Finally

The First Time

I've known I was kinky since before my hormones started revving up, before menarche. I didn't know the word "kinky" at the time and I didn't know that I wasn't alone. But I knew that I was excited about ropes and the idea of being tied up.

Luckily, I'm part of the Internet Generation, and all sorts of information and pictures and advice are available. And don't make me laugh about nanny filters. My parents weren't part of the Internet Generation and couldn't set up a barrier I couldn't get through or around.

Unluckily, I'm part of the Internet Generation, and all sorts of information and pictures and advice are available. I shared a room with my little sister, with no locking closets or drawers. I was never alone in the house, at least not for more than maybe a half hour at a time. I had the feelings; I had the information; but I couldn't do anything about it! It just made me more frustrated. I did eventually manage to buy and hide a vibrator, it helped, but it didn't scratch my bondage itch.

The situation lasted for years. I dated some in high school, but never mentioned my kinky side. Can you imagine asking a teenage boy to tie me up and tease me for an hour? Can you imagine him staying quiet about a request like that? By the same token, it got me interested in self-bondage because you don't have to trust anyone else that way.

Finally I got away from home when I went off to college. But I couldn't afford anything but a dorm with three other girls. And if at least one of them wasn't in the dorm, at least one was due soon. And I still couldn't bring myself to tell anyone.

Eventually, I got an idea. I kept telling my roommates about this great, popular Spring Break destination about a 5-hour drive from the college. And I kept complaining that despite all of the attractions there - which I described in great detail - my family is still paying most of my college costs and forbade me from going there. Meanwhile, I suggested to my family that to save airfare and to give me an actual rest, I would stay at college during Spring Break.

I was surprised when it worked. All my roommates decided to go for the week and my family said they'd like to see me, but it was better if I rested. They were proud that I chose what was better for me academically rather than what would be more enjoyable. Well, that 's what they thought, anyway.

So, I made my way to that anonymous source of bondage equipment: the local hardware store. It doesn't matter whether you go to a big-box one or a small, independent one. They all have rope, chain, locks, and nearly anything else you'd want to keep someone tied down.

My first chance at (self)bondage was coming up, and I wanted it to be great. I wanted to be helpless, and I wanted to be able to eventually get out and bring myself off without any accidents.

My reading showed a lot of ways things could go wrong, so I not only planned my bondage, I planned my release mechanisms and the backups for them. I practiced how I would tie my hands and how I'd get free. I had a pre-tied set of loops that I could just get my hands into. A long-shackled lock would act as a cinch, making it impossible to pull my hands out until the lock was removed. The knot in the rope was made permanent by glue. I "dated" my vibrator nearly every day, until a few days before Spring Break. Then I went cold turkey to heighten my need. It was heightened, alright. I got so horny I had to wear a pad to keep from soaking my panties. The sight of white laces on black sneakers was enough to make me want to go somewhere private and masturbate.

Finally the day came when my roommates left. I decided to wait until the next day in case they somehow decided to come back.

I didn't want a mess, so I didn't eat or drink anything for the eight hours before I was going to start. When it was time, I set up my fail-safes and got my gear together.

First, I set up my fail-safes – three of them. I was going to use an electric timer as my primary release. I used a bunch of ice cubes holding a key as my first backup. I didn't know how long the ice would take to melt, but it was a lot longer than my session was supposed to last. When they melted enough, the key and its attached weight would drop though the hoop into the pan the water dripped into, near where I would start out.

My second fail-safe would be available to me at any time. If I wanted to chicken out, I could pull a string and bring another key to me, but it would cost me. My tablet computer was on the edge of a tub of water, and pulling the string would pull it in. And I couldn't afford to replace it.

My third fail-safe was my phone. I encased it in thick cardboard so that only one button was available, and none of the others would get hit by accident. That button would send a "help me" text to my RA. Better to die of embarrassment than to die of death. Obviously, I hoped not to need either of these last two fail-safes, and until I had to, I wasn't sure which I'd choose.

What I planned to happen, though, is that a timer would turn off an electromagnet which would allow me to crawl across the room to where my primary key would be waiting. Since I'd be bound with ropes, I also had a knife waiting there. The knife was sharp and serrated, but had a rounded point – I'd be able to saw through the ropes without worrying I'd stab myself.

The electromagnet was one used to lock building doors. It was strong enough to keep would-be burglars from opening those doors. It would certainly hold through any force I could put on it. I had attached it to the wall side of my bed with a couple of huge, strong C clamps. Unless I were free enough of bonds to crawl under my bed, I couldn't reach it. And the beds in this dorm were bolted down. I probably don't want to know what led to that. And unlike many other timer methods, a power outage would free me, rather than trap me.

After the fail-safes were set up and inspected, I double-checked that all the blinds were closed and that the door was locked. I know the RA has a master key and could come in if needed.

First I peed. Then I came back and locked the door again. Then I stripped. I felt odd just walking around the room in the nude. I set the timer for two hours and put the plate with its attached chain onto the magnet. I put my release key and knife at the far end of the room. It's not a big room, but it's far enough to be out of reach.

