Bound for You

 

Chapter One:  Volunteered

My legs trembled with nervous energy as I stepped out of the shower. I had less than an hour to get dressed and catch a bus for down town.  I've been nearly sick with anxiety all morning, and I had no way of contacting my sub to cancel our meeting.  That phrase, "my sub", sounded so foreign to me.  He would be waiting for me at a fetish club downtown.  We had some time reserved in a private play room.  I've never acted as a Dom for anyone before.  I did have a couple of experiences with boyfriends tying me up, but they just didn't understand what I wanted out of the experience.  I guess that was as much my fault as theirs.  Growing up, I always felt deeply ashamed of my self-bondage experiences, and I found it difficult to share with people what I did, let alone why I liked it.

I remember being interested in bondage since I was little girl.  I remember eagerly volunteering to be the bound damsel in distress in the neighbourhood games.  It didn't matter to me if all the other kids were either cops and robbers, or cowboys and Indians, or even knights and dragons.  I had gotten very good at getting loose and escaping, which would end the game, and the team trying to protect me would automatically win.  That's when little Tommy took an interest in making sure I was tied up good and tight.

These games were popular with the neighbourhood kids for about two summers.  But once I started developing breasts, my parents started disapproving of me getting tied up to Tommy's oak tree, game or no game.  That was the first time I felt I had to hide my interest in bondage.  Although high-school was very repressive, University was like opening a Pandora's Box. I learned new techniques from the internet, and started developing email "pen pals" to discuss self-bondage with.

I reminisced about those early days of innocent sexual exploration as I started dressing.  I normally don't dress up for self-bondage, so I had to go shopping for some appropriate clothing.  Although I was going to be playing the role of a Dom, the whole situation felt like a self-bondage scene for me.  I had created this situation myself, and now I was committed to playing it out.  It's not the first time I've worn sexy clothes, but in the past, it was always in the context of having sex.  This seemed very different.  I wondered about this as I picked up two bras and tried deciding which one to wear.  Both were black, but one was made from a sheer see-thru material, the other was a standard bra with better support.  I figured that my dress was going to come off as some point during the session, and I wondered how much I should be revealing.  As with any self-bondage situation, I let my gut make the decision.  The thought of displaying me in the see-thru bra made my stomach twist and clench.  I put the other down and slipped the sheer material over my breasts and connected the strap in the back.

The corset with garter straps went on next.  I laced it as tight as I could, and it gave me a nice hour-glass shape.  I was starting to run out of time, and I felt a bit panicked.  I slipped on a black thong, connected the thigh-high stockings to the garter straps, and climbed into the new pair of two-inch shiny black high-heeled shoes.   I walked over to the full-length mirror and soaked in the sight.  I would have been less terrified being seen completed naked than in this.  This outfit revealed too much about my hidden desires.  There was no time to chicken out now.  I had to leave right away, so I slipped on my 'Little Black Dress' over the whole outfit, a white trench coat over that, and bolted out the door.

I caught the bus from the corner just by my apartment and sat near the front on one of the long benches that faced sideways.  As the bus headed downtown, I mentally rehearsed what I would say to my sub, and how I wanted to manage the session with him.  The first time we met was at a local munch.  It was an informal gathering of people interested in bondage.  I started attending these about two years ago, just to meet new people and see if I could meet new friends.  I was tired of constantly concealing my deepest and darkest desires from friends and family.  I wanted to be able to talk to a real human being, face-to-face, about bondage.

I spotted him for the first time as I casually sauntered into a munch just a few days ago.  He was chatting with some people I had met at earlier munches.  He was cute, and he seemed a little overwhelmed by the attention he was receiving.  Not wanting to appear too eager, I got myself a drink before strolling over to the small chattering group.  As I got within earshot of the gaggle of bondagers, I heard one shout out "maybe Erika would like to try?"  I stopped dead in my tracks as I heard my name volunteered and 'seconded' by another.  "Yeah, Erika would be perfect for this."

Several members of the group swung sharply to face me as I declared. "Erika would be perfect for what?!" 

Jessica smiled wickedly at me and said "This is Anthony," grasping him gently by the elbow and advancing him through the small crowd towards me.  Jessica was the only person that I had confided in that I was a 'self'-bondager, with limited and poor experiences as a bottom, and absolutely no experience as a top.  "Anthony is very interested in being topped.  I suggested that you might be the perfect first time partner" cooed Jessica.  Staring deep into my eyes, she continued "You HAVE topped before, haven't you?"  I caught on quickly.  Jessica knew otherwise, but obviously felt that this was a good opportunity for me.

Not wanting to embarrass her, I cocked my head back, straightened my shoulders and declared, "Yes, on occasion..."

