© Copyright 2002 - Bound Anon - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; cd; stuck; caught; hum; cons; X
Gromet, I have enjoyed your site for some time now and thought I'd try to help contribute something. Unfortunately I wrote this story before reading the writer's guidelines you've posted, so I'm unsure if this story will be acceptable. It's a story describing the first time a self-bondage session as a kid turned into something sexual for me, and I was roughly 13 or 14 years old at the time. So if you don't want it that's cool. If you don't care to post it "as is", but think it might be interesting with an older main character that's cool too, I can probably alter the story a bit. Also, I've added the story codes I think fit to save you time, but it's your site, and if you feel the codes should be changed feel free. -Bound Anon
I learned pretty young that I was interested in bondage. Of course at the time I had no idea what the word meant, and had no idea that it had any sexual connotations, hell I didn’t even realize I was getting erections from it at the time. That is until my first screw up.
I had to have been around 13 or 14, very early into puberty when I began exploring two different sexual “deviancies” of mine, self-bondage and cross-dressing.
My younger sister was taking a dance class and part of her “uniform” was caramel colored fishnet tights. I waited until I was alone with her, because I knew it was a weird question for a boy to ask, but I had to ask her what her tights felt like (the weirder part was that I wanted her to tell me what they felt like to wear). I was really consumed with the idea. She wasn’t much help, she said she only really noticed them when she put them on, and then she said after awhile she just forgot about them being there, but mentioned that it left neat crisscross marks on her legs. That answer wasn’t good enough for me, so once I saw the opportunity (her tights hanging from the shower curtain) I took it, and tried them on.
I tried them on several times, and enjoyed the feeling immensely. I’m not sure why really, but the same feeling occurred every time I tried it. Eventually I decided to combine it with some self bondage.
Once my whole family ended up being out of the house at the same time, I began preparing for what was at the time, my favorite bondage technique. This comprised of sitting down on my bed, and then tying my ankles together with my bicycle chain, a roughly ½ inch thick length of steel cable, coated in plastic with loops at the end for a lock. I discovered if I wrapped it around my ankles three times, one time being a figure eight with the cable going between my ankles that it was the perfect length. Once locked on it was impossible to remove without the key to the padlock.
I’d then place the key to the padlock just outside of my predicted reach, before using a piece of rope to fasten the cable to the wooden post at the foot of the bed. The rope was probably only 1/8 inches thick maybe even a bit smaller, it was used to hold a compass around one's neck. Once tied it was only around six inches long. I’d be sure to tie a sufficiently complicated knot, that I'd only attempt untying the knot as a last resort.
Most often I’d put the key on the far side of the bed, which quickly became too easy for me to reach. Then I’d start putting it in odd places, like on top of the dresser at the end of the bed, forcing me to half support myself on the bed with my bound legs, and half with my hand on the dresser.
This time however was going to be the first time I tried self-bondage while wearing fishnet tights and figured I’d want to try something different. I thought about it for a little while, and realized if I put the key on the ground it would be perfect, once I crawled off the bed the rope would be short enough that I'd just barely be able to lay down on my back on the ground, forcing my fishnet-clad legs directly into my field of view. I hadn’t tried that yet because it seemed like it might be a bit strenuous trying to climb back up while my legs were tied together anchored to the top, but that just added to the excitement this time
I quickly eyeballed what should be the correct distance and put the key on the floor. I decided against tying my wrists together this time because I wanted to be sure I could make it off the bed without hurting myself too much, and figured I could always try again later with my wrists bound if this worked well.
So once the rope was tied, I began to make my decent off the bed. I made it about halfway; my legs supporting me from the bed, and my hands underneath me in a sort of back bend before I realized I misjudged the height of the post. My lower back was supposed to just barely reach the ground, however from the way it felt I was in definite danger of landing on the back of my head. I began trying to climb back up onto the bed, more frantically with each failed attempt.
I’d lift one arm, trying to find something on the top of the bed to grab on to, but supporting my body weight with one arm under me behind my back proved to be too strenuous. After trying this for a minute or two my supporting arm finally gave out and I came crashing down. Thankfully I landed on my upper back, and my neck and head didn’t hit as hard as I had feared they would.
After I recovered from the fall I began to appreciate the subtle pleasure of the situation. I was beginning to enjoy the view, still enthralled with the fishnets before my ankle began to hurt from supporting part of my body weight, and because of the chain digging in to it. I decided to cut the experience short, and go straight for the key and free myself, and then maybe try the tie again with my legs a bit lower, and maybe tying my wrists this time. It was this point that I suddenly realized the consequences of misjudging the height at which my ankles were anchored.
I had measured out the distance to the key with my back flat on the floor, not half of it hanging down from the bed. The key was going to be a much tougher distance than I thought. I would have to pull myself across the smooth hardwood floor so far that my legs would be pulled almost horizontally before I could reach the key.
