In a Pinch

Friday evening finally arrived and Sarah couldn't wait to slough off the stresses of the long week behind her.  She looked forward to the first quiet evening alone in weeks; her friends were cast to the four winds with obligations of their own, as well as her parents, enjoying the first day of their vacation. She hadn't had a boyfriend in some months and was getting accustomed to her sexual liberty, which is why tonight sounded like such a good idea for a little naughty play time.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Sarah peeled off her clothes and enjoyed those first seconds when her naked skin seemed to breathe easier, unconstrained by the elastic and wire of her undergarments.  Her clothes lay in an unceremonious heap in front of the hamper and she ran her hands over 36D breasts and hips as if clearing away the last vestiges of the office.  She wondered for a moment what her office mates would think if they saw her do what she was planning to do to herself in the next few minutes.  Her stomach did a little somersault as the thought freaked her out and aroused her at the same time.  Maybe she had been alone too long.

Sarah decided it would prudent to make a quick circuit of her apartment and check the curtains and door locks, and of course the stove, even though she hadn't cooked all day.  It made her feel better to check.  As she made her inspection, the sound of her bare feet padding along the hard wood floors echoed in her ears, raising her arousal level a touch.  She despised shoes and only wore them because everyone else in the world didn't have the common decency to just simply carpet everything.  Oh well, one day they'll all get it.  She always tried to wear as little shoe as possible and would go to work in her thinnest flip-flops if she could.  How else could she show off her shapely feet with the fresh pedicure, the new clear polish shining at the tips of her toes?

No matter, though, as her impending imprisonment would soon deny her the comfort of clothes, let alone shoes.  Tonight, Sarah decided, she would be naked, as a proper prisoner really should be.  What jailer would offer criminals such pleasures as covering while enduring confinement?  Surely she would not be spared.  The thought got her off track and she rested a hand on the wall while she regained her balance, a little flush ran through her.  If she didn't want to pop her cork before play time, she had to get back to business.

As she closed the last curtain, she caught a glimpse of pale skin in the hall mirror.  Shoulder length dark, cropped hair caressed the top of her shoulders and hazel eyes glared back at her momentarily.  Then her gaze dropped to take in the details of the full, supple breasts she viewed in the mirror.  She looked at them as if perhaps she had stolen a glance at some other woman's breasts and admired them lustily.  She reached her arms over head and crossed her wrists behind her head, and with a sultry move, gave her hips a little twist.  The movement of her body gave her gorgeous soft tits a little sway from side to side and she felt enraptured by their movements as if they had decided to try and tease her on their own.  She didn't know whether to thank Heaven, genetics or perhaps some eros-driven, lightning throwing, shadowy immortal who blessed her only to later pluck her and take her at his whim, but she had quite a voluptuous figure.  Again the idea of her plans came front and center into her mind, and she fought off the butterflies.  Whatever the source of her curves, she was going to punish her body for being so sexy.  She took one more quick glance at her breasts, her nipples starting the harden, thinking she had special plans for those beauties.

She took hard, fast steps back to the bedroom, throwing her hips to and fro, making her tits dance and bounce in all directions.  She scooped up the luscious orbs in her hands and kneaded them between her fingers, wresting them under control.  Her mind again envisioned the jailer, a medieval man-at-arms with crags and wrinkles in his face and rough hewn hands squeezing them mercilessly.  She was to be imprisoned, and properly restrained to punish her for her crimes. 

From the deep, black corner of the closet came her private toy chest, a vault of naughty delights she enjoyed when the time was right.  Her bondage would be simple, but restrictive, and if she wanted to escape, she would have to endure a self-imposed torture.  Without a moments hesitation, the silver Fury leg shackles with the 12" chain came out of the box and were instinctively snapped around both of her delicate ankles.  In fact, it was only after the second bracelet had ratcheted shut as tightly as it would go did Sarah even consider where the keys were.  After a quick rummage, she plucked them from the bottom of the box and placed them on the nightstand, easy to pick up, for now, she thought.  She admired her shackled feet in the cold steel, alternately pointing her toes in a hard arch and then throwing her legs as wide as she could to relish the feeling of the chain snapping her legs at a hard 12 inches.  She wondered to herself why didn't she wear these more often?  Around the house, while watching TV or cleaning?  Note to self for later; keep the shackles handy.

