I guess I was about 11 or 12 when I first realized that I had an interest in bondage. Naturally, I kept my discovery hidden. But from that moment on, afternoons alone in my bedroom became my laboratory for experimenting as well as a whole bevy of imaginary captor's lairs. Those early years in retrospect too were little more than light play and fantasizing. I was far too scared to really try anything resembling the real thing. But then, just after my 17th birthday, I found myself presented an opportunity of enjoying a week home alone. I had the means. I had the desire. So I decided it was time to stop dreaming and start doing.

A magazine I had stumbled across, the title long since forgotten, illustrated a hogtie quite similar to what is depicted in this very site, except that it featured the use of chain and padlocks over rope. I was so caught up in the idea of experiencing the "real thing", that I jumped at it, hook, line and sinker. I scoffed at the suggestions of emergency escapes. After all, I was the typical 17 year old, bulletproof and I most definitely, knew it all! When the big day arrived, I was more than primed. I helped my folks pack the car, saw them off and within a hour was on the verge of entering into my very first hard core bondage session, and real trouble.

Like so many of us, I had a more than passing interest in cross dressing and had, in fact been nurturing it far more seriously over the years than I had my attractions for bondage. As such, by mid afternoon, I bore little resemblance to the 17 year old young man I was known to be. Slight of build and fair complexioned, it never had been hard for me to make myself "convincing". A little make up here, a padded bra there, a few whisks of a razor and a pluck or two of the tweezers and I found myself staring in the mirror at a surprisingly attractive young woman. Public forays with myself dressed had always been a big rush for me, and this day was to be no different.

I eventually wound up at a nearby shopping mall where after mustering the courage to venture inside, I made a most pleasant realization. I was being seen and accepted 100% as a real woman. I grew more confident with this discovery and began flirting around with the idea of actually entering a few stores with the intent of buying something. I had never dared to be this outgoing before. I grew bolder, enough so that at one point, I entered a shoe store and actually had a salesman "show" me several pairs of heels. Watching him slip pumps and sandals on and off of my feet, with my red toenails glinting in the light through my sheer hose was enough to almost make me lose it.

From there, I somehow wound up roaming around in a small jewelry boutique. To this day, I'm still not sure what really happened, how it all came about, but when I stepped back out in to the mall, both ear lobes were daintily bobbed in not one, but two sets of gold pierced earrings. I had never even dreamed of doing anything like that before, let alone think of actually being pierced. I was euphoric, flying higher than I had ever been before. Inside myself, I knew that it was time, that I was ready, so I headed home.

I locked the doors, closed the blinds and made my way into a guest bedroom. There, I took position on the bed, wrapped my mouth and jaw several layers thick in duct tape, and before cold feet could set in, hurriedly wrapped the ends of my chain figure 8 pattern around my ankles and wrists and snapped shut the padlocks. The key.......(as in only one) to my padlocks had been frozen inside a large ice block formed from a Tupperware bowl and set out in the chilly bowels of our basement. There I knew release could be found, but it would take a very long time.

With the closing of the lock at my wrists, my mind sailed off into a dream world. At most, only 8 or 9 inches of chain separated my hands from my feet, a far tighter binding than I had attempted before, and to be totally honest, far tighter than I had intended to be. I writhed and strained against my chains while watching myself in the panorama of mirrored closet doors. I looked like a girl horribly bound and gagged and I felt like a girl. Only when my movements pushed my dress up about my waist to reveal my hose covered crotch and organs, was the mystique spoiled. I alternately struggled against my bonds and brought myself to the edge of arousal for what seemed like hours on end. Resting between attempts, I actually dropped off to sleep several times and there is where my first true realization that I had gone too far became apparent.

I awoke at one point to find the bedroom totally dark. Having failed to turn on any lighting for the night and having closed all the blinds throughout the house, I suddenly found that I could barely see where I was, much less where I would need to go. That is when it hit me that I had also not left on any lights in the basement. Sans windows, finding my key there would now even in broad daylight be like hunting the proverbial needle in a haystack.

I slid off the edge of the bed. Both ankles and wrists were already aching and I had hardly started out. The short distance between my hands and feet was now really making itself known as the strain to my thighs began to encourage cramps. Too much stretching and movement against my chains would surely start them off. I therefore had to inch my way across the bedroom that much more slowly. I crawled out into the hallway and began a tortuous trek that led me through the living room, dining room, kitchen and utility area to reach the basement staircase. It looked like a bottomless pit. I knew that one false move descending would likely be my last and that should I get downstairs in one piece, climbing back up again would be impossible. I would have to get free or stay bound for the entire week. There were no other alternatives.

I flipped over onto my back and ever so slowly inched my feet out over the stairs. When my hands came to position atop of the doorway threshold, I gripped the frame and allowed my feet and legs to sink down. It was like dropping into oblivion, scarier than I ever thought it would be. Were the stairs there? Would I be able to hold myself there? I very nearly bailed out, but I suddenly felt the heel tip of my right pump touch a stair tread. That foot, and then the other came to rest with the heels on the tread and the rest of the foot/shoe hanging off, dangling over the next step down.

I let my rear end drop down and found magically that it came to place exactly on a tread halfway between the one I was clutching with my hands and one my heel tips were hooked over. My back now was resting across the doorway threshold. I allowed it and the heels to hold myself, while I reach downward with my hands, underneath my rear to grasp the next tread down. This started the process all over again and yes the tension brought upon my thighs returned the feeling of potential cramps with a clarity sharper than reality.

I took it as best I could, inching down a tread, then resting a few minutes, then inching down again. I kept count and had descended eleven of the fourteen steps when the heel to my right pump snapped in two. I immediately slid to the right and totally out of control dropped off of the right side of the staircase. The fall was at worst only a couple of feet, but to me, it seemed like miles. My arms now were virtually useless. Battered, bruised and bleeding from chain cuts all around the wrists, all feeling had left them. My ankles I feared were little better. I resisted the urge to stretch down to feel for fear of starting the cramps. But I was sure that both were cut and bleeding.

I could see nothing and thanks to the tight taping about my head, I could hear nothing except for the intense pounding of my heart in my ears. I began sliding out into the basement and with surprising quickness, came upon the ice cold water puddle that had been the ice block. The chilled water felt good to my aching body as I slowly felt and move my way across it. I made four trips across the puddle before I felt several large drops of water across my chest, thus telling me that the block was still melting.

I had no choice other than to slide off to one side and wait. I'm sure I slept. I had to for I was exhausted. At one point I was relatively sure that I could make out a glow from upstairs. A kitchen nook there was surrounded in plate glass and I reasoned that night must have passed and it was now another day. Sometime later, the chiming ping of a key........my padlock key rang out across the basement. The chilled water and cool air had long since had me shivering. But with renewed vigor, I began inching out across the floor towards where I had heard the key fall. On my fifth pass, I found the key. Both hands were numb and fought my attempts to grasp the key and work it into the lock holding my wrists. In frustration, I forced myself to arch towards my feet. Cramps be damned I remember thinking. Grasping the lock between my ankles, I worked the key into the slot and turned. The lock popped open and with some wriggling about, my ankle chain fell away.

I eventually made my way back upstairs and with the aide of a mirror, freed my hands. I learned that I had been hogtied and gagged for right at 20 hours. Dozens of cuts encircled each wrist and ankle as well as numerous bruises, scrapes and carpet burns. Save for my bra, my outfit was little more than rags, shoes included. And due to the extended period of my bondage, My ear piercings, with a little help from make up healed enough to not be seen. Sometimes I wished that I had kept them. Would have made a hell of a momento of my first time.