"Perfect!" Exclaimed Jessica, cutting me off before I had a chance to ruin the deception.  "It just so happens that I have some time booked in a play room that I can't use.  Anthony, be a darling and give me your number, I'll have Erika call you tomorrow."

I barely had a chance to say hello before Jessica had whisked me away and out of the munch.  We spent the rest of the evening in a coffee shop talking about how to prepare for my first topping experience.

As the bus ran over a pot hole, I was instantly jolted back to the present moment.  I was to call Anthony the next evening with specific instructions.  I told him that I want to get an idea of what bondage activities he had experienced, and what methods of discipline he enjoyed.  For our first session, I wanted him to demonstrate a typical self-bondage scene he had designed.  I would spend the session asking questions, and learning more about him.  He was to bring his bag of goodies.  If I was going to consider a second meeting with him, he had to be prepared to be open and honest about his bondage desires.  I asked him if he understood these instructions, and he responded "Yes".  I took a long pause, and then in a sweet voice and a huge grin on my face I asked:  "Yes --- what?"  By the tone of his voice I could tell he was smiling too. 

He responded "Yes...Mistress."

Chapter Two: Getting Aquainted.

I was so lost in the memory of that call, that I almost missed my stop.  I quickly rang the bell and stepped out of the bus into the cool air of a Fall day.  I could see Anthony up the street, standing near the entrance of the fetish club, a large pack back swung over one shoulder.  As I approached, I beamed a large smile and stuck my hand out to shake his.  "Hello Anthony, I'm so glad to see you." 

I knew that I was responsible for setting the tone.  I wanted him to know how much I respected him and didn't want him to feel ashamed of his self-bondage activities.  "Lets go inside where it's warmer."

Anthony followed me in to the club.  My own stomach was doing cartwheels.  I could only imagine what it was like for him.  I signed the registry and collected a key for a play room from the attendant.  The key had a large tag with a large #5 on both sides.  I had been at the club once before, for a New Year's Eve party, and I knew my way around.  I pressed on and walked up the stairs to the second floor.  Anthony followed silently.  We were not alone on the floor.  As we past doors 1 thru 4, I could hear the distinct sounds of pleasure derived through pain.

I unlocked the door to our room and held the door for Anthony to enter.  The room was well-light but had a dimmer switch for more romantic moods.  A simple bed was in the center of the room with a thick iron canopy frame, ideal for many bondage positions.  Its mattress was bare, with a set of clean white sheets folded neatly at the foot.  Solid metal wall anchors were located along the bottom and top of one wall.  A small step-stool was provided to reach the higher anchor points.  The only other piece of furniture was a long narrow table at the foot of the bed.  I suspected this was to lay out any equipment you bought with you.  In the corner was a small sink, complete with small soaps wrapped in paper, clean towels, and a laundry hamper.

As I walked over to the bed, I started taking off my trench coat and casually instructed Anthony what to do.  "Anthony, unpack your bag and put your gear on the table." 

I laid my coat on the bed and turned to watch Anthony meticulously placing familiar items in a neat row along the table.  It was obvious that he took pride in his organized approach to bondage.  I often wondered if most bondagers had some element of obsessive-compulsiveness.  Sloppy bondage just turns me off, and I appreciate intricate and neat rope-work.

Anthony's hands trembled slightly as he tried to lay out his materials quickly in a well organized fashion.  This is probably the first time he had ever displayed his collection to anyone.  I could well imagine how surreal this must be to be sharing such personal items with a near stranger.

Anthony had an impressive collection.  Most of the items were familiar: several pieces of rope, each neatly coiled, leather wrist and ankle cuffs with a set of single keyed locks, a small length of chain, about a dozen metal rings, ball-gag, hand-cuffs, nipple clamps on a chain, clothes pins, a ball of smooth twine, a pair of safety scissors a fresh tube of personal lubricant, and a couple of stockings for ice-cube release mechanisms.   However, a couple of items caught my eye.  He had brought an empty toilet paper roll, some electrical tape, and a box of thumb tacks.  This peaked my interest.

"Have you already planned what you are going to show me today, like I asked?"

Anthony responded "Yes, yes I have Mistress" He looked nervous. 

"Good, I am really looking forward to seeing it.  I want you know that, and I want you to feel comfortable.  This is supposed to be fun." 

A smile appeared on his face and I could see he began to relax a bit. "It's just that I've never done this in front of anyone before."