With much effort I walked myself back on my elbows pulling my legs up taut, I really enjoyed the sight, but it took a great deal of effort to hold myself there. I could only stretch myself far enough if I was supported by both arms, the second I tried to stretch one of my arms out to try to grab the key I’d fall back. I repeated the process several times, thinking if I could just stretch hard enough I’d make it, before finally realizing that it was hopeless.
This is when I discovered my second mistake. My safety, untying the rope and then hopping over to the key relied on being able to reach the rope. I hadn't had a problem reaching it on the other few occasions that the key exceeded my grasp, but I was never half-suspended by my ankles before while trying to do it.
Here I was, my wrists completely unbound, only my ankles tied and I was completely helpless. I was truly getting frustrated at this point and was starting to whine to myself when I decided to give it a shot and try climbing back onto the bed by scaling my own legs. Obviously not an easy thing to do, I lacked the upper body strength, the flexibility and just couldn't get a strong enough grip on my legs to get anywhere.
I tried this a few times, quickly realizing that was not going to be an option when I began having a very intense feeling that I was going to pee. (I hadn’t ever masturbated at this age, and didn’t realize what was coming, if you’ll pardon the pun) I was really freaking out thinking, “oh no, I’m going to piss myself wearing my sister’s tights, someone’s definitely going to notice that!” The intensity of the need kept growing and I resigned myself to accept my fate, so rather than soil my sisters tights I pulled down the tights and my underwear just in time to feel the most intense pleasure I’d ever felt at that age.
It took me a moment upon seeing the discharge to realize what it was. I suddenly remembered how I had always heard semen described “milky white”, “slightly runnier than Elmer’s glue” etc. etc.
It was as I was feeling really relaxed, coming to grips with my first orgasm that I got probably the biggest scare of my life. I heard my mom and sister enter the house. Then as I was freaking out trying to figure out how to get back up onto the bed I heard my sister running down the hall towards my bedroom yelling my name, saying “Guess what!” I can’t remember at this point what her impressive news was, but at that point she could have told me we won the lottery, I didn’t want to hear it!
Repeatedly I yelled back, “Hold on! Go away!” I kept twisting about trying to look at the door; however, each time I twisted I’d get a short peek before quickly being pulled painfully back to my original position. It was between these quick peeks at the door when I heard the noise that made my heart drop; the knob of the bedroom door was turning. I hadn’t thought to lock the door! Shit!
I kept straining to look at the door hoping by shear will I could prevent it from opening, while continuing to yell “Go Away!” even as the door began to crack open, but apparently in her excitement she didn’t hear me. I twisted again and saw the door opened more, and again and it was almost all the way open, then another look and I saw my sister’s face, the image of her jaw dropped frozen in my head. I yelled “Go Away” again and she finally closed the door and ran back up the hall.
I was so embarrassed and freaked out that I just began thrashing around trying to escape my self-inflicted bondage until my legs flipped around enough that the tiny rope finally snapped freeing me from the half suspended position. In a split second I realized I was free and then jumped at the key. Quickly I managed to open the lock, remove the bicycle chain, strip, and get dressed before scurrying about cleaning up all the evidence of my “dirty little secret.”
I was horrified to be caught. I kept hoping to myself that maybe she heard me yell and ran before she realized what she had seen. I sat in my room with the door closed, assuming by this time that my sister must have told my mom what she’d seen me doing, imaging the look of shock and horror on my mom’s face.
I continued waiting, for the inevitable, to actually have to explain what I was doing to my mom, I couldn’t think of a single reason, no matter how implausible, to explain either the position I was caught in, or the way I was attired. Finally, I heard the familiar sound of my mom walking down the hallway, and then her knock at the door, inwardly knowing she was only knocking because she was sure I was in the same position and wanted to spare me the embarrassment of being seen until giving her my consent to walk in. I finally told her she could come in and I must have been shaking like a leaf as she demanded to know why I was yelling at my sister.
Slowly I realized that maybe my sister had either not seen me, or she hadn’t told my mom. A smile must have crept onto my face with the relief that I might have gotten away with it, spared of the embarrassment. My mom saw the smile and assumed that I thought that having yelled at my sister was funny. As she got more irritated over it I became more relieved and had to force myself to look repentant while apologizing.
Finally, after repeating my apology several times, trying to force the feeling of relief out of my voice I convinced her I was sorry and she accepted it and left without saying anything else.
I decided if my sister had seen anything she must have let it slip her mind due to the preoccupation with whatever other news she wanted to tell me because she never asked me what I was doing. I certainly didn’t want to bring the subject up, cause I still couldn't come up with any answers to the obvious question- "what were you doing?"
To this day I don’t know whether she didn't remember seeing anything, did remember, and said something to my mom, or just somehow missed seeing me altogether.
But with the exception of possibly being caught, I enjoyed the experience thoroughly and have been practicing self-bondage ever since.
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