Elaine’s Second Cousin Melanie

In Memoriam – Elaine H., 1949-1999

Morbidly Obese Slut Elaine was snatched from this life by a loathsome disease which turned out to be the reason for her sudden weight loss; she spent two months in the comfort of a hospice program before she passed away quietly. I was invited to the wake and her funeral, as her family knew I was a close friend.

At the wake my eye was caught by a striking young brunette and managed to strike up a conversation. She told me she was Melanie, Elaine’s second cousin. I looked her over and estimated that she was about 32, 5 feet six, and 170 pounds. She noticed my looking and jumped right in: “To correct your guess, I’m 34, five feet seven in my naked feet, and I weigh 165 pounds. If you want to know more you’ll have to buy me dinner!” 

With that for an opener (I adore forward ladies), I made a project out of getting to know her as well as I could at a funeral, and Melanie reciprocated. Eventually, she came right out and said it: “I’m glad you knew Elaine- I was studying under her in the fine art of being a slut!” I almost gagged on my coffee, and both of us laughed heartily over the way I reacted.

I was already developing ideas about how to spirit Melanie away, but I had to make do with getting her E-mail address - the modern equivalent of a phone number. When I got home, I quickly checked my E-mail, but sadly found nothing. The day after, nothing, and I began to worry that I may have done something to seriously displease her. Finally, however, an E-mail showed up:

Hello, Bob! I was very happy to meet you at the funeral, although it’s a bummer that it had to be at such a solemn event. But now that I’ve spent the obligatory couple of days in mourning, I’m happily back in circulation. Please write back and assure me that you haven’t written me off!
     Melanie This set off an exchange of almost-daily E-mails in which we rapidly opened up and told our innermost secrets. Within a few days I had told her of ‘secret kinky desires’ which she promptly pried out of me. It took a bit more prodding, but eventually I told her about my self-bondage fetish. I was afraid she would find it ‘unmanly’ for me to want not only to be tied up but to tie myself up! But she accepted it well, enthusiastically even, and then she let out another secret: without mentioning a name, Elaine had told her about a guy she really enjoyed fooling around with who had that same fetish. “She said this guy had a childhood burn scar on his right ankle. Might you have such a scar?”

Damn - not only had Melanie accepted my kinky desire, but she had been told in advance just about every gory detail of my adventures with Elaine! Melanie’s next E-mail included her home phone number, and within minutes I was pouring out my soul to her. She was as gentle verbally as she had been electronically, and I found her accepting my invitation to visit, the high point of which would be her releasing me from my self-imposed bondage. The next morning I sent off a front-door key, MapQuest directions, and a letter by DHL. I also set about plotting a self-bondage scenario that would be satisfying and still wouldn’t be too extreme for Melanie.

After some plotting, I finally decided I was going to stage a strict bondage scene in my upstairs guest bedroom - the one almost never seen by guests other than my brother! This bedroom had windows that looked out over a park and a small walk-in closet that would do double duty this time. I would bind myself in a vulnerable position facing out of the closet, unable to do anything but endure the painful pleasure of my self-imposed bondage until Melanie arrived to release me. 

I set about preparing the bedroom/dungeon. First, I cut a couple of pieces of wooden clothes-pole rod which would cross the closet door and provide a mounting place for some other bondage implements. Then I collected an assortment of toys which would provide continued pleasurepain stimulation while I was bound… I didn’t want to be so bored that I would be asleep when Melanie arrived!

I collected a couple of one-gallon water jugs, filled one of them full and the other half full, and set them on a towel rack I swiped from the guest bathroom. Then I took the two mirrored sliding doors out of their tracks and set them on the wall opposite the closet, in a position where I would be exposed to my own humiliating examination- always exciting.  Well, so much for tonight. I headed for bed after I set my special alarm clock and selected some favorite kinky nightwear which would ensure that I would get a reasonable night’s rest and awake refreshed and incredibly horny, superbly ready for Melanie.

This unique nightwear consisted of a home-made chastity belt, a ball gag, and a strait jacket. The chastity belt was a curved piece of PVC pipe riveted to a leather belt. I strapped the belt around my waist, slid my cock down into the pipe, and locked the light chains around my thighs. The pipe held my cock firmly and curved downward over my balls, a position which ensured no erections all night long. The belt was snug enough to hold everything in place and still be reasonably comfortable.