"It's OK.  I know that I am going to enjoy seeing what you have to offer. But before we start, let's discuss some ground rules.  Rule #1 is: what happens in this room; stays in this room.  We both promise never to share with anyone else what goes on in here.  Rule #2 is: use safe words.  If you say the word Red, then everything stops.  Otherwise, I assume any distress you are experiencing is within your limits.  If you say Yellow, then I ease up on whatever I am doing.  Rule #3 is:  be open and honest.  These are our only opportunities to truly be free and experiment with what pleases us.  Don't hold back anything.  Rule #4 is: you need to treat me with utmost respect while we are playing.  You don't speak unless asked a question, and when I do ask a question, you give me an honest answer immediately.  Don't think, just answer."

"Do you understand these rules?"

"Yes Mistress" Anthony seemed a little more relaxed now that he had some sort of expectation of the ground rules.  I decided to take this opportunity to get him to open up a bit more.

"Do you like being tied up?"

"Yes Mistress"

"How long do you usually tie yourself up for?"

"Usually two hours Mistress."

"What is the longest you've been tied up?"

"I once chained myself to my living-room couch for 36 hours, wearing only a restrictive cock-cage, Mistress."

"What did you do during all that time?"

"I mostly watched movies, some of it pornography, Mistress."

"Do you watch bondage pornography?"

"I download it from the internet, Mistress."

"Have you ever performed self-bondage outdoors?"

"When I was younger, Mistress."

"Have you ever been discovered?"

"No, but I have had close calls when I lived at home, Mistress."

I continued to pepper Anthony with ever increasing personal questions about his most private obsession.  With each answer it seemed like a brick was being lifted from his chest. "Very good.  I would like you to start preparing for the self-bondage you are going to demonstrate for me.  I want you to explain what you are doing at all times."

"Yes Mistress."

Chapter Three: Anthony's Self-bondage

Anthony walked over to the table and retrieved several items.  "I am going to bind myself in an asymetrical bondage position.  I will be standing on just one leg, and partially suspend myself using a full body-harness made of rope.  I don't have any ice for a release mechanism.  Is it alright if I don't use one, Mistress?"

"Yes, I will let you free at some point."

"Thank you Mistress."

Anthony proceeded to prepare for the self-bondage session.  Standing on the step-stool, he used a short piece of rope to tie two metal rings to an anchor.  He then passed a long piece of rope through the double rings and left it hanging from the wall. 

"When I am done, all I will need to do is pull on this rope, and it will secure both wrists, and help support my weight while I remain standing on one leg."

Returning to the table, he picked up the empty toilet paper roll.  Taking a small jack-knife from his pocket, he carefully cut a one-inch section of roll.  "I often include some form of self-inflicted pain in my self-bondage sessions.  This is a method I came up with a year ago. I put thumb-tacks in the toilet paper roll with the pins pointing inward.  I put this on the base of my penis, and if I get an erection, well, ...you can think if it as a mini-cilice."

I could feel the blood rush to my face as he explained his torture devise to me.  "I see.  Just how painful is it?"

"It depends on how many tacks I use.  With only three tacks, it leaves enough room for my penis to expand, and I only get a moderate amount of pressure on the tacks.  The more pins I add, the more painful it is.  The first time I tested it, I tried eight tacks, and I immediately had to cut it off." 

Anthony lifted the pair of safety scissors to indicate how to remove the devilish device if the need arose. 

"For this session, I am going to use six tacks."

Anthony proceeded to assemble his DIY medieval torture device by inserting the tacks into the paper roll.  After, he wrapped electrical tape around the outside, covering the heads of the tacks.  "This is to ensure that the tacks don't get pushed out."

Placing the device back down on the table, Anthony looked about, trying to figure out what else he could do while still clothed.  Seeing nothing else that he could prepare, he resigned himself to the inevitable.  I felt like a privileged voyeur as he began to undo the buttons of his neatly pressed shirt.  He grew silent and avoided eye-contact as he quickly pressed forward.  Shoes, socks, and pants came off in quick succession. 

Wearing a pair of loose boxers, he picked up the wrist cuffs and put them on and threaded two locks through the clasps, but did not close the locks.  He needed to leave them open for some reason.  He picked up the home-made miniature cilice and two more coils of rope, one of the coils was quite large and I suspect it was to be used for the body-harness. He walked over to the wall where he had previously prepared the rope with the one-way double-ring device. 

Facing away from me, he slipped off his boxers and left them near his feet along with the two coils of rope.  From behind, I could tell that he was carefully installing the cilice on his penis. Anthony then proceeded to fashion a rope harness for himself.  He deftly began manipulating the rope. First finding the middle and folding the rope in two.  He tied a knot about a foot from the fold, and placed it on the back of his neck, with the two loose ends descending in front of his chest. 