After the initial rush of the ankle bondage started to wear off, she plucked a neatly wound coil of thin rope from the box.  As Sarah unwound the loops, the ends of the rope made a satisfying thud against the floor.  Once fully unraveled, she double the rope over evenly, making sure the ends stayed an equal length.  When she was left with a small loop in her hand and a new jumble of rope at her feet, she wrapped the doubled rope around the top of her chest, pulling the long ends through the bend, twisting the loop around her body and cinching the rope until two tight cords of rope encircled her chest just above her breasts and the two long ends pulled against the bend behind her back.  Keep the tension strong, she wrapped the rope in the opposite direction, running the ends through the new loop in the middle of her back and taking up the slack until two tight cords bit slightly into her skin under her breasts.  Her breathing accentuated the grip of the rope-work, and she used this a gauge to keep the tightness even while she threaded the remainder of the long ends through the solid loops in the middle of her back and brought the long ends to the back of her head where she split them, one over each shoulder, and then brought them back together as she ran them under the two pairs of taught rope compressing her chest.  Carefully keeping the tension, she wrapped the long ends around the two pairs and when she made one full wrap around them, Sarah pulled the rope tight.  The high and low rope came together between her tits in a firm cinch that quickly made her breasts compress where they met her chest and engorge.  Her tits were suddenly very full feeling and the skin pulled tight.  Her nipples showed their approval.  Soon enough my lovelies, she thought.  The jailer was feeling particularly cruel tonight.

Sarah wrapped the end of the rope a few more times around the middle of the cinch and brought the separate ends over her shoulders and around the back of her neck.  She tied the ends in a simple knot and pulled, keeping the tension.  Her breasts heaved up and she applied a simple bow to keep them in place.  Some of her more expensive bras didn't give the the lift and separation this simple rig did. Hmmm... how would it look under a shirt?  Later, she thought.

The jailer felt a crotch rope was in order.  Why not watch the prisoner squirm?  Sarah wondered if a dildo or one of her little vibrators would be appropriate.  No, again no such pleasure for this slut. She's probably in prison for prostitution, or adultery, why give her any satisfaction?  Another coil of thin rope was taken from the box, and like the breast rope started with a doubled length of cord wrapped around her waist and threaded through the bend.  The rope burned a little as she pulled it tighter and tighter while centering the bend over the top of her ass.  She didn't get to see as much of her ass as her sexy twins, but she admired its fullness just the same and gave herself a firm whack on the right buttock.  She was rewarded with a tasty little delayed sting in her cheek and the pleasure of a titillating jiggle that gave her pussy just a little play.  No more of that if I want to get this going, she thought.  Again keeping the tension with one hand against the bend in the rope, she reach between her legs and snagged the two dangling ends with two fingers.  Once in hand, she pulled the two ends up and under the pair of tight cords just above her mound and took up the slack.  She gave each butt cheek a little adjustment to let the rope slide right up into the crack of her ass.  With a little more pulling, she could feel rough hemp twine she was using slip in between her pussy lips.  Her pussy moistened just a little against the dry rope and it felt as if her labia were gripping the rope themselves. 

With another tug to give everything a frustrating tightness, she pulled down on the ends of the rope in front of her, pulling her sinister belt into an alluring V-shape, like a bikini.  Every little movement was reminder not to move.  Catching her breath, Sarah sent the two long ends of the rope back between her legs and scooped them up behind her.  Keeping the tightness at cruel levels, she passed the two ends of the rope, one to each hand, around the back of her legs, just under her buttocks and wrapped the single lengths around the tops of her thighs, creating tight loops that gave her ass the same bulging taught sensation as her breasts.  Sarah only wrapped the rope once to let the cord bite into her.  Pulling the ends tight, she wrapped the ends around to the front and tied the remainder of the ends into a tight knot joining the intersection of her rope bikini.  The ends hung down and brushed against her thighs, almost annoying.  Good.

