Homeward Bound

My husband and I have been playing bondage games together for almost ten years, most of our married life. It stems primarily from my need to be placed into bondage in such a way as to be totally helpless. In fact, I started out playing with before we met, and still practice today, “self-bondage”. Many of our current escapades stem from this. At the now ripe old age of thirty-two, I have been doing this since my teens, about sixteen years. 

Early on I had visions of being the helpless damsel, rescued by the big knight in shining armor. Who would then take me away and we would make love together. This usually done by me fingering myself in my daydreams However, as my teenage hormones raged into young womanhood, I discovered that being helpless and taken by the sinister villain made for better fantasies, not to mention better sexual stimulation. I started simply, by pretending to be kidnapped. I would use clothesline to tie myself up and roll around in my bedroom. Or, I would fasten myself spread eagle to the bed, legs on bedposts and one arm likewise. I would have one free to play with myself.  This was a fair beginning except that I was not able to tie myself in such a way that I couldn’t easily get undone. Having a heightening need to increase my suspense, I needed to figure out how to be more really helpless. 

My first attempt taught me the need for safety precautions. After seeing a hanging on an old western (no I didn’t have any death wish fantasies), I got an idea for getting tied up better. Taking a small length of rope, I fashioned a noose into it. I had figured on using this to cinch up my wrist ropes. Well it worked, too well. I had snatched a cucumber from the refrigerator, and made ready to have a decent “Snidely Whiplash” type adventure. After locking myself in my room I undressed. Then after greasing the green weenie, so to speak, with some Vaseline (this was before I discovered K-Y Jelly), I slid it between my legs and into my vagina. Then I securely tied my ankles and knees together. Finally, I used some rope to make a wrist coil. I slipped a hand through the coil, then put the noose around it. Finally, I slipped the other hand through. After twisting the coil to make it snug, I cinched up the little noose, locking myself tight. I was in bondage joy as I rolled on my bedroom floor, the makeshift phallic inside me. I could squeeze down on it and feel completely full. Within a few minutes I had worked myself into a really good orgasm. Of course, then I wanted to get loose. Funny thing, I found out too late I couldn’t make the noose reverse and loosen. After several bouts of panic, I was able to remember a scissors in my desk drawer and after much effort, slink across the floor, get propped into the chair, and open the drawer. It took a good thirty minutes of sawing at the cords to get loose. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I had a second huge orgasm. I learned two things from this experience. First was that the more really helpless I was the bigger the thrill. Second, one always needs to plan for escape, and make contingencies in the event of surprises. 

Over time, I got more imaginative with my bondage. By the time I got to college I was pretty good at it. I also found a new thrill, the fear of getting caught while in a compromising position in bondage. As always, something like this happens by accident. It was a rainy Saturday and my apartment mates were heading for an afternoon at the mall. I decided to stay home for some self imposed fun. After the other girls left I stripped naked and decided on a plan. They would be gone for hours, so I decided on some time release fun. First I poked into the freezer. There I extracted an ice cube from the back corner. This little block had a key to a pair of handcuffs  I now owned frozen into it. This I placed in the living room by a coffee table. Then I retired back to my room. There I tied my ankles and knees securely. Then I wound some cord around my waist and between my legs. Fastened front and back to my waist rope, this cord became an effective crotch rope, teasing my clitoris and labia. Not to mention my vaginal and anal crevices. Then I slid a belt down around my upper arms and fastened it as tight as I could. 

Finally, after looping the handcuffs behind the crotch rope behind me, I locked my wrists behind me. The intent was that I would now have to shinny my way to the living room to get loose. Even then, I would have to wait for the key to melt before I would be freed. I had a backup key under my bed. But once I started out towards the living room, I would have to come all the way back to get it. Taking a deep breath I inched forward. Having placed the cuffs behind the crotch rope, every time I moved, it would jerk up, pulling into my crack and rub against something. Before I cleared the hallway,  I had worked into my first orgasm. I had one more before getting to the living room and the key, which was still partially frozen. This had taken most of an hour. I was almost free when I heard the click of the front door lock.  I nearly had a heart attack, nobody should have been here for at least another couple of hours. Grasping the almost thawed key I literally twisted, turned and flung myself behind the couch, next to the wall. Banging my head I almost knocked myself out. As I was hearing bells, my roommates burst into the room arguing about something. It seems one had left her wallet at home and they had to retrieve it. My third climax hit when someone plopped onto the couch, directly in front of me while the other went for the wallet. I was on floor, nearly biting through my lip to keep quiet as my body quivered and shook in waves of orgasm. Why nobody noticed I have no idea. Anyway, they were soon gone and I prayed a long epistle of thanks. After I got loose and was back in my room, It took a long time for my heart rate to calm and me to relax. That night I masturbated to another big climax, reliving this in my mind. 

My husband got involved not too long after we were married. He was a great lover, but just the same I still had the need to get bound and helpless every so often. Also, being now somewhat more affluent, I had incorporated a few toys to “add” to my tensions and pleasures. Although, I still found that from the bondage standpoint, simple is still effective and the most enticing. It was a Friday, I remember because of the ensuing weekend of bondage at my husband’s hand. But I am getting ahead of myself. Anyway, after he left for work, I settled down at my home office and completed a couple of my own assignments as a freelance writer for the local newspaper’s travel section. Around lunch time the old urge for some self induced fun hit. Having transmitted in my work, I gave in to the beckoning from within. Taking a hot bubble bath, I soaked away some stresses and made my plans. After toweling dry I decided on some slinky lingerie. 