A series of well-placed knots followed, each about 6 inches apart and ended just over his genitals.  He looped the free ends on either side of this cock and balls, and measured where they would meet his anus, and then tied a complex over-sized knot that would rest on his anus as he wrapped the rope under his torso and fed it through the first loop he had fashion that rested at the back of his neck. He brought the two free ends around each side of chest, and threaded them between the first two knots that ran down the center of his chest and stomach.  He pulled each rope back in the opposite direction and as he took up the tension, it spread the rope apart between the two knots, and increased the tension of the entire harness. 

He continued to pass the ropes behind his back, and threaded them between the next two knots.  The harness kept tightening with each pass, progressively sinking the knots and ropes deeper into his body. Keeping his back to me, Anthony turned his attention to the long rope installed on the wall.  He took one end of the cord, and passed it under all the ropes that ran across his back, and tied off at the base of the harness in the small of his back.  Then, with his left hand, he grabbed a section of the rope from the middle of his back, and pulled it out to form a long loop, and left it hanging for later use.  I wasn't certain what it was to be used for.

He finally turned to face me, his head lowered.  He leaned against the wall, and raised his right leg.  With his thigh perpendicular to his body, his knee bent, he brought his right foot up to his thigh, as high as it would go.  Using the last length of rope, he began wrapping it around his right ankle and thigh to hold them together.  He finished by cinching the coil.  He could no longer lower his right foot to the ground. Still leaning against the wall, he reached behind his back with his left hand and brought the long loop around to his front.  He placed the rope inside the unclosed lock from his left wrist cuff and closed it shut. 

Next, he reached over his head with his free right hand, and did the same with the rope descending from the double ring device. In silence, Anthony began pulling on the free end of the cord, pulling it through the double rings.  As he did so, the long loop attached to his left wrist cuff starting getting shorter.  As it got shorter, it pulled his left wrist behind his back, and held it there securely.  Anthony pulled a bit more until it pulled his body upright onto his left leg, and he could no longer lean against the wall.  He continued to pull a bit more until he was now standing on the ball of his left foot, the body harness digging deep into his hips and crotch.  His right hand had no where to go as the wrist cuff was attached to the rope that was holding him upright.

Chapter Four: Pain is itself a Pleasure.

The asymmetry and design of his bondage was magnificent.  His body formed an elegant zigzag pattern with his legs and arms folded and pointing out in alternate directions. The room was quiet and neither of us moved for several minutes.  I suspect Anthony was concentrating on not getting an erection.  While I had prepared myself for the build-up to this moment, I wasn't quite certain of what to do once I got here. I stepped over to my bound performer and slowly ran my finger tips across his chest.  It was like touching him with a live wire.  He shuddered as my fingers grassed his skin.

"I am very impressed.  I want you to know that I am really pleased with what you are showing me today."

Through clenched teeth, he responded "Thank you Mistress".  

He was obviously in pain.  I glanced down to see why.  With each pulse of his quickening heart beat, his semi-erect penis was starting to press into the sharp points of the tacks.  I bent down to retrieve his discarded boxers.  Nobody likes a messy bondage scene.  While I was crouched down, his half erect penis was at the same level as my face.  Before standing up again, I took the opportunity to gently blow on the tip of his penis.  Anthony let out a short gasp while his whole body contorted as he vainly tried to distance his penis away from the gentle breeze.  I was enthralled by the amount of torment I could cause with such little effort. I stood up and looked at Anthony with a devilish grin on my face. 

"You had best start thinking of baseball or your grandmother if you don't want that to get any bigger".

Anthony closed his eyes, and breathed deeply.  Soon, his erection subsided and he began to relax again.  I stepped back as though examining art work from an appropriate distance. If I was going to lose the dress, now was the time. I was about to tell Anthony to open his eyes and look at me, when a frightful thought entered my mind:  'what if he doesn't find me attractive?' 

Well into my 30's, I still considered myself attractive, but I was far from the tight and pert 18-20 year olds he was probably used to looking at. Shaking, worried that the sight of me in fetish apparel would have no effect on him, I slowly and silently slipped out of my dress and tossed it aside.  As my anxiety level rose, I took one last breath and said in a soft and gentle tone, "Anthony,.....please look at me."

Upon opening his eyes, his irises grew.  He stared at me; his eyes darting up and down, not certain what to look at most.  My worst fears were allayed when his lustful gaze turned to painful anguish and moans of torment.  Anthony was fully erect and the shaft of his penis was pressing hard against the ring of tacks. While my self-esteem rose a couple of notches, I was feeling guilty about causing such discomfort. I approached Anthony and laid my head on his left shoulder.  With my left hand, I reached down and cupped his testicles and massaged them gently. 

