CURIOSITY AND THE CAT

(or YOUNG PERV'S VOLUNTARY SELFBONDAGE)
(or THE BOOBY TRAP)

It was getting dark already. It suited me just fine, since I've always been more of a night person than a day person, but it would have been nice if it was a little bit warmer. I tucked the ends of my scarf into my coat, enjoying the crunch of the snow underfoot as I made my way up the driveway to Catherine's house. At least she had had the good sense to book a holiday away from this snow-bound London suburb - she was enjoying life on some sun-drenched beach, no doubt.

The security light above her door flashed on as I approached, flooding the driveway with light. I reached into my coat pocket and fumbled around for the keys - difficult in gloves, especially since these were thick, warm gloves instead of the shiny black latex gloves I much prefer to wear. It only took me a few moments to unlock the door and step inside to the welcoming warmth - I was glad when I realised that she had left her central heating on. Probably not for my benefit, though. It was for her cat.

"Miss Kitty?" I called, turning on the light and hanging my hat, coat, scarf and gloves in the cloakroom.

I made some loud clicking noises with my tongue - even though cats never make that sort of noise, it seemed the right thing to do. There was no reply, so I started a slow sweep through all the rooms of the house, calling for the cat, turning lights on as I went. Eventually I found Miss Kitty, curled up on the king-size bed that was dominating the bedroom, fast asleep.

"There you are," I smiled, speaking in a voice reserved only for children and animals, "it's time for your din-dins."

She didn't stir a single black hair on her little furry body in response to that. What gratitude, I thought, especially after I made all that effort to come out here to feed you. Still, she'd wake up soon enough when she smelled her food. I headed downstairs to the kitchen and put some catfood in a bowl. And waited. And waited. And called to her. And waited.

"Wake up, Miss Kitty, your scrumptious feast of lamb in gravy is awaiting you!" I called, marching up the stairs and back into the bedroom.

She was no longer on the bed - she was crouched next to the wardrobe, playing with a piece of unravelled rope that had fallen out of the partly-open door.

"At least you're awake now," I smiled, picking her up and carrying her downstairs, holding her warm furry body close as I nuzzled my face in her back on the way - she didn't put up a fuss, trying to look as indignant as possible, but soon lost her decorum when placed in front of her dinner.

I left her to her feast and returned to the bedroom. I opened the wardrobe, and discovered that the piece of unravelled rope had fallen from an interesting-looking cardboard box which was poorly-hidden under a pile of shoes. I picked up the end of the rope, opened the box, placed the rope inside it, closed the box, closed the wardrobe door and then sat on the bed. Then I stood up again, opened the wardrobe door, opened the box, and looked at the contents again.

"Catherine, you kinky little thing, why didn't you tell me?" I grinned, taking the box from the wardrobe and placing it on the bed.

Inside was all manner of interesting bondage paraphenalia. As I started picking through it, I came across a note. It simply read: KEYS IN FREEZER. Why did she need to leave herself a note? Was she forgetful?

The most interesting item in the cardboard box was itself a box. It was painted black, and was slightly larger than a shoebox. It had two large-ish holes on one of the long sides, and two very small holes directly opposite them. The lid was hinged, and took half of each large-ish hole when the box was opened - much like a stock or pillory. And then I realised what it was for - breasts. I also noticed some incredibly small holes on the inside of the box, on the lid and base, but couldn't tell what they were for. Perhaps they were for ventilation or something? I also noticed some tracks on the inside of the box - evidently, it could be compressed like a vice to grip the breasts inside. Attached to the lid of the box was a short chain which ended with a collar. I smiled to myself. I had to try it.

I quickly stripped off my clothes. I didn't want my legs to get cold, especially not my feet (since I'd be walking on the tiled kitchen floor), so I kept my tights on. I then opened the box, positioned my breasts inside it, and closed it again (the holes were just big enough for the base of each breast to be squeezed inside them - I'd have to open the box again to get them out). I pulled the chain taut and fastened the collar around my neck, which lent some extra support to the device. I smiled to myself, thinking how silly I must look wearing just a pair of tights, with a strange black box attached to my chest!

There was a faint ratcheting sound from inside the box and I felt the lid of the box on the top of my breasts. There must be some sort of automatic mechanism in there, I thought. I felt the box begin to compress my breasts - not enough to hurt, but enough to push my hardening nipples through the two little holes at the front.

"I need some clamps," I smiled, beginning to feel very horny.

I rooted through the box, but the only clamps I could find were clover-style clamps with long red tassels. I'd never seen anything like them before - shrugging, I quickly attached them to my hard nipples, gasping as they gripped me hard. I was getting very aroused by this point, and all I wanted to do was reach down between my legs and... but I knew better than that. I looked into the cardboard box for some more toys, to stop me playing with myself and increase my frustration. I eventually selected a pair of hinged handcuffs, a ring-gag and a video labelled "Self-Bondage Peril" - I pulled the ring-gag into my mouth and fastened it tightly behind my head before I grabbed the other two items and headed downstairs.