An involuntary little gasp erupted from Sarah's throat and it actually startled her a bit.  Time to fix that, she thought.  Another reach into the box produced a web of thin leather straps with a red rubber ball secured amongst them.  As if ordered, Sarah slipped the ball between her lips and forced it between her teeth.  As her jaw relaxed into position, she felt how her mouth closed very little and the ball filled the gape of jaw quite tightly.  The straps were pulled over her hair and she laughed a little to herself as she realized how the head harness was already well fitted from her last foray.  She buckled the strap at the back of her head and pulled the chin straps a notch tighter.  The ball suddenly felt as much a part of her head as her tongue or her nose, over which a tight strap met with a single ring that pulled another strap tightly down on her head. She groaned into the gag, as if ordering it to leave, but little more that a grunt at the back of her throat could be heard.  And by whom? The gag remained, unrelenting, and no one else would hear her cries.

A pair of Fury handcuffs emerged from the box, a matched set to the restraints clinking on her ankles, and Sarah carefully hung them around the intersection the crotch rope made over her ass.  The cuffs were pulled up under her waist rope and on either side of the rope emerging from her ass, placed so they could not be pulled one way or the other (unless she wanted cut herself in half.  The rope felt like it was half way there already).  She sidled her hips from side to side, the crotch rope digging and stroking with each twist. Her breasts shimmied very little this time as the rope that enveloped them pulled them tight and immobile.  Her chained feet took tentative steps, each one accompanied by the bite of rope and a tingle of excitement.  The handcuffs hanging on her ass bounced and jingled with a little slap with each step she took.

The two final items she plucked from the box were a small Velcro cable strap with a plastic loop and a favorite little jewel that she had forsaken for quite some time.  Sarah had experimented with and enjoyed, to varying degrees, all sorts of nipple clamps.  But hands down, the clover clamps were her favorite.  And tonight she would reintroduce herself to them in grand style.  They were to be the centerpiece of her bondage, the linchpin from which, if she could not escape, she would be helpless for a long time.  She had, during previous self-imposed predicaments, fastened her limbs to various immovable, ensnaring anchor points.  But tonight, the jailer was feeling particularly clever and sadistic.

She stepped slowly into her bathroom, the final stretch toward her prison.  She caught a sudden glance of herself in the mirror.  Not at once did she think this silly or dangerous.  She felt incredibly aroused, and every curve she relished earlier in the hallway mirror was infinitely more sexy wrapped in tight rope or ringed with metal shackles.  Sarah's heart and stomach were in full flutter, and the bathroom mirror got a full show as she gave all of her trussing a good test to see how well it was enveloping her soft delicate flesh.  Her tits barely moved and her crotch rope seemed to find new uncharted depths.  The whole rig was maddening, and all Sarah wanted to do was reach under the crotch rope and break the tension, but alas it was too late.  Her sentenced had been handed down, the jailer had prepped her incarceration and no governor was calling to grant her a stay of "execution."

She turned and faced her cell, the slim unimposing shower stall that had greeted her first thing every morning.  For all the showers she had taken in there, she could never full understand what the little bar embedded in the shower wall was for.  Chest height, only an inch or so of clearance from the wall.  It was convenient to hang onto for balance occasionally and before she switched to a bath sponge, was suitable for her washcloth.  The frosted glass door was a nice touch, and it always closed with a satisfying click.  Tonight, that would be the sound of her cage door.

Sarah stepped over the threshold of the shower door, and her feet immediately found the cold remnants of her wash this morning.  Little puddles all over the floor made her prison that much less inviting (or more?) and the chain of her shackles clacked loudly against the hard plastic of the stall floor.  The sound was a constant reminder of her restraints, and the thought that others outside of her cell might hear the noise unsettled her.  Again, no matter, there was nothing she could do about it.  And what if a fellow apartment dweller came to investigate the sound?  What would they find?  Sarah suddenly wished she knew her neighbors a little better.

The door closed behind her with that satisfying click, as if the door seal that kept water from leaking out of the shower was also sealing her in.  Her breath was long and heavy through her nose and the tight coils around her chest continued to constrict.  Sarah took the short Velcro cable strap and caught the chain of the clamps within it and then wrapped it around the short bar embedded in the stall wall.  The strap ran through the plastic loop on one end and then doubled over on itself to form a strong, tight ring around the bar.  She gave the clamps a firm tug and realized how strong Velcro was, the strap did not move.

