By Her Own Hand 2

Part Two

Marion had actually done it. After years of fantasizing about being bound, of collecting bondage magazines and videos, and more years of self-bondage, which was almost the real thing, she had contrived to tie herself up truly inescapably.

As her project grew, she couldn't resist adding more and more bondage to her predicament. She had decided for a straightjacket-on-a-bed situation, that would have been enough for most people, but her years of yearning had made Marion a bondage-starved girl. She had seen all the videos and did not want to be a sad second best. So she had succeeded in tieing herself up in 9 points of hospital-quality restraints. Her ankles were trapped in Humane Restraints strapped to the bed. Another strap took care of her thighs, and another one of her torso. Said torso was well taken care of by a Humane Restraint straightjacket, reinforced by restraints keeping her biceps apart and tied to the bed. If that weren't enough, she had plugged her ears and gagged her mouth before hooding herself, and tethered this hood to the bed with a chain.

She had achieved this self bondage by entrusting the crucial phase, that of tightening the sleeves on her straightjacket, to two winches that had pulled in cables connected by snap hooks to the sleeve ends. These winches were governed by a controller that was set to leave her tied up for ten hours, plus a random duration she had programmed to be anything from zero to another ten hours. She had therefore sentenced herself to a full night of immobility, silence, obscurity, and uncertainty as to how long her predicament would last into the next day.

Just as she had tied up her second sleeve, but before the winches had her bondage tight and inescapable, Marion had had a panic attack. The thought of everything that might go wrong, the risk of having entrusted her life to an electromechanical device had suddenly overpowered her fantasy, and she had tried to free herself before her situation became irreversible. But she had prepared and timed everything impeccably, as though she had imagined that she would lose her nerve, and the winches had forced her sleeves tightly around her torso before she could release herself, and now she was well and truly stuck.

Marion's reaction, fueled by the massive surge in adrenalin that her panic attack had injected into her system, was a frantic fight with her bonds. She pulled on her sleeves, her ankle restraints, the straps that kept her torso and thighs tightly on the bed, the chain that tethered her head to the bed, and nothing gave, even slightly. She pulled, she twisted, she shook, she clenched,  she heaved, she groaned, and still nothing gave, no slack developed.

Marion had yearned for so long to be tied up, restrained, immobilized inescapably, and now, for the first time, she was living the dream. But, was it a dream? Fantasy is one thing, reality another. In the bondage videos she had watched for so many hot hours, in the many bondage stories she had read, there was action at every moment. Something that did not go according to plan. The safety person who came in unannounced, or who got unexpectedly called to the other end of the country exactly when his/her presence was vital. But Marion had never spoken to anyone about her bondage fetish, so she had no safety person set up, no plan B.

It was Friday night, and her next appointment, the first instance when anyone might notice her disappearance if something went wrong, was Monday morning at work. And she very much doubted that her not showing would lead them to call the police instantly. They would just call, and leave a message on her phone, expecting her to call back. It would be at least a day or two before they did anything, maybe Thursday? Could she last that long, immobilized on her bed, without food or drink, and peeing in her nappies? How would she even know, as she did not have any way to know what time it would be, whether her setup was going to work and release her, or if it had already failed and she had entered the final phase of terminal helplessness?

As the adrenalin eventually left her system, Marion felt drained, and eventually, combined with the fact that she was now past her usual sleep time, fell into a fitful slumber. Despite the late hour, it was not a restful sleep for her, used as she was to sleep curled up on her side rather than stretched out on her back. Her last thought, as she felt herself slowly drifting away was “if only I can sleep long and wake up in the morning, when I will be released...”

But it was not to be. In her sleep, Marion instinctively tried to turn on her side and was thwarted by the many restraints that held her fast. She awoke with a start. As was always the case when she emerged from sleep when bound, even imperfectly self-bound, not like now, Marion went through a very acute instant of panic as her body instinctively sought to overcome its restraints. She struggled briefly and violently before her mind took control. Then she knew again where she was, and how she had come to be bound so comprehensively. She had no idea if she had slept half an hour or quite a few half hours, if the night was still young, and ahead of her, or already well under way, and her forced immobility drawing to a close. A distant close maybe, but a close nonetheless.

That is when she remembered the full extent of what she had organized. When dawn came, it might still only be half of her time in restraints, and not the time for her release. But, in order to see dawn coming, she needed to see, and that wasn't the case now, courtesy of her leather hood. How much that hood restrained her was now amply clear for her. Out of instinct her head sought out clues, in light or sound, of what might be happening around her, and she was getting none. She tried to raise it, but the tether brought her back to reality rudely: she was well and truly chained up.