I slipped the ball gag into my mouth and strapped it home. As always, I tried a few cries for help, and as always was happy to note that nothing escaped the gag except a few muffled moans. I didn’t expect to be making serious noises - I just wanted to feel the helplessness, My cock made a few useless twitches (sternly nullified by the chastity belt) to satisfy me that I felt the helplessness.

My chastity ensured, I set about encasing myself in the strait jacket. This was made of soft denim, sturdy but comfortable. Before donning the jacket, I knelt by the bed with my ankles crossed and tied the straps hanging from the back of the jacket around my ankles. Then I slipped my arms into the sleeves and worked the jacket up over my shoulders. Getting the extra-long sleeves around my back and around in front of me again was tricky, but (no surprise here) I had practice. Even trickier was getting the ends of the sleeves locked together with a small padlock, but I’d done this more than twice and managed it in only a few frustrating minutes. 

So now I was kneeling beside my bed, chastitied and gagged and strait-jacketed and very much helpless. I leaned forward and heaved myself onto the bed, on which I fell into a restless sleep in maybe an hour.
 

The next morning, I was awakened from what would have been a very wet dream had I not been secured in my chastity belt. I rolled to the edge of the bed and eased myself to the floor, where I seized the key to the lock which was fastened to a piece of tubing which the alarm clock had lowered to the floor. (No, you can’t buy this alarm clock at Sears - I made it myself.) In a minute or so, I had the strait jacket unlocked and off.

After that, I made my way to the bathroom where I took a good look at myself in the mirror before removed my ball gag. I wore the chastity belt while I showered, both to ensure that I kept my hands to myself and to clean the belt - if you’ve ever been locked in one and had to use the toilet, the cleanliness problem is obvious! After that, I pulled on my robe before I went to the front door to retrieve the newspaper from the stoop. Then I ate breakfast while I read the paper. 

Finally the phone rang: “Hello?”

“Hi, Bob! I just crossed the county line and I should be there in a few minutes, but I have to do some shopping at the mall. I’ll call you again when I get there.” We talked for a bit and then signed off. I put away the breakfast dishes and then put an envelope containing a short note on the front door. Then I headed upstairs to set to work.

I first stopped off for a final visit to the bathroom and then removed my chastity belt, which I stashed in my ‘toy chest’. Then I went to the ‘dungeon’ and closed the door; it would stay closed until Melanie opened it.

I stepped into the closet, spread my legs wide, and locked them there with a pair of leather cuffs attacked to eye bolts firmly set in the floor. (There are many such modifications to various points in the house which I know I’ll have to undo should I ever sell the house, and some of them have caused me to make up bullshit explanations when family comes to visit!)

I reached up again and brought down a favorite toy - a Doc Johnson butt plug, a slab of pink rubber narrow at the point, wide in the middle, and narrow again at the base before it flared again over the base which kept it from disappearing forever into my bowels. It was already shiny and wet with lubricant. I pressed it up under my crotch and against my asshole, twisting it until it penetrated and slipped up into me. As usual, the widest part of it resisted slipping past the gateway, but after a little twist it surged in, and my asshole closed around the narrow neck as the tip pushed too far into my guts. My cock jerked as the mass of rubber pressed against my sensitive guts.

That done, I picked up a couple of hardwood rods (feeling the butt plug twist at my thoroughly-plugged bowels as I bent) and set them in brackets on the door frame. One of them crossed the door at shoulder height, the other just at the height of my cock. I reached up to the shelf over my head and retrieved two cords. One of them had a noose tied on one end; I looped this one around my ball sack and pulled it snug. The other end looped once around the lower rod before being tied off to the handle of one of the jugs of water.

The other cord had one end fastened to another cord which had a clover clamp on either end. I carefully fastened each clamp to a nipple and then looped the cord once around the upper rod before tying it to the handle of the half-full jug of water on the upper shelf of the towel rack. I stood straight; both of the cords had about the same amount of slack.

