Homeward Bound

My husband and I have been playing bondage games together for almost
ten years, most of our married life. It stems primarily from my need to
be placed into bondage in such a way as to be totally helpless. In fact,
I started out playing with before we met, and still practice today, “self-bondage”.
Many of our current escapades stem from this. At the now ripe old age of
thirty-two, I have been doing this since my teens, about sixteen years.

Early on I had visions of being the helpless damsel, rescued by the
big knight in shining armor. Who would then take me away and we would make
love together. This usually done by me fingering myself in my daydreams
However, as my teenage hormones raged into young womanhood, I discovered
that being helpless and taken by the sinister villain made for better fantasies,
not to mention better sexual stimulation. I started simply, by pretending
to be kidnapped. I would use clothesline to tie myself up and roll around
in my bedroom. Or, I would fasten myself spread eagle to the bed, legs
on bedposts and one arm likewise. I would have one free to play with myself. 
This was a fair beginning except that I was not able to tie myself in such
a way that I couldn’t easily get undone. Having a heightening need to increase
my suspense, I needed to figure out how to be more really helpless. My
first attempt taught me the need for safety precautions. After seeing a
hanging on an old western (no I didn’t have any death wish fantasies),
I got an idea for getting tied up better. Taking a small length of rope,
I fashioned a noose into it. I had figured on using this to cinch up my
wrist ropes. Well it worked, too well. I had snatched a cucumber from the
refrigerator, and made ready to have a decent “Snidely Whiplash” type adventure.
After locking myself in my room I undressed. Then after greasing the green
weenie, so to speak, with some Vaseline (this was before I discovered K-Y
Jelly), I slid it between my legs and into my vagina. Then I securely tied
my ankles and knees together. Finally, I used some rope to make a wrist
coil. I slipped a hand through the coil, then put the noose around it.
Finally, I slipped the other hand through. After twisting the coil to make
it snug, I cinched up the little noose, locking myself tight. I was in
bondage joy as I rolled on my bedroom floor, the makeshift phallic inside
me. I could squeeze down on it and feel completely full. Within a few minutes
I had worked myself into a really good orgasm. Of course, then I wanted
to get loose. Funny thing, I found out too late I couldn’t make the noose
reverse and loosen. After several bouts of panic, I was able to remember
a scissors in my desk drawer and after much effort, slink across the floor,
get propped into the chair, and open the drawer. It took a good thirty
minutes of sawing at the cords to get loose. Somewhere in the middle of
all this, I had a second huge orgasm. I learned two things from this experience.
First was that the more really helpless I was the bigger the thrill. Second,
one always needs to plan for escape, and make contingencies in the event
of surprises.

Over time, I got more imaginative with my bondage. By the time I got
to college I was pretty good at it. I also found a new thrill, the fear
of getting caught while in a compromising position in bondage. As always,
something like this happens by accident. It was a rainy Saturday and my
apartment mates were heading for an afternoon at the mall. I decided to
stay home for some self imposed fun. After the other girls left I stripped
naked and decided on a plan. They would be gone for hours, so I decided
on some time release fun. First I poked into the freezer. There I extracted
an ice cube from the back corner. This little block had a key to a pair
of handcuffs  I now owned frozen into it. This I placed in the living
room by a coffee table. Then I retired back to my room. There I tied my
ankles and knees securely. Then I wound some cord around my waist and between
my legs. Fastened front and back to my waist rope, this cord became an
effective crotch rope, teasing my clitoris and labia. Not to mention my
vaginal and anal crevices. Then I slid a belt down around my upper arms
and fastened it as tight as I could.  Finally, after looping the handcuffs
behind the crotch rope behind me, I locked my wrists behind me. The intent
was that I would now have to shinny my way to the living room to get loose.
Even then, I would have to wait for the key to melt before I would be freed.
I had a backup key under my bed. But once I started out towards the living
room, I would have to come all the way back to get it. Taking a deep breath
I inched forward. Having placed the cuffs behind the crotch rope, every
time I moved, it would jerk up, pulling into my crack and rub against something.
Before I cleared the hallway,  I had worked into my first orgasm.
I had one more before getting to the living room and the key, which was
still partially frozen. This had taken most of an hour. I was almost free
when I heard the click of the front door lock.  I nearly had a heart
attack, nobody should have been here for at least another couple of hours.
Grasping the almost thawed key I literally twisted, turned and flung myself
behind the couch, next to the wall. Banging my head I almost knocked myself
out. As I was hearing bells, my roommates burst into the room arguing about
something. It seems one had left her wallet at home and they had to retrieve
it. My third climax hit when someone plopped onto the couch, directly in
front of me while the other went for the wallet. I was on floor, nearly
biting through my lip to keep quiet as my body quivered and shook in waves
of orgasm. Why nobody noticed I have no idea. Anyway, they were soon gone
and I prayed a long epistle of thanks. After I got loose and was back in
my room, It took a long time for my heart rate to calm and me to relax.
That night I masturbated to another big climax, reliving this in my mind.

