Another Taxing Day

Saturday, April 12th, 2003, and Saturday, April 10th, 2004 have something in common.  They are the last Saturday before the income tax filing deadline of April 15th.  My husband George is a procrastinator, and always waits until the last weekend to prepare his tax return.  We are both self-employed professionals, and so we file separately.  (My tax return had already gone out in the mail).

On Saturday, April 12th, 2003, George tied me spreadeagled and naked on our king-size 4-poster bed for most of the day so that I couldn’t tease or distract him.

I like being tied hand and foot.  When I was a kid playing “Cowboys and Indians”, I always was the one that wound up being tied to a tree while the guys groped me.  “The Story of O” is one of my favorite books, and I have a hard bound copy on our coffee table.

As Saturday, April 10th, 2004 approached, George seemed to have forgotten about keeping me tied and naked for the day so he could get his tax return completed on time.  So I decided to take matters in my own hands and do some self-bondage.

Our house is a three-level split model (on a hilly lot) and the den/dungeon is on the second level.  It has a round wooden post about 8” in diameter in the middle room (I guess it is part of the support system of the third floor).  I have been tied to it a few times, and we have scratched it a few times with chains and handcuffs.  About once a year we give it a fresh coat of paint (usually just before we have family over for Thanksgiving dinner).

One day at a yard sale I bought a retired police officer’s nightstick.  It was made of fine smooth hardwood, and it was a little less than 2” in diameter.  It was about 14” in length, and had a rubber “keeper” ring around it that I snipped off.

On the evening of Friday, April 9th, I drilled a hole 2” in diameter in the post in our den/dungeon, about 30” above the floor.  I angled the hole downward, and was careful to only drill the hole about 4” deep.  I poured in a gob of wood glue and inserted the nightstick.  Sure enough, it looked just like an erect penis, sticking up hard and ready.

I also added an ankle cuff to each side of the post, a black leather waist belt, and a pair of nipple clamps attached together by a short bungee cord.  I took one of our ball gags and drilled a hole through it, and then mounted it on the post with a wood screw about 60” above the floor.  I screwed a screw eye into the far side of the post about 72” above the floor.

Friday night I had trouble sleeping.  Fantasies about being bound to the post made me toss and turn and be generally horny.  When Saturday morning broke, I ate and drank lightly and showered after breakfast.  George had an idea that I was up to a self-bondage adventure, and promised to check on me in an hour or two when he got bored with tax facts.

I dropped my robe on the sofa in the den/dungeon, and buckled a pair of locking leather wrist cuffs on my wrists (we prefer these to steel handcuffs).  Each wrist cuff has a “D” ring strategically placed.  I placed a lubricated condom over the protruding police nightstick (to prevent slivers).  I stepped up to the pole and bent over to buckle my ankles into the ankle cuffs affixed to each side of the pole (this turned out to take some gymnastics and bending, but it got done).

Then I spread my vaginal lips and slid the nightstick inside me.  It felt GREAT!  Big and round and hard.  It was big enough to stretch my love canal and it felt like it filled me completely.  I almost came right then, and had to move rapidly to finish the bondage quickly.

I strapped the leather waist strap around me in such a manner that it held my tummy tight to the post, and buckled it snugly behind my back.  Now I could not withdraw from the carnal embrace of the police night stick even if I wanted to.  I attached a nipple clamp to each of my boobs, and adjusted the bungee cord around the pole tightly enough that there was constant tension on my boobs.

I slid the ball gag into place and buckled the strap behind my head, tight enough that I could not dislodge it.  The ball gag was screwed solidly to the post, and so my lips and nose were pressed against the post.  I could not move my head, and my field of vision was limited by the girth of the post.

And then I wrapped my wrists around to the far side of the post, above my head.  After some fumbling with the padlock, I slipped the padlock through the “D” ring of each wrist cuff and through the screw eye in the back side of the post, and clicked it shut.

There I was, locked in an embrace with an 8” diameter post, making love to a police night stick.  It felt great.  By standing on my tip toes, I could slide back on the night stick, and then by going flat footed I slid down the night stick until my navel was tight against the unyielding post.  I humped away on the night stick with zest, and my first orgasm came quickly.  It was a beaut, starting somewhere deep in my toes and progressing throughout my body and feeling like it was going to send the top of my head into orbit.  I moaned into the gag and squirmed as much as my bonds would allow and probably looked very foolish, but if you have never had a walloping big orgasm while you are tied hand and foot, you just don’t know what you are missing.

