage she had done to her last boyfriends home and truck when he kicked her out. The fact she had taken photos as a trophy told me it was the actions of a vindictive sociopath rather than just a moment of emotional rage.
When you are young, dumb and full of… you know, you tend to blind yourself to the true importance’s. Still, leaving your first heavy relationship is not an easy thing. Once out, all of the little pleasures that occurred between the hell, eat at your thoughts.
I’m sure by now, you wonder why I’m spilling my guts out. Well, its part of what lead up to a near disaster. Like many who will come across this story, I have always done self bondage. My first orgasm came looking at an old HOM magazine. Like many pre teens, I discovered the joy in rubbing one out. Ropes made it better. More rope was even better.
Early in high school I found girls. Sex was great. Sex with ropes was better. Didn’t matter who was tied up. Giving up control, having control, it’s strong stuff. So naturally, once I found someone who was hardcore on top and bottom, I let things move way too fast. I do have to admit now, the relationship left me much more mature. But for the events I’m about to describe, I was still in the frame of mind that life was over. I was doomed to spend the rest of my life alone. I could never find another woman as kinky as me, right?
So here I am, alone in my parents home. I’m so depressed, I didn’t want to ring in the new year like my friends or family. Being there in my old room, even with all the new furnishings, felt like I had just backed up in time. In a way I had. No job, no girl and no place to call my own.
Nine PM. A guarantee no one would be home in less than four hours. It would be like old times. Needs to be something intense so as to cover the emotions. I’ve never tried a vac bed. I could pull it off. Plenty of time.
After a quick trip to the garage, I had half a dozen huge leaf bags. Stopping off in the linen room, I grabbed my parents vacuum. Before it was even nine thirty everything was ready. Cloths in a pile, I sat down in the waiting bag and gathered the top around my neck and the vac’s hose. I should mention the vacuum was a Rainbow. For those of you unfamiliar, a Rainbow is a high dollar vacuum that makes an Orrick look like a dust buster. An Orrick salesmen came to the house once and when we told him what we had, he didn’t even bother to say thanks for the time. So here I am about to hit the switch, figuring I could lean back over and shut it off easily enough.
I was caught completely off guard when the bag yanked me into a tight ball. I flopped over on my side, away from the vacuum once the bag removed my ability to balance. I was instantly in a blind panic. The instant I let go the bag and thrashed in panic, the seal was broken and I was free.
Heart still thumping, I was actually disappointed instead of relieved that I escaped so easy. Next attempt, I closed the bag around my neck with a large rubber band and kept my hands by my crotch. Positioning myself over the vac, I poked the switch with my nose. Again, despite my efforts, I fell over. Calmer this time, I tried with all my strength to move my hands. They weren’t going anywhere. Panic returned. Again I escaped all too easily. This time, thrashing my legs, I tore through the bag.
Another try, this time adding a sheet around myself inside the bag. I escaped again in seconds. It was too easy to push myself out the top of the bag. Again and again I found my freedom in a way other than shutting down the vac. After about the sixth attempt, my mood was sinking fast.
That’s when I got the best “dumb” idea ever. Great big trash bags, tiny mattress on the bed. Even better, the fitted sheet if I left it on the mattress and climbed in under it, would guarantee I couldn’t tear the bag.
After tossing on my pants, I dashed to the garage and cut a three foot section of hose from the garden hose under the work bench. It was an old one my dog had chewed when he was a pup and no one would miss. Finding a roll of duct tape, I returned to the room.
Feeling quite brilliant, I taped two bags together end to end. Cutting the bottom end out of one of the bags, I now had one really long bag. Once I had the mattress on the floor, I worked the bag over it like a giant sleeve. After a few preparations, I climbed in and into position. Reaching out behind my head, I positioned the hose at the top corner of the mattress and placed the power cord where I could reach it. With the air hose in my mouth, I reached out and positioned the length out the top of the bag, free of obstruction. Something I was about to learn was when you breathe through a long hose, you are actually re-breathing much of your own air.
With a glob of lube in my right hand, I held the top of the bag open and turned on the vac with the other. I continued to keep the opening wide while I gathered the cord with my left hand, removing all of the slack. If I pulled in the slightest, it would be yanked from the wall and shut down the vac. Simple, right? Now spreading the bag so it should lay flat and create a seal, I placed the free hand around my member. Now I wait.
Still waiting. The vac continued to whir, but the bag wasn’t closing down enough to seal. Figuring I needed to get out and find a solution to the problem, I started to sit up. The action pulled on the bag just right. In an instant I was pulled back to the bed. The effect was incredible. For the first few moments anyway. Just as I hoped, The sheet was pinning me down hard. Oh damn was it ever. What I didn’t expect was the lack of stretch in the sheet. It was snug on the mattress by itself, but now it had to reach around me, then the expanse of the mattress.
The sensation was that of ten people sitting on me at once. I could feel myself sinking as the mattress began to compress. Each time I exhaled, the next breath was shallower. Deciding to end it right there, I pulled on the cord. Well, I tried. My hand wouldn’t move a fraction of a slice of a millimeter. It was as if I had been locked in stone. I was in sheer terror when I discovered my absolute immobility.
Weight on my chest and abs, re-breathing my own air as it passed back and fourth in the hose and powerless to stop this fantasy gone nightmare. I knew at that very moment I had just killed myself. These were to be the final moments of my life. My parents didn’t drink and they would come home sober to their perverted dead son in a bag.
A little hope. I had been holding the hose tight with my lips. Relaxing my mouth, air from the hose was drawn into the bed. It wasn’t enough to loosen the pressure on my chest, but at least I was getting fresh air from the hose now. Fighting with renewed vigor, I still found myself stuck like a fly in amber. The mattress was hard as stone under the compression and I was plastered to it. My chest was tiring rapidly and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I couldn’t draw the next breath.