I started with a black lace garter belt and some nylons. Then I added a black satin chemise. It was soft, slinky, and short, stopping just above my firm waist. Finally, I slipped into a pair of black high heels. Then, wandering through the house I gathered my supplies. In the kitchen, I placed a sharp steak knife. This would be the instrument of my release. Toys in hand, I wandered back to the bedroom at the other end of the house. There I started my bondage. First, using cotton clothesline I bound my ankles, and them my knees. Next, I crafted a small cinch noose as I had become accustomed to in this type of escapade. Now it was time for a couple of toys. First, sliding a hand under the chemise, I clipped a clothespin onto each of my nipples. The initial pain zipped through me, but I ignored it for now, waiting to savor later. The chemise kept the clothespins folded down adding stress to my pinched buds. After this, I picked up an anal plug and lubricated it with some K-Y, along with the top of a Fleets enema bottle. Then, bending forward I inserted the Fleets into my anus and squeezed until it was empty and I, correspondingly filled. After the enema fill up, I carefully pressed the head of the butt plug against my anus until it popped past the sphincter, locking itself firmly in place. I had kept my panties, black lace, down around my thighs, and now pulled them up, covering my plugged bottom. I worked quickly to complete my bondage. 

I had some more clothesline, with I had made into a chest loop, which I slid down over my torso and upper arms. This was tight, holding them close to my body, but still gave me a little lower arm movement. After placing a ball gag into my mouth and locking it, I completed the last portion of my self-imprisonment. I had a wrist coil of clothesline, which I slid over one wrist, then rolling to my back I snaked up so that I had my feet up under me and my arms under, where I could slip the wrist coil through the cinch noose. I managed that and got my second wrist through the coil, twisting it into a sung figure eight around my wrists. That’s when something went wrong. I felt that the cinch line was going to be too short and started to slide my wrist back out. Unfortunately, my high heels slipped on the bedroom’s hardwood floor. Anyway, my legs kicked out, I flopped onto my back, and the mini-noose cinched up, leaving me trapped in an overly tight hog-tie. I had been propped upwards to make the self-bondage work, so when I slipped, my head whacked into the floor also, leaving me dazed for a minute or two. When my senses returned I started to try and move around to see what status I was in. The hog-tie was so short that my hands were right up next to my ankles. 

Normally, I could traverse the distance from the bedroom to kitchen, where my escape knife laid waiting, in about an hour. But in this case, I was barely able to move an inch at a time. By the time two hours had passed, I had just gotten to the living room. I had been forced to stop a number of times as the cramps from the enema were getting fierce. I also managed to have one real head banging orgasm about halfway own the hallway from the bedroom. It took another forty minutes to work across the living room to the kitchen entrance. It was now late afternoon. My whole body was cramped and I was rubbed raw from the ropes. There wasn’t going to be any way to hide this little adventure from my husband when he got home. 

As I inched forward I started to try and figure out how to explain this all to him. It wasn’t necessary. Just about the time I was three feet from the knife, a pair of loafer appeared in my line of sight. It was my husband, apparently having come home early for a head start on the weekend. A quick look told him this wasn’t a kidnapping, and I was quickly wrenched up onto my knees by the line around my chest. Pulled way back in the hog-tie, I teetered on wobbly knees as he gave me a long frowning look over. “Did this yourself ??” was his short question. I meekly nodded yes. Picking up the knife he again questioned, “Want to get loose now ??”  Again I nodded a weak affirmative. “Gonna have to earn it.” were his last words as he reached down and popped the cinch line, relaxing my stance. The noose portion stayed in place, however, so my wrists were still locked. I found myself pushed face first onto the floor, bent over, with my rear in the air. I was beset by another cramp attack from the enema and moaned into the gag. By this time my bladder was also screaming for attention. I had hope to be released so I could attend to these needs. What happened was that my lace bikini brief was pulled down and his large, already fully erect, penis was jammed into my vagina from the rear. 

As he impaled me I was quickly jolted with a pleasure/pain sensation of being filled in numerous ways. Between his engorged cock, the butt plug and enema, and my over full bladder, I was in real distress. He of course found the butt plug and started to play with it while ramming his cock in and out of me. It took only a minute or two before my tensions bounded into a screamer of an orgasm and I convulsed and pogo-stick bounced in his penis. I saw stars, heard crashing symphonies, and wrenched in climax spasm until I could barely breath.  Then I still had to submit there while he pounded away inside me for another five or eight minutes until he climaxed, squirting his hot love seed deeply into me. At that point, he dragged me, by the hair, to the bathroom, where he carefully propped me onto the commode before pulling my “plug”. I sat there, still bound and gagged, as I exploded into the bowl. 

After cleaning me up, and eventually removing the gag, I was made to explain everything to him. The net result was that I spent the rest of the weekend in bondage as his sex slave. Since that time I have spent many nights tied and helpless while being used and abused by him. Usually by him capturing and tying me up. But sometimes, I still set up a little self-bondage for him to “find” when he gets home
 

06.12.03