And in only a minute or so, I was ready for another orgasm.  This was going to be a long day!  I humped away on the police nightstick and forgot about anything else and drooled and moaned into my gag.  Sweat trickled down my armpits and my leg muscles threatened to cramp.  Vaginal fluid runs down my thighs.  The air reeked of sex.  After a couple of orgasms I slowed down and just methodically humped the police night stick like the happy little camper that I was.  Mother Nature might have given men the gift of an external penis, but Mother Nature gave woman the gift of multiple orgasms.

My reverie was interrupted by George stopping by to tell me that he had to drive to his office (about a 20 minute trip one way) to retrieve some documents that he needed to finish his income tax return.  He complemented me on my ingenuity and wished me happy humping or something like that.  I did not like the idea of being left naked and helpless but the gag kept me incommunicado and so he gave me a friendly slap on the rump and then I heard the door close as he left.

Time passed, although there is no way for me to measure the passage of time.  I am enthusiastically humping my new friend the police night stick, but my arms are going to sleep above my head, and my leg muscles are complaining.  My jaw is starting to ache from the gag, and drool is running down my breasts.  I am starting to feel the imperfections in the wood of the post where my tummy is strapped against it.

I hear the front door open and close, and I jumped to the conclusion that George has returned.  Then I hear a female voice calling my name.  It is Janet, our neighbor from down the street.  Jan is a couple of years older than I am, and is a good friend of mine.  We meet for lunch occasionally, go to the mall occasionally, etc.

I hear her footsteps enter the room and I hear a sharp gasp of surprise.  Then I hear her pause and take in the whole scene – the obvious clues of self-bondage such as the mounted police nightstick and the keys lying on my neatly folded bathrobe on the sofa.  Jan steps around in front of me, where I can see her, and smirks at me.

“Well, well, what do we have here?  A little private self-pleasure?  I guess you were not expecting visitors?”  Janet circled me and ran her fingers across my cuffs and straps.  Smiling broadly, she jerked on the bungee cord that connects my nipple clamps, watching (and enjoying) my reaction.

My field of vision is limited.  Due to the gag that is anchored to the post, I can only see a little out of my peripheral vision.  Janet steps out of my field of vision and a minute later she runs her fingers down my naked spine.  I shiver.  She runs her fingers up the crack of my ass and I squirm.  She takes some drool from my gag on the tip of a finger and forces my ass cheeks apart and slides a finger deep inside my rectum.  With a police night stick deep in my vagina and a finger probing in my rectum, I am almost overcome with the strong sensations.  My head swims and I moan into my gag.

Janet withdraws and steps away, still out of my field of vision.  Just as I get my heart rate under control I hear what sounds like a towel being twisted into an improvised whip.  Sure enough, I hear the whistle of a towel cutting through the air and the snap as it contacts my right buttock.  It feels like a hot poker.  I jerk as far as my bonds will allow, which also thrusts the police night stick deeper into my love canal.  I almost swoon from the sensation.  A minute later I hear the sound again, and this time the towel snaps my left buttock, and again I withdraw from the blow, and again the police night stick probes me deeply.  I am awash in alternating sensations of pain and pleasure.  Janet continues her assault, alternating between my right buttock and left buttock.  I know the towel must be leaving purple marks, and I will have difficulty sitting down for the rest of the day.

After a while Janet tires of her game, and drops the towel.  She embraces me from behind, her breasts and her tee shirt rubbing my back while she blows in my ears and nibbles my shoulder blades.  Her hands roam the sides of my breasts, playing with the nipple clamps.  Janet steps around in front of me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

Then with a deep sigh she is gone.  I hear her steps toward the door, and the door slams.  I am left alone with my sensations and emotions of pain and pleasure.

Sometime later George returns from his errand with his tax info in his hand.  He apologizes for taking so long, and hands me the keys so I can release myself from my wrist cuffs.  He does not notice the marks on my backside, and after I release myself from the gag I decide not to mention the visit from Janet.  I unsnap the nipple clamps, unbuckle the waist strap, and slide my vagina off the police night stick.  I have to sit down to undo the ankle cuffs, and I almost collapse.  After a few minutes of lying on the rug, I stagger to my feet and collect my robe and the towel and head off to the bathroom.

On Sunday, I met with Janet for a glass of wine and we talked about the incident.  We both decided it would be best to keep it as our own little secret, and tell nobody.
 
 
 

10.06.04