This is how they would find me. My hand was locked around my member. I was pinned in an unmovable black prison. I couldn’t get the image of what my parents would see when they came home out of my head. The grief and humiliation of dealing with their son dying in such a way. One by one I imagined the faces and conversations of everyone I knew, “He seemed so normal.” “I never imagined he was so perverted.”
It wasn’t even eleven the moment I climbed into this creation. I just had to be so clever and creative. As my lungs gave out, I knew I had less than a minute of life left. In total blackness, I was starting to see brilliant swirling lights. My whole body was burning and rushing with the strangest sensation. I had hoped to pass out quickly, but I was slipping slowly. To make it worse, I don’t remember being more alert and clear of mind in my life.
I managed to draw a breath. Then another a few moments later. Again and again the breaths kept coming. It wasn’t enough to stop the pain of asphyxiation, but I wasn’t blacking out. Now I was feeling mixed emotions. I was convinced I wouldn’t last long enough for a rescue by my parents. There was a combination of not wanting to face the humiliation if I did and wanting this ordeal to just be over.
I made a conscious decision to get it over with as quickly as possible and tried to force myself not to breathe, but my body was working on its own. Another breath and another came against my will, But they were getting further apart and more violent. My whole body was convulsing with each mechanical gulp. It was painful to say the least. If you have ever been hit in the stomach so hard the wind was knocked from you, imagine it happening over and over every few seconds and you might have some idea. What was supposed to be a couple hours of fun had turned into an eternity of hell.
I suddenly became aware of the fact I was no longer feeling the convulsions. I was aware they continued, but I couldn’t feel anything. My sense of touch had completely shut down. This must be it. I was dying. Even the Sound of the vac seemed a mile away and fading. Just as the word was drifting away I felt the most intense convulsion of them all. My body pulled itself up like it was trying to go into a fetal position.
I knew instantly what it was. My body was going into death throws. I'd seen it from fish dying in the boat. In a pet rabbit that simply died of old age and I had the unfortunate benefit of witnessing. The huge muscular outburst had outdone the rigidity of the mattress, allowing my legs to draw up slightly. If I could raise my feet, perhaps when I thrashed back out it might jostle me enough to pull the cord from the wall.
My body had stopped listening to my commands long ago, but I pulled it off. Indeed my feet left the floor. As I predicted my body thrashed over and over. I could feel myself rocking slightly and several times I managed to raise my feet. I had no way of knowing, but it felt like if the mattress was moving, it was in the wrong direction. I may never know as the exertions caused me to finally black out.
Nothing. Black empty nothing. Pressure on my chest. Pressure everywhere on my body. I was aware of still being in the bed. I heard no sound. I was uncertain if that sense was shut down or the room was actually quiet. Groans and creaking from the mattress as it re-expanded gave me my answer. As the pressure on my chest began to relent I took my first voluntary breath in a long time. Ever so slowly the pressure continued to decline and the mattress continued to lift me further from the floor.
I was breathing freely now. I felt no fatigue as I gulped each refreshing breath. God, it was taking forever for the bag to release me. Every few seconds I tugged against my confines, but freedom hadn’t found me yet.
The sudden sound of the vac winding back up was the most dreadful thing I had ever heard. The speed in which the bed began to collapse once again was like lightning compared to how it had been deflating. With the strength of sheer terror, I jerked down on the cord. Thank god the vac stopped again.
After waiting for the bag to finally grant my freedom, I investigated the vac. Part of me believed it had overheated then started back up once it cooled. Not the case. It was barely even warm. It took several tries, but I finessed the plug into the outlet right to the point where the slightest tension cut the connection and once released fire it back up. When I was convulsing, it had pulled the plug to that very point. Once the mattress raised back up, the tension was released and the vac was alive again.
Something made me get back in. This time I kept my hand out of the bag, a rubber band closing it around my wrist. I let the vac completely collapse the bed again before I pulled the plug. With a little finesse, I pulled on the vacuum hose and managed to twist it up in the plastic. Tossing it from my reach, The bed was now very slow to inflate. I could Roll my wrist around, but nothing I could do with that hand would expedite my escape. Nothing to do but wait. I could sense the slow gain of air within my prison. I had no idea how long it would take, but I knew freedom would come.
Quite some time later I managed to get free. After the restful wait, I picked up in no time. Laying down, I looked at the clock. It was fifteen minutes into the new year. A year I almost never made it to. As I reflected on the mishap, I knew it was only sheer, total and complete luck that I was still alive, yet despite it all I continued. Like any true addict I had put the rush above risk. That was the last time I ever messed with self bondage. In my quest for an ever increasingly intense experience, I almost ended it all.
After a few more bad relationships and one bad marriage, I finally met my current wife. We tie each other up more often than we have vanilla sex. Life is great. LIFE is great. Its fine to fantasize, but its not worth the risk. If you must tie yourself up, consider if you could survive the position your about to put yourself in. What if you were stuck for hours? Positional asphyxiation can kill and does. Even simply laying face down and passing out can cause death. Your own weight can suffocate you. Through life there is joy and pain. The little pleasures are worth it. Death is permanent. Over. done.
Do some homework on accidental death by asphyxiation. You will be surprised how easy it is to die. Play safe, always. The best backup is another person. Believe it or not, we the kinky are not the minority. Finding the right mate is not that hard. I wasn’t even looking when I found mine.
I had no intention on being a buzz kill. I was just reflecting on the new year and reconnected the date. If one person happens to not die for reading this, this post was worth it ten thousand times over.
My resolution is to start writing stories again. What’s yours?
Happy New year.
Normally I’d put my standard disclaimer here, but this story is fair game for however and wherever you want to take it. Thanks for reading