I inserted my vibrator, but left it turned off. That was for later. And I was so wet I didn't even have to think about lube.

Then I got my new, beautiful, soft white rope. I wound it neatly around my ankles several times before tying it off in the front. It wasn't as easy as I expected from all of the self-bondage stories I'd read. It was awkward trying to reach my ankles while keeping them tight enough together to be secure, but I managed. Are other people more limber than I am?

Tying above and below my knees was much easier, as was tying my thighs. 

I wanted to gag myself, but not for my first attempt. I don't know how not being gagged was safer, but it just felt that way. Ditto for a blindfold, but more so. I wasn't sure how I'd find my key while blindfolded.

I looked around. My fail-safes were ready. My primary release was ready. I wasn't 100% sure I was ready, but I locked the chain to my ankle ropes and put my hands through the wrist loops. With a feeling like I was parachute jumping for the first time, I closed the lock as a cinch. I was committed.

Bondage is no good if you can get out, so I started struggling. There was no give in my leg ropes; I had maybe a fraction of an inch of movement. I had more movement of my wrists, but not enough to be able to extract either hand.

I looked down at my body. My tits were thrust out because of my arms being tied behind me. My legs were as one. The ropes looked just like the ropes in some of the best bondage pictures. I looked like someone from some of the best bondage pictures.

I was horny and no matter what I did, I couldn't get enough stimulation to come. I wanted to scream in frustration, and wished I had gagged myself so I could. I pulled and I wriggled. Partly I was testing my bonds, partly reveling in the inescapable bondage I put myself in (and on my first try!), and partly trying to reach climax.

I was already hot, sexually. My struggles made me hot, physically. I got sweaty, but even with that lubricant, I had only a few more fractions of an inch of movement from my legs, and still couldn't slip my hands through the loops.

When the plate fell from the electromagnet, I realized just how long I had been struggling. I made my way to the key and freed my hands, which I plunged into my pussy. Between my eagerness and the tightness of my thighs, I couldn't reach the vibrator's on button. To hell with it; I could reach my on button. It was a mind-blowing climax. The only thing that could have improved it was, again, being gagged. I lost a bit of the edge by having to concentrate on not screaming. I had never before come so hard that that was a problem. But I was happy.

I had planned my first self-bondage session and pulled it off exactly as planned, including the big climax at the end. Now it was time to take the rest of the ropes off.

Nothing I read told me how much harder it was to untie ropes than it was to tie them. The knots sank deep into the soft rope and made it nearly impossible to grab a bit of rope to pull it through. I ended up having to cut my way out of all four leg ties.

Not only was I unhappy about cutting the ropes, it was enough work that it was like having a spinach course after the dessert. I'd had my fun, but this was too much work too soon after. I'd have to try something else next time. And there will definitely be a next time, probably later this same week. In the meantime, jeans, socks, and long-sleeved blouses would hide the rope marks.

The Second Time

I had taken the same precautions and had the same fail-safes. But this time I had a gag. I wasn't quite ready to go into a sex store and buy one, so I went with what I read online and wadded up a kerchief inside another; the lump went in my mouth and the other tied in back. That didn't feel good enough so I undid it and put two more kerchiefs inside. When I had trouble getting it past my teeth, I knew it was right.

After the problem I had untying the knots before, I tried something different. After getting things nice and tight with just a simple overhand knot, I strapped each end down with two nylon ties. And, of course, I had wire cutters beside my release key and knife, as that's the only practical way of cutting those.

The only other change I made to my previous bondage adventure was to put myself into a semi-hogtie. My legs were tied at ankles, below and above my knees, and mid-thigh. I used a rope between my ankle and thigh ropes, but not so tight that I couldn't move my legs some. I'm still new to this and I wanted to be able to get across the rooms to my release key.

And, like last time, I'm chained to the electromagnet under my bed, so I can't start on my journey until more than an hour passes. And, again, I have a turned-off vibrator stuck where vibrators go. I still don't have a butt plug, and I'm not sure yet if I want one. I especially don't know if I want one enough to go into a sex shop.

I was getting very horny by the time I clicked the lock cinching my wrist ropes.

I tried in vain to get away from the magnet. I struggled in my bonds, to either get free or to generate enough pressure to come. But I did my job well, and I just got hornier and more frustrated. At some point, my mind drifted off into fantasy...

I was stuck and couldn't get out. I screwed up somehow and the magnet wasn't releasing me. I had to decide between my two horrible choices for fail-safe, and finally chose to send the "help me" text to my RA, Janet.

I could hear that she texted back, but I couldn't do anything about it. A bit later I heard a knock on the door, but all I could do is scream into my gag, and she certainly couldn't hear that. She unlocked the door and called my name. I tried to call back, but even inside the door she couldn't hear me. When she came into the room, she didn't seem as surprised or shocked as I expected when she saw my full-frontal nudity enforced by many yards of rope.