Taking a moment to work a little courage, Sarah centered the the clamps between the strap.  With a trembling hand, she leaned in close to the wall and slipped her right nipple between the open jaw of the clamp.  She gently released the mechanism and the clamp went from closing around her nipple to squeezing to trying to make the two halves of the jaw touch.  God these things are tight, she thought.  She made quick work of her left nipple before she chickened out, and with a gentle hand, gave both short chains a quick pull to seal the deal.  The clamps dug in and the direct connection she imagined she had from her nipples to her clit kicked in.  A dampness was definitely forming between her legs, and a raw sensation against the crotch rope was quickly becoming noticeable.  The rush of the pressure on her delicate tips forced a gasp in her throat, and she put her hands against the wall to steady herself.  A few tears ran from her eyes as the sexy rush became the sharp ache she was looking for.  She came back to earth and realized how close she would have to stand to the wall, even her toes were practically touching the wall.  This was going to be precarious.

The jailer was growing impatient.  The prisoner was nearly fully restrained and ready for her stay.  With inelegant gruffness, Sarah's wrists were swung behind her back, forced into the cuffs, and the cold steel ratchets were clasped shut around them.  She gave the the cuffs a test and the pull against her pussy felt very sure.  Sarah considered what she just did. The key to those cuffs was a room away, close enough.  All she had to do was free herself from the clamps, whose continuous pressure on her nipples seemed to grow more intense every second.  A little wave of fear ran through her and she instinctively tried to reach around to free herself from the wall.  Her rope work was solid and she rewarded herself with another hard dig against her pussy.  A gasp tried to escape through her gag and for the first time tonight, the "mmmph" it created scared her.  No one would hear her cries.  And no one was coming to rescue her.  If Sarah was going to escape, she was going to have endure the torture she imagined for herself.

She would have to pull her nipples out of the clamps that tightened the more she pulled or she would be trapped; naked, bound and helpless.

* * * *

Five minutes went by as Sarah continued to survey her predicament, what she could have sworn was an hour. Her tits, bound and cinched by her simple yet sturdy rope work, seemed to swell even harder as the dull ache of her bondage settled in.  Everything was quite taut, save her legs with which she had limited movement, but the chain between her ankles still proved annoying enough, and what movement she could produce was thwarted every inch by her crotch rope, an intense reminder she was quickly regretting.  The chain connecting her nipples to the bar, already sadistically short, was now halved as it bent at the very sturdy strap she secured there.  She had maybe four inches of space between the clamps the wall, and this proved little leeway as her attempt to stand straight and maintain her balance and stamina was thwarted by the fact that the floor of the shower gently curved as it met the wall, leaving no room for her to stand flat footed.  To maintain balance, she had to lean in toward the wall, just slightly, but enough that she was forced to put her weight on the balls of her feet.  After the first few minutes, this strategy was quickly showing its weakness as her legs strained and trembled, her calf muscles quivering in the stressed position. 

With as much control as she could muster, Sarah also tried to get her feet directly under her, but the curve of the shower floor bent her toes back enough that after a minute or so, they would begin to cramp, and it would take all of her strength to get back on the balls of her feet, leaning into the wall, without yanking too hard on the nipple clamps.  No position seemed to offer the long term comfort she desired and before long, Sarah lamented the shuffling dance she had to perform to stave off fatigue, a dreaded choreography of balance and coordination in an effort to ease her already aching muscles and prevent any more yanking on her burning nipples.  She was well beyond caring about the cacophony her ankle shackles were making as this went on.

Her stomach began to rise and fall with the long breaths she was drawing and the excited butterflies she experienced just before her incarceration had returned in the form of a sick queasy feeling.  What the hell had she done to herself?  How was she supposed to pull free of the clamps when even their subtlest movement caused her to recoil and relent to her bondage?  After a moment of complete panic, Sarah found a small bubble of courage and with every ounce of strength and control she could muster, she established a nice balanced pivot on the balls of her feet and leaned away from the wall in an attempt to test the resolve of clamps.  Their response was certain and steadfast, and the electric shocks she felt in her delicate tips was answer enough that she was clearly outclassed in will and