I reached behind myself for a nylon belt bolted to the back wall of the closet. This belt was originally supposed to keep window washers from falling and certainly would keep me from falling out of the closet! I pulled the strap around my waist and buckled it; I was pulled against the back of the closet. My feet were about six inches forward because of the ankle cuffs, so my legs were tilted some.

Now I was almost ready for the final steps which would irrevocably bind myself, and I waited for a long, long time until the phone finally rang. I grabbed my cell phone from the shelf. 

“Hello, Melanie!” I wasn’t expecting anybody else to call, and if for some reason Father Flannerty decided to visit this morning, I would have some tall explaining to do! But the soft alto voice on the other end was Melanie. “Hello, Bob! I just parked at the mall, and I’m going to shop for a bit and check out Frederick’s. Are you ready for commitment?” I had explained all about the thrill of the final step in bondage.

“Yes, after you hang up I will be helplessly locked away in two minutes.”

“Good… make it so!” Click….

I took a deep breath and put the cell phone back on the shelf. I felt around on the shelf for a favorite gag- a short, thick rubbed penis fastened to a leather strap. I opened wide and slipped the penis into my mouth. After I tightened the strap behind my head, the rubber cock filled my mouth to the point where I couldn’t even move my tongue. As always, I tried to shout for help, with the happy result that nothing intelligible came out, and my fattening cock indicated my readiness for the ordeal to come.

Next, I brought down a pair of handcuffs connected by several feet of chrome steel chain and looped the chain through a pair of hooks under the shelf. This left the two cuffs hanging slightly over my head and at arms length to the side. Using my left hand, I locked one cuff on my right wrist and then awkwardly worked the other cuff around my left wrist. 

The ‘click-click-click-click’ of the second cuff was the noise that signaled that I was now helplessly bound, and my cock stiffened. There’s always some point in every self-bondage escapade which signals the point of no return: the click-click-click of a handcuff, the snap of a padlock when the key is in a purse far away, dropping a rope that would allow you untie your ankles from a steel post, stepping off a chair into suspension bondage when you’ve kicked the chair away and can’t step back up…. the moment when you say “Oh, damn, why the bloody hell did I do that! I’m trapped!” My balls ached with the intensity of the moment.

But one more step remained. With one foot, I nudged a wooden bar; the towel rack teetered and fell over, dropping the jugs of water which fell to the ends of their cords. In slow motion, the lower jug pulled hard on the cord whose noose was locked around my ball sack; the cord jerked my balls to the bottom of their sack. The upper jug also fell to the end of its cord and jerked hard at the cord connecting the two nipple clamps. These clamps being of the variety which have a fiendish mechanical linkage which causes them to grip tighter as more pull is applied to them, they refused to come off, but gripped as tight as a Vise-Grip pliers.

That’s a slow-motion description of what happened. In real time, the jugs were dropped off the falling towel rack, the cords pulled tight, and the cord around my balls slammed my hips forward against the belt strapping me to the wall. The other jug jerked hard at my nipples, which were immediately smashed flat and stretched painfully far out by the clamps. I jerked hard at the cuffs and screamed, but only a loud groan escaped my lips.

In a few moments, things stabilized. I was standing in the closet cell, my legs spread wide by the ankle cuffs, my arms high and spread wide by the hand cuffs. My hips were pinned to the back of my cell by the belt, but pulled forward by the weight of the jug of water hanging from my balls. My chest was thrust forward by the cruel clamps twisting at my nipples. Why the fuck did I do this to myself!

My cock, jutting rigidly out over my outstretched balls, ached for the touch of a pussy, of lips, a hand, anything… but nothing was coming. In particular, I wasn’t cuming. Not until Melanie deigned to arrive, and even then everything was up to her. I was helpless to do anything but suffer and wait.

I waited for what seemed like an hour. My legs ached from the awkward position, my jaw ached as my mouth was stretched wide by the fat rubber penis, my nipples burned in the crushing grip of the clamps, my asshole burned as the overlarge butt plug distended my rectum, and my balls ached as they were smashed to the bottom of my ball sack by the snug noose. Worse of all, my cock begged for release, to be able to spurt its load of cum into a hot, squirming pussy… but nothing was going to get better until Melanie came and decided to release me. I waited….

 

 

01.01.05