"I really am sorry about that.  I really should do something to make you feel better.  What's the easiest way to get rid of an erection?"  I paused for a moment of reflection.  "Oh!  I know!"

I returned to the table with Anthony's gear laid out and retrieved the tube of lubricant, and his pair of safety scissors.  I slipped the scissors into the top of one of my thigh-high stockings; like a cowboy holstering a pistol.  Discharging a generous amount off lubricant onto my fingertips of my right hand, I returned to my silently suffering sub.  His eyes were as large as saucers. 

"No, please, no more" he pleaded.

I approached his right-hand side, and slid my left leg between his right leg and the wall and straddled his right thigh.  This pushed his pelvis forward.   I wrapped my left arm around his chest and pressed my vagina against his upper thigh.  As I slathered the tip of his penis with lubricant, I whispered in his ear.  "I want you to cum for me, but only when I say so.  You tell me when you are near.  Do you understand?"

A quick "Yes Mistress" was blurted out between his short quick breaths.

As I massaged the tip of penis, I could tell that his tolerance for pain was increasing.  He was becoming lost in the pain and the pleasure.  Being careful not to move or hit his cilice, I began slowly fucking his cock with my hand.  He responded to each stroke by thrusting his hip forward. I tightened my clasp on his body and began grinding my clit into his leg.  I started moaning slightly when he exclaimed loudly:  "I'm close Mistress, very close!"

I halted my massage, and just started making little circles with one finger on the opening of his urethra.  He was in anguish.  His whole body tensed up, straining against his bonds.  I leaned over to his ear.  "Ask for it.  You have to ask for it nicely."

"Please Mistress.  Please, may I cum, please."

"Who owns your penis?"

"You do Mistress!" Satisfied that I had fulfilled my role as a Dom, I resumed stroking his penis, first slowly, and picking up speed as I noticed his body preparing for an explosive discharge of tension.  He screamed as he came and I felt 5 or 6 waves of fluid being pumped through his cock before I stopped stroking him.  I held his cock in my hand as the residual tremors of his orgasm traveled through his body.

Chapter Five: Picking up the Pieces.

His cock was still thick, but becoming less erect.  Still holding his cock in my right hand, I stepped out in front of him and pulled out the safety scissors with my left hand.  With one snip, the cilice sprang off and the pain of removal made him cry out loud.  His body shuddered one last time as I wrapped my finger and thumb around the base of his penis, and milked the remaining sperm from his urethra.  He wasn't looking at me, his head was bent down and I was having difficulty reading his mood.

I walked over to the sink and quickly washed my hands of the lubricant and sperm.  I returned with a wash cloth rinsed in warm water and gingerly wrapped his penis in it.  After a few moments, I carefully cleaned off the remainder of the lubricant from his genitals and then I mopped up the floor before tossing the wash cloth in the hamper and washed my hands again. I untied the coil of rope wrapped around his right thigh and ankle, and gently guided his foot back to the ground. 

"Turn around a face the wall Anthony." 

My self-bondage sub complied.  I started untying the rope that held his two wrist cuffs in place when I heard the unmistakable sound of a sniffle.  It was the type of sniffle people make when they are desperately trying not to fall apart. As I released his hands and body harness from the suspension rope, he instinctively covered his face to hide the shame of crying, and slowly sunk to the floor, crouching against the wall.

In the softest, most compassionate voice I could muster, I inquired:  "Anthony!  What's wrong?  Please tell me."

In a low voice, he muttered "I just feel a bit foolish, that's all" as he swept tears from his face.  "I can only imagine what you must think of me.  'A man that ties himself up.' You must think I'm pathetic?"

"Anthony, I want you to know that I know how you feel."

Anthony protested, "How can you know how ashamed I feel right now?"

I was taken aback by Anthony's retaliation.  This was obviously a very emotional experience, and I knew that I had to do something to build him back up again. "'I know how you feel', because,... I do it myself."

Anthony looked up at me. "I've been tying myself up since high school.  I know what it's like to think that you're a freak.  But the truth is that what you do is spectacular.  You're the first person I've watched tie themselves up.  I wasn't sure how I would react to it, and I am not sure how to describe it now that I have seen it.  It was magnificent!"

I picked up Anthony's clothes and brought them over to him.  I was trying to find the words to adequately describe the mind-blowing experience of watching Anthony tie himself up, place himself at my disposal, and knowing full well that this is exactly what he wanted.  It was like opening up his mind and being allowed to look inside his most private fantasies. "I think there is only one way for me to convince you of how much I appreciate what you did for me."

Chapter Six: An Object Lesson

As Anthony dressed himself, I turned my attention to his bondage supplies.  "Anthony, while I am preparing a couple of things, would you please make the bed." 