She came over and asked if I was hurting. I tried to tell her to remove my gag, but she just asked again. And she also felt both feet and both hands before saying, "Well, there's no circulation problem, so you're probably not being harmed." And again she asked, "Do you hurt anywhere?" to which I shook my head.

She did something with her phone, then looked over everything. She looked me over very carefully, which made me want to curl up and hide. She looked at how I tied myself, and at my fail-safes. She rescued my notepad computer from impending danger as my alternate last resort.

I was embarrassed and wanted to know why she wasn't releasing me. Then there was a knock on the door. I got very nervous when she opened it. The other three RAs came in. Because I didn't have any other good choices I had bared my kink - and my body - to Janet and now she let three other people see. Even worse, two of the RAs were men! I was mad at her and embarrassed beyond belief.

She sat beside me and said, "You'd be surprised how often this happens. Over the years, we've devised a routine. All the RAs and all the people who've been caught as you've just been have been notified. Most are away on break, but some should be arriving any time now."

Seconds after she said that there was another knock. A couple of other students from my dorm came in and examined me just like Janet and the other RAs did. Even if I weren't gagged, I wasn't sure what I'd say. I could feel my blush spreading and intensifying.

Janet said, "It'll take a bit longer for the students from the other dorms to get here, so just be patient."

After about ten minutes, my dorm was getting crowded. There were the four RAs and six students. Two of the RAs and two of the students were men. All ten of them were staring at my nude, bound, blushing body.

Janet spoke again. "Self-bondage can be dangerous. If a student gets into so much trouble she has to call for help, we make sure the experience is traumatic enough that it won't happen again. Everyone who's been through this is in a text group. Whenever they do this now, they let everyone know when and where, and how long they expect to be. If we don't get the all-clear within a reasonable time after that, we come and help out. But after helping, we again take steps so the person won't be that sloppy again. It works. Even freshmen who've needed help twice never need it again during the whole rest of their stay at this college.

"So, as the first part for a first offense, we're going to release your hands and you're going to masturbate for us."

I shook my head wildly and tried to say "No" through my gag, over and over. I intensified trying to get out of my bondage. I think all I succeeded in doing was putting on a pretty good show.

Janet said, "Mary, we're not going away, and you're not getting untied, until you masturbate for us. I take that back. There is one other way. This is a safety issue, and if you don't want to masturbate for us, I'll just have to file an official report to my boss and the safety office."

My face had felt hot and flushed. Now it felt cold, and was probably pale. This was like my choice of fail-safes all over again. Then, it was do I lose my tablet or my dignity. Now, it's do I lose my future or my dignity. I knew what the answer would be, but it took me a few minutes to actually nod my head.

Someone behind me unlocked my wrists and helped me get my hands out of the rope loops. Janet warned me not to try to undo anything else, including the gag. Then she told me to put my hands on my twat and get to work.

I put my hands there and just covered my pussy, without "getting to work." After a bit, Janet said, "Maybe I should include the school hospital, too, for psychological evaluation." I closed my eyes to block out the fact that I wasn't alone, and started rubbing my lips.

It took a while, but I did start getting aroused. Soon I was going for a climax, rather than to avoid being outed. When I was very near to coming, they pulled my hands away from my pussy. I opened my eyes and saw that they were bringing a chastity belt to put on me. NO! I was too close. I had to come!

The plate hitting the floor brought me out of that fantasy. I was alone and could now work my way to the release key. But I was still as horny as I could ever recall and still couldn't do anything about it!

I don't actually remember getting from my bed to the key. My exertions didn't get me off, but they did keep me near the very edge.

My hands were shaking so much I had to try twice to get the key in the lock. It took me much longer to get my hands free than it should have because I tried to rush it instead of doing it right.

Once I got my hands to my pussy I came within seconds. It made me scream into my gag, and I nearly fainted from its intensity. But I didn't faint. This time I managed to turn on the vibrator, and I kept diddling until I had another, somewhat less intense, climax. I kept going. I don't know how many times I came, but I fell asleep still bound and with my hands in my lap.

When I woke up, the vibrator's battery had drained, but I felt wonderful, probably better than I ever had before. My sexual itch had been scratched, as had my bondage itch. I played with myself, not because I wanted to climax, but because it just felt good. I may have had a mild climax, I'm not sure. But it felt good and I was ready to untie myself.

I cut off the nylon ties and unwrapped all of the rope. I undid my fail-safes so nothing untoward would happen. I left everything else as it was, put on my robe, grabbed my towel, and went to the shower room. I didn't worry about hiding the rope marks. I had become either brave or fey, and I'm not sure if there's a real difference between them.

When I got back, I cleaned up the detritus and gear. Then I went online to find if there were any sex-positive groups on campus. I might still have to hide what I was from some people, like my parents, but I was now ready to find friends and lovers who knew the real me. I had turned eighteen almost a year back, but it was today when I felt like I had become an adult.