My husband got involved not too long after we were married. He was a
great lover, but just the same I still had the need to get bound and helpless
every so often. Also, being now somewhat more affluent, I had incorporated
a few toys to “add” to my tensions and pleasures. Although, I still found
that from the bondage standpoint, simple is still effective and the most
enticing. It was a Friday, I remember because of the ensuing weekend of
bondage at my husband’s hand. But I am getting ahead of myself. Anyway,
after he left for work, I settled down at my home office and completed
a couple of my own assignments as a freelance writer for the local newspaper’s
travel section. Around lunch time the old urge for some self induced fun
hit. Having transmitted in my work, I gave in to the beckoning from within.
Taking a hot bubble bath, I soaked away some stresses and made my plans.
After toweling dry I decided on some slinky lingerie. I started with a
black lace garter belt and some nylons. Then I added a black satin chemise.
It was soft, slinky, and short, stopping just above my firm waist. Finally,
I slipped into a pair of black high heels. Then, wandering through the
house I gathered my supplies. In the kitchen, I placed a sharp steak knife.
This would be the instrument of my release. Toys in hand, I wandered back
to the bedroom at the other end of the house. There I started my bondage.
First, using cotton clothesline I bound my ankles, and them my knees. Next,
I crafted a small cinch noose as I had become accustomed to in this type
of escapade. Now it was time for a couple of toys. First, sliding a hand
under the chemise, I clipped a clothespin onto each of my nipples. The
initial pain zipped through me, but I ignored it for now, waiting to savor
later. The chemise kept the clothespins folded down adding stress to my
pinched buds. After this, I picked up an anal plug and lubricated it with
some K-Y, along with the top of a Fleets enema bottle. Then, bending forward
I inserted the Fleets into my anus and squeezed until it was empty and
I, correspondingly filled. After the enema fill up, I carefully pressed
the head of the butt plug against my anus until it popped past the sphincter,
locking itself firmly in place. I had kept my panties, black lace, down
around my thighs, and now pulled them up, covering my plugged bottom. I
worked quickly to complete my bondage. I had some more clothesline, with
I had made into a chest loop, which I slid down over my torso and upper
arms. This was tight, holding them close to my body, but still gave me
a little lower arm movement. After placing a ball gag into my mouth and
locking it, I completed the last portion of my self-imprisonment. I had
a wrist coil of clothesline, which I slid over one wrist, then rolling
to my back I snaked up so that I had my feet up under me and my arms under,
where I could slip the wrist coil through the cinch noose. I managed that
and got my second wrist through the coil, twisting it into a sung figure
eight around my wrists. That’s when something went wrong. I felt that the
cinch line was going to be too short and started to slide my wrist back
out. Unfortunately, my high heels slipped on the bedroom’s hardwood floor.
Anyway, my legs kicked out, I flopped onto my back, and the mini-noose
cinched up, leaving me trapped in an overly tight hog-tie. I had been propped
upwards to make the self-bondage work, so when I slipped, my head whacked
into the floor also, leaving me dazed for a minute or two. When my senses
returned I started to try and move around to see what status I was in.
The hog-tie was so short that my hands were right up next to my ankles.
Normally, I could traverse the distance from the bedroom to kitchen, where
my escape knife laid waiting, in about an hour. But in this case, I was
barely able to move an inch at a time. By the time two hours had passed,
I had just gotten to the living room. I had been forced to stop a number
of times as the cramps from the enema were getting fierce. I also managed
to have one real head banging orgasm about halfway own the hallway from
the bedroom. It took another forty minutes to work across the living room
to the kitchen entrance. It was now late afternoon. My whole body was cramped
and I was rubbed raw from the ropes. There wasn’t going to be any way to
hide this little adventure from my husband when he got home. As I inched
forward I started to try and figure out how to explain this all to him.
It wasn’t necessary. Just about the time I was three feet from the knife,
a pair of loafer appeared in my line of sight. It was my husband, apparently
having come home early for a head start on the weekend. A quick look told
him this wasn’t a kidnapping, and I was quickly wrenched up onto my knees
by the line around my chest. Pulled way back in the hog-tie, I teetered
on wobbly knees as he gave me a long frowning look over. “Did this yourself
??” was his short question. I meekly nodded yes. Picking up the knife he
again questioned, “Want to get loose now ??”  Again I nodded a weak
affirmative. “Gonna have to earn it.” were his last words as he reached
down and popped the cinch line, relaxing my stance. The noose portion stayed
in place, however, so my wrists were still locked. I found myself pushed
face first onto the floor, bent over, with my rear in the air. I was beset
by another cramp attack from the enema and moaned into the gag. By this
time my bladder was also screaming for attention. I had hope to be released
so I could attend to these needs. What happened was that my lace bikini
brief was pulled down and his large, already fully erect, penis was jammed
into my vagina from the rear.

As he impaled me I was quickly jolted with a pleasure/pain sensation
of being filled in numerous ways. Between his engorged cock, the butt plug
and enema, and my over full bladder, I was in real distress. He of course
found the butt plug and started to play with it while ramming his cock
in and out of me. It took only a minute or two before my tensions bounded
into a screamer of an orgasm and I convulsed and pogo-stick bounced in
his penis. I saw stars, heard crashing symphonies, and wrenched in climax
spasm until I could barely breath.  Then I still had to submit there
while he pounded away inside me for another five or eight minutes until
he climaxed, squirting his hot love seed deeply into me. At that point,
he dragged me, by the hair, to the bathroom, where he carefully propped
me onto the commode before pulling my “plug”. I sat there, still bound
and gagged, as I exploded into the bowl.

After cleaning me up, and eventually removing the gag, I was made to
explain everything to him. The net result was that I spent the rest of
the weekend in bondage as his sex slave. Since that time I have spent many
nights tied and helpless while being used and abused by him. Usually by
him capturing and tying me up. But sometimes, I still set up a little self-bondage
for him to “find” when he gets home.