Anthony proceeded to unfold the clean white sheet on the mattress.  He paid as much attention to the details of making the bed as he did to his self-bondage as attested to by the perfect hospital corners.  Some women are turned on by flowers, but I like a man that knows how to make a bed. With the bed made, I laid out the necessary supplies that I would need.  In the center, I placed a coil of rope, large enough for me to easily insert both hands and twist into a figure eight.  Near the head of the bed and to one side, I put a set of nipple clamps. 

At the foot of the bed, I tied two sets of double rings.  Through one set, I ran a long piece of thin twine.  It ran from the center of the bed through the rings at the foot, then straight up and over the canopy frame, to the head of the bed and then straight down.  Through the second set of double rings, I ran a length of 1/4 inch cord starting at the center of bed, through the double rings, and back to the center of the bed. 

On the end that would be shortened, I tied an elaborate hangman's noose. Anthony watched with slack-jawed amazement as I slipped off my high-heeled shoes and climbed up onto the bed.  "I usually don't do this position as it is very strenuous, but I figure that I have you to help me if I need to get out." 

Anthony looked on in disbelief.

"Anthony, could you please bring me two ankle cuffs, the locks, and two more pieces of rope?" 

His jaw snapped shut as he processed the request and walked in zombie like fashion over to the table to retrieve the items. I extended one leg, pointing my toe, as Anthony approached.  "Would you mind?" I asked coyly. 

Anthony ran his hands along my foot, up to my ankle, before wrapping the leather cuff around my limb and securing it with a small pad lock.  As the lock clicked, I practically gushed.  I only hoped I didn't produce a small puddle. I offered my second leg and without a word of exchange, Anthony repeated the procedure.  "Thank you Anthony, I'll take it from here."

I took the two cords and tied them to the left and right hand sides of the frame at the head of the bed.  I then knelt in the middle of the bed, facing the foot of the bed.  I reached back and took the cord on the left side and threaded it though the lock on the left ankle cuff, and tied it off.  I did the same on the right hand side. I slipped off my bra, and instantly felt more vulnerable.  I instinctively covered my breasts with one arm while I picked up the nipple clamps from the bed. 

I looked up at Anthony as if to communicate that this sacrifice was for him, and carefully applied the clamps first to one nipple, then the other.  Reaching behind me, I grabbed the end of the thin twine that I had laid over the top of the bed frame.  I brought it over my shoulder, and tied it to the middle of the chain that connected the two nipple clamps.  I raised the string and applied a moderate amount of tension to see if the clamps pulled equally on each nipple. Satisfied that everything was in place, I began the last phase of my demonstration for Anthony. 

While on my knees, I leaned backwards until my back rested on the bed, my legs bent at the knee.  I maneuvered both hands behind my back and located the coiled loop and the hangman's noose.  I slipped the coil around my left wrist, then slipped the coil through the noose, and then slipped my right wrist through the coil. With my right hand, I located the other end of the thin twine that was connected to the nipple clamps.  I pulled on it until the slack dissipated.  As I continued to pull slowly, my breasts were drawn upwards, stretching my nipples.  I didn't go too far.  Just enough to be mildly uncomfortable.

Lastly I reached for the other end of the cord with the noose.  As I began to pull on it, my hands were drawn towards the foot of the bed.  In successive movements, I would pull on the cord, and then pull my hands back to draw the noose tighter and tighter until the coiled loop was completely cinched around my wrists.  I continued to pull to draw my wrists, arms and shoulders further towards the foot of the bed, and my back began to arch, thrusting my breasts upwards.  My ankles would move forward slightly, taking up what little slack there was in the cords that connected them to the head of the bed.

"You see Anthony, you're not the only self-bondage freak in the world.  I've been doing this much longer than you have.  Do you think I should be ashamed, or do you think I should enjoy myself?"

Chapter Seven:  The Tide Turns.

Anthony stood silent for what seemed like an eternity.  I prodded him further.  "Well, what do you think?"

"I think that is the sexiest thing anyone has ever done for me!"

I blushed with pride.  "Well, thanks, I'm still pretty limber, but these types of positions are pretty hard for me stay in for too long." 

I gabbed away while Anthony started circling me. "I'm sure I will be paying for it tomorrow."

"How do you usually manage to get yourself out of this?"  Anthony asked.

"Instead of tying my ankles to the headboard, I have both ends meet in the middle behind the headboard.  On one, I tie a steel ring, on the other, I tie a sock with an ice cube inside.  The sock is first threaded through the ring.  When the ice melts, my legs are free.  Also, I usually don't use the coiled loop for my wrists, I prefer to use wrist cuffs.  They are safer to escape from.  I don't like the idea to trying to slice the ropes behind my back.  I am always afraid of cutting my wrists."