Now that she was again wide awake, and not prevented from level-headed thinking by blind panic, she thought about how she might escape. The first step to getting free, as everyone knows who has ever tried, is to see your way out of bondage. That meant, for Marion, getting her head out of the leather hood she had meticulously laced on. She had no idea how that might happen. Trying to pull her head out of the hood was probably doable, because it was tethered to the bed, but was very risky, if not outright dangerous, because she would run the risk that the hood would move somewhat, but not be entirely removed from her head. Enough that she would no longer be able to breathe through the breathing holes, and not able to reverse the hood back onto her head. Not a good idea.

Getting her ankles out of the restraints was hopeless. She had put them on properly. They were much too well-designed for her to slip out of, and much too strong for her to break out of. No, that was not worth even trying. Besides, even if her legs were free, as long as her torso was strapped in the straightjacket and to the bed, what good did it do her?

So, could she have a chance at escaping her straightjacket? That would of course be her ticket to freedom. Having back full use of her hands would let her get free in seconds. Now tightening the straitjacket straps that closed it in her back was the one thing she hadn't been able to do. She had tried to find a way, and was quite frustrated that she hadn't, except that now she thought it might afford her a most welcome chance to escape. So, her torso wasn't tightly strapped up. How to put that to good use? The obvious answer was that it might allow her to wiggle out of it the way she had wiggle into it. The problem was that since getting it on, she had buckled the crotch strap, which she now needed undone if she were to have any hope of getting out. But how to undo the crotch strap, the buckle of which had been placed  in the back, well away from the hand's reach?

The most obvious approach to escaping from a straightjacket is to create enough wiggle room within it to be able to extricate one arm from its sleeve, and then it is essentially game over. Did the fact that the torso straps were not quite tight provide Marion with enough slack to achieve that?

She tried to pull her right arm out of the sleeve. She was, after all, a rookie in straightjacket escape attempts since it was the first time she had managed to tie herself up in it without an easy escape route.  Basically, the trickiest point is to get your elbow out. The sleeve design of the Humane Restraint helps you, up to a point, because the sleeve is quite wide and ample from the shoulder to the elbow, in order to accommodate various body sizes and to offer, despite the restriction, tolerable comfort. Furthermore, the fact that Marion's jacket did not incorporate the various accessories that could make it tighter and safer yet, such as side loops for the sleeves, a pinion strap connecting her elbows in the back, or an around-the-arms-and-torso strap might have the escape possible.

But Marion had decided to strap her biceps to the bed with a Humane Restraint device. Now the cuff is not connected to the strap in a rigid manner, leaving quite some play. But when the cables had reeled in her sleeve ends and her sleeves, they had pulled until the bicep cuffs  themselves had pulled on the strap all the way to being tight, both in position, and around Marion's arm right above the elbow. That was maybe even more effective that any of those devices in that it both held her arm inside the sleeve and pinioned it to the be, while also providing tension on the opposite direction to that imparted by the cables.

So, if force was out of the question, if she couldn't get her feet free, nor get her sight, hearing and speaking back, not get out of the straightjacket and off the bed, what options were left? The answer was: none. Marion was well and truly a prisoner, and only the passage of time, and the proper function of a complicated setup might change that. So, for the first time in her life, she faced a new situation: forced immobility. She had no idea how long it would last, or even what time it might be, or how long she would need to waste time away for. Or even how to let time pass as pleasantly, or at least as tolerably as possible. Something vastly different from her hot fantasies.

So, resignedly, Marion prepared to spend many hours in the forceful embrace of her self-imposed bindings. Her first move was to turn on her side, on her favorite sleeping position. That, of course, failed and reminded her brutally of exactly how powerless she was. Her being prevented from such an instinctive, automatic move was so new to her that she almost had another violent panic attack. She could do nothing. Only then did the completeness of this nothing register. Usually, when you have nothing to do, not even listen to music or read a book, you choose your position and rest, snooze, even sleep. But she had never been faced with such a situation. And obviously, the more she felt restrained, the more she wanted to make simple moves. Scratch her nose, flex a leg, turn her head. And no way.

Then what she had forecast, but dreaded happened. She had to pee. The excitement, the fight against her bonds under the warm quilt, the passing of time all made that inevitable. Wallowing in shame, she let go, and relieved herself in the nappies.

Now she had nothing else to do, or that she could do, except be still and wait. Even counting the seconds made no sense, because she didn't know what time it was, nor when the system would let her go, so she had no idea what number she should count to in order to be free. She understood the big difference between getting tied up (hot!) and being tied up (cold!). She wished she had her front door unlocked, or arranged for a friend to come in during her bondage time, or even posted an ad on Craigslist, so that she, too, could enjoy the uncertainty and “unexpected, friendly” visit of someone who “happened” to understand her kink...

But, not having done any of these things, and having been very effective at her self-bondage, it was going to be a very long, very still wait until...

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29.04.13