Miss Kitty didn't seem at all surprised by my change in appearance - she had finished her meal and was now sniffing around the kitchen. I mumbled something to her through the gag as I made my way to the freezer and quickly found a large ice-cube containing a pair of keys. Since the only lockable item in Catherine's toy collection was the hinged handcuffs, I guessed that the keys were for them (also, I hadn't seen any keys in the cardboard box). I took the ice cube, closed the freezer, and made my way through to Catherine's living room. I placed the ice-cube on the coffee table and the video in the video recorder. I tapped my pantyhosed foot on the carpet while I waited for the video to rewind (I hate it when people don't rewind videos) - I would have crossed my arms while I waited, but I couldn't get comfortable with my arms above or below the large black box on my breasts. Once the video had rewound, I turned on the TV, pressed PLAY, and handcuffed my wrists together behind my back (making sure that I'd be able to release myself once I had the key - I know how tricky hinged handcuffs can be).

I relaxed on the sofa, trying to get comfortable in my bondage, but sat up immediately when an image that I wasn't expecting appeared on the TV screen. It was of a bedroom that I hadn't seen in years - my old university bedroom. I wasn't quite sure where the camera was, but the angle meant that I could see my old bed, my old wardrobe and even that annoying door which had had a habit of locking itself whenever it was closed. Why did Catherine have a video of my old university bedroom? I stood up and walked around the coffee table, taking in the details of the image on the TV screen. Then I heard (on the TV) the sound of people leaving via the front door - I recognised the voices as my ex university housemates. This was weird.

The bedroom door opened and I saw a girl walk into shot. She could only have been about 19 or so. She was wrapped in a towel, carrying a pile of clothes, and looking rather sexy. It was me.

Why did Catherine have a video of me at university? How had she secretly filmed me without my noticing? Why did I now have little goosebumps all over my body?

Still standing in front of the TV, I watched my younger self dump her clothes and towel on the floor (what a slob) before she wandered naked out of shot. She returned a moment later with a black thong g-string, a black lacy suspender belt and pair of black fishnet stockings (what a slut) and quickly changed into them. She then opened the wardrobe and admired herself in the mirror (what a narcissist), posing for her reflection's viewing pleasure. As she closed the wardrobe door, she spotted something inside and quickly pulled out a pair of black stiletto boots, which she also donned.

I took a step away from the TV screen. This was scary. Was I meant to find that video? As my younger self rooted around under her bed, I looked over my shoulder at the hinged handcuffs and began to pull at them. I wasn't aroused any more, I was scared and I wanted out. And then I remembered that the keys were trapped in ice on the coffee table, and I had at least a couple of hours before the ice melted... As I knelt down to see if I could do anything to speed up the melting of the ice, I heard a faint ratchet sound from inside the box, and the lid pressed down a little harder on my breasts...

This isn't good, I said to myself, but I didn't know that the worst was to come: I felt multiple sharp sensations on the top and bottom of my breasts.

Evidently, those little holes which I'd thought were there for ventilation were actually for small metal spikes to emerge from... I pulled hard at the handcuffs as I tried to bring my hands around in front of me to try to relieve some of the pressure on my tortured breasts as the vice began to grip harder, squishing my breasts between a hundred tiny, little, metal points. I wriggled, shaking the box on my chest, but it was to no avail - I was moaning involuntarily into the gag now, drooling slightly, struggling hard... and then the pressure subsided and the spikes retracted. I breathed a sigh of relief. The torment was over. And my nipples were so hard now...

Perhaps that was a taste of things to come. I moaned to myself - I really had to get my breasts out of the vice before it decided to squish them again. But my curiosity got the better of me - instead of concentrating on the key to my freedom, my eyes drifted back to the TV. My younger self was now wearing a collar around her neck, a shiny red ballgag and a pair of normal handcuffs, looped through the rear of her thong. She was lying on the bed, struggling and writhing, trying to reach her hard nipples with her bound hands, pulling at her thong, on the verge of orgasm. I felt my own arousal growing as I watched my younger self, and I so wanted to free myself and play with myself. Keeping one eye on the television, I knelt in front of the coffee table and began to breathe warm air over the ice cube.

A black paw hooked a vicious claw into one of the tassels dangling from the clover clamps attached to my nipples and pulled. Hard. I yelped loudly into the ring-gag - at that moment, my younger self suddenly froze and looked up, looking worried and scared. For one confusing moment, I thought that she had heard me... and then I realised that she had been startled by the ladder of a window cleaner appearing outside her bedroom window. Instead of pulling down the blind, she quickly rushed out of the room, leaving her handcuff keys behind her...

But I wasn't worried about her stupidity. I was worried about the cat which had jumped onto the coffee table and had taken another swipe at the tassels dangling from my nipples. I swore into my gag as I fled (what a sight I must have been) with Miss Kitty in hot pursuit. There didn't seem to be anywhere in this house which didn't have a handy shelf or chair or surface next to it from which a playful cat could swipe at tassels which were jumping around invitingly as their wearer ran. I briefly wondered if this was how Catherine spent her evenings... Each time Miss Kitty caught up with me and pulled at the tassels, I couldn't stop myself from yelping into the gag - the pressure caused the clover clamps to tighten on my nipples, so they were squeezed and pulled simultaneously.

I quickly fled upstairs and darted into the ensuite bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. I sat on the toilet, groaning into my gag, trying to get my bound hands to my poor, tortured nipples. Just as I thought things couldn't get worse, I heard another faint ratcheting sound from inside the box... I squeezed my eyes shut as the little spikes dug into my tender flesh and the vice began to squeeze again... I was drooling heavily onto the smooth black box now, squirming on the toilet seat as I tried to cope with the pain, moaning louder and louder as the inside of the box became smaller and smaller... I could feel my breasts pressing against each other now, as the box flattened them... and then it was over.

I had to escape before the next round of breast torture began. I gingerly opened the bathroom door and peered out - there was no sign of Miss Kitty. I tip-toed downstairs to the living room. On the TV, there was no sign of my younger self - just the shadow of the window cleaner cleaning the window. On the table, there was no sign of the ice cube. Actually, that was incorrect, there was a small puddle of water. And some feline footprints. I found the ice cube behind the sofa, where I assumed that Miss Kitty had left it once she was bored with it. I squeezed my arm between the back of the sofa and the wall, and pushed... and realised that the sofa was too heavy for me to move, and the ice cube was too far away for me to get to. This was turning into a comedy of errors, but I wasn't laughing. In fact, the word I said into my ring-gag when I realised that I couldn't get to the keys was both unrepeatable and unintelligible.

And then I realised. I couldn't get to the keys. But Miss Kitty could.

I climbed the stairs and entered Catherine's study. I took some pieces of paper from the printer and screwed them up into little balls. And then I went in search of the cat.

She was stalking prey in the back garden. Luckily, all I had to do to get her attention was lean out of the back door and make my tassels jump invitingly. Once she was inside, I turned away from her so she couldn't see the tassels, and showed her a rolled up piece of paper. I threw it into the living room and she scampered after it. Following her, I got the next piece of paper ready and threw that behind the sofa - she followed. I heard a scuffle as she played with the ball of paper, showing it who was boss. She emerged victorious... but with no ice cube. I threw another piece of paper behind the sofa and she followed it - I grinned as much as the gag let me when I saw the ice cube skitter out into the open. Quickly, I crossed the room, sat on the floor, and grasped it in my handcuffed hands. And Miss Kitty took the opportunity to dart in front of me and hang from my nipples...

And, if matters weren't bad enough, another faint ratchet heralded more breast torture. It was too much for me - all I could do was sit there and try to take it, try to cope with the squeezing, the spikes and the repeated pulling at my nipples. I could feel the very cold ice melting in my hot hands as I gripped it behind me, and before I knew it I was clutching a couple of keys! I quickly put a key in the handcuffs and turned it... nothing happened. I did the same with the other key, with the same result. These were not the keys for these handcuffs. Damn.

The torture ended, and I slowly staggered to my feet. What was I to do? There was only one way out of this. I walked over to the phone, pushed the receiver onto the table and dialled Catherine's mobile number.

"Hello?"

"Mmmmmph!"

"Laura?"

"Mmmmmph!"

"I see you've found my ring-gag. I'd guess you're calling because you've just discovered that the keys in the freezer aren't for the handcuffs, yes?"

"Mmmmmph!"

"And did you find my little booby trap?"

"Mmmmmph!"

"I thought your curiosity would get the better of you. I've known about your love of bondage since university - feel free to watch the video labelled Self-Bondage Peril if you want proof."

"Mmmmmph."

"You've seen it? Excellent. Anyway, I'd guess that you want to be let out of your bondage now. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to release you (and when I say release, I really mean subject you to further torture and humiliation)..."

"Mmmmmph..."

"...but if you're really desperate, I've buried a spare set of keys in the snow somewhere on my front drive. Don't forget to wrap up warm, and wave to the neighbours!"

"Mmmmmph!"

And, with that, she hung up. I wasn't going to hang around for her to return, I was going to escape. I slipped my stockinged feet into my shoes, managed to drape a coat over my shoulders, wedged the front door open and wandered out into the snow. The security light flicked on - at least I'd be able to see, but unfortunately the neighbours would also be able to see me. I'd have to be quick. I shivered, the ring-gag the only thing stopping my teeth from chattering as I poked at the snow with my shoes. It seemed like hours before I eventually found the keys... frozen solid in an even bigger ice-cube... and I wondered if my younger self on the TV screen had managed to find her way back to the safety of her bedroom yet... and it was at that point that I heard another faint ratcheting sound from inside the box fastened to my breasts...