Distracted by my ingenuity, I had not noticed that Anthony had disappeared from view. "Anthony, where are you?  I can't see you."

He popped up at the foot of the bed with a long box in his hands.  "I'm right here.  I was just getting something out of my bag."

"Out of your bag?  I thought I told you to unpack all your gear?" I scolded.

"I did, but this isn't mine, its yours."  Anthony retorted.

It suddenly dawned on me that Anthony was no longer playing the role of sub, and had stopped referring to me as Mistress.  Considering my current state, I didn't think it was wise to be too harsh.  Being as pleasant as possible, I inquired,  "Mine? I don't recall bringing anything with me?"

"Oh, this is a gift.  It's from Jessica."  Anthony explained.  "She said I should pull it out if you happen to tie yourself up." 

In one smooth motion, Anthony unsheathed the contents of the box and held it up for both of us to admire.  It was the largest vibrator I had ever seen.  It had a large handle and plugged into the wall instead of using batteries.  The business end was a large bulb, not a phallic shape. My head spun with conflicting emotions.  I was fearful of what Anthony's intentions might be.  I was infuriated by the audacity Jessica had to assume I would end up tying myself up.  But mostly I was embarrassed by the fact that Jessica was actually able to predict my behavior. 

My breathing got noticeably heavier, and I broke out into a sweat. Anthony walked over to the side of the bed and plugged the vibrator into an outlet installed on the frame of the bed, then leaned over in order to look directly into my eyes.  "Now, you do remember the safe words, don't you?"

That was just too much for me to bare!  It's one thing to have my friend conspire with Anthony to make me a victim of sexual torture, it was quite another force me to chose between wimping out or admitting that I like it. Anthony turned the vibrator on and off to test it, and walked back over to the foot of the bed.  He gently took hold of the twine that was attached to the nipple clamps, gave it a gentle tug, and enquired once again. 

"Well, do know your safe words or not?  If you don't answer, I will release you and return Jessica's little gift."

As intended, the tugging on the nipple clamps successfully captured my attention.  If I didn't answer, Anthony would release me, and I would never hear the end of it from Jessica. 

With bared teeth, I seethed.  "Yes, I know the damn safe words!"

"Good, we can get started then.  I think you're going to like this.  I really appreciate this opportunity to see what it's like to have someone tie themselves up for me.  I didn't realize just how much of a rush it was.  It really has changed my perspective."

"I'm so glad." I replied dryly.

Anthony took the free end of the twine and brought it over to the side of the bed and knelt down such that his head was just above the mattress.  He held the twine a few inches above the mattress, far enough back so that I could plainly see it.  He held it taut, and looked straight into my eyes.  My gaze darted back and forth between the twine and his face.  It was obvious that he was going to increase the tension on the line, but that wasn't enough for him, he also wanted me to anticipate it; fear it. He wanted to see it in my eyes.

Anthony moved his focus from my eyes to my breasts as he began to pull on the twine.  With the first tug, I felt my nipples stretch.  He continued to pull on the twine with sharp small tugs, pulling it a centimeter at a time.  Both he and I monitored the effect closely as my poor nipples were pulled further and further out.  I compensated as much as I could by arching my back and raising my breasts as much as possible.  I could no longer look forward as I was using my head to help support my chest.  My field of vision was limited to an upside-down view of the head of the bed.

In my periphery, I could see Anthony stand up and return towards the foot of the bed.  I could no longer see what he was up to.  I shudder as something cool and smooth came into contact with my right thigh.  Anthony moved it slowly up my thigh towards my hips and said: "Please don't get upset, I promise to replace them."

"Replace wha...."

My enquiry was cut short as I heard the snip of the safety scissors, and the waist band of my underwear suddenly released.  I wasn't sure what I was more nervous about, losing my underwear or the fact that he would see just how aroused I was.  Anthony finished cutting loose my black thong, and confiscated it.  As the cool air came into contact with my genitals, I felt a heightened sense of vulnerability.  My pussy was exposed and not only could I not cover myself, but I couldn't even see what was going to happen to it.

Moments later, a shock wave traveled through my body as cold clear lubricant was generously applied to my folds.  I gasp out load, and tried desperately to catch my breath as Anthony continued to apply and spread the cool lubricant. Next I heard the familiar sound of the vibrator's hum.  The sound alone initiated a pavlovian response, but it's not my mouth that salivated.  I cooed as the mere sound of the device made my clit tingle with anticipation.   It engorged with blood, and I felt my lips part as it protruded like a title's head peeking out of is shell.

"Lovely, absolutely lovely."  Anthony admired.

Anthony continued to slowly raise the power level of the vibrator, letting me listen as the volume and frequency of the buzzing increased until it peaked at a high pitched roar.  Anthony wasn't going to start me off slowly.   With the vibrator set at its highest level, Anthony smothered my pussy with it.  I gasped as it created an overwhelming amount of simultaneous sensations.  Everything from my belly button to my anus shook, producing a flood of erotic stimulation.

Forgetting myself, I moaned "Oh,  yes, yes, YES!!" as I grinded my pelvis in unison with Anthony's circular motion of the vibrator.

It was obvious Anthony knew how to build a woman's orgasm quickly.  He maintained a light pressure, and alternated between quick and slow patterns of movement.  Quick back and forth movements to initiate sparks, and slow circles to fan the flames.   It was building and building and building.  As I neared the precipice, my body began to tense, tighter and tighter, until I was armed like a crossbow, waiting for the trigger to be pulled. A final set of quick back and forth swipes across my clit and my orgasm was unleashed.  The first wave was so strong, I couldn't prevent myself from crunching my abdomen and tucking in my chin as I braced against the flood of sensations.  I screamed as the nipple clamps were torn away, and I braced myself for the multiple waves of uncontrollable contortion.

After the first few seconds of intense pleasure, the stimulation from the vibrator soon turned to torment as I became hypersensitive.  Anthony held the vibrator squarely on my pussy, as I thrashed about, vainly trying to evade it.  I could hear myself screaming but it seemed to come from someone else.  My conscious mind was vainly searching for my safe word, but the unrelenting flood of stimuli made it impossible to focus. Finally, Anthony took pity on me, and switched off the vibrator.  I collapsed a quivering mound of flesh. 

"Red" I managed to whisper.  Red".

Anthony untied each ankle, and gently unfolded my legs.  I was drenched in sweat, my eyes shut, still trying to catch my breath.  Everything was sensitive, and the pain in my legs, back, shoulders and arms started to creep back into my consciousness.  Anthony gently rolled me onto my side to access my bound hands, and with a few snips of his scissors, my hands were free. 

Despite being unbound, I could barely move, and depended entirely on Anthony to maneuver my body into a comfortable resting position.  I desperately want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close, but my hands remained motionless. He covered me with my trench coat and I had to resist the urge to drift off to sleep while he began dismantling all the ropes and repacking his gear into his bag.  When he was done, he brought my bra and dress over to me and said it was time to go.

Chapter Eight: The Proposition

The clock radio gently pulled me out of my slumber.  I hesitated to move.  I knew that Saturday's activities would be back to haunt me.  When I got home last night, I found a message on my machine from Jessica.  She wanted a full debriefing over brunch.  "The bitch".  How dare she think that brunch at "l'Auberge" could possible buy my forgiveness.  Mind you, they do make the best crepes.  The thought of those crepes with a raspberry coulee helped me overcome the pain of movement.  I crawled to the shower and got myself ready for free food, and attitude.

As I entered the lobby of l'Auberge, someone slipped their arm through mine, and I looked over to find Jessica walking along side with a Cheshire cat-grin.  "Darling,  I can barely stand it.  You must tell me everything."  she implored.

"Food first, talk later."  I replied.

As coffee was poured, I described in coded language the events that transpired the previous day.  Unlike Jessica, I wasn't very comfortable talking about bondage out in the open.

"Well it sounds like you had a wonderful time.  Did you like my little gift?"  She asked with a smug look on her face.

"You must by quite proud of yourself, anticipating that I would tie myself up?"  I replied, avoiding her question.

"Tying yourself up is what you people do."

"Us people?"

"Self-bondagers!  You're more interested in finding ways to enslave yourself, then being enslaved.  I've always found that your type makes for the worst sub.  You are obsessed with being in complete control of how you deprive yourself of freedom.  You don't want anyone to tell you what to do, you want to do it yourself.  You script your own fantasy.  I just figured you would benefit from a helping hand, once yours are all tied up."

Jessica's cutting analysis was precise.  I always wondered why I hated playing the role of a sub.  Nothing was every quite right, and I always figured I could do a better job myself. Before I could offer any comments on what she had offered, Jessica continued.

"Just imagine for a moment, what you and Anthony could do for each other.  Give him a call and invite him over, then, prepare yourself.  Impress him.  Leave instructions for punishment.  Then, return the favour.  Trust me, he is as desperate as you for someone that understands."

I couldn't speak.  All I could do was reach over and give Jessica a big hug.

"Thanks for lunch, I have some plans to make."  I said as I raced away from the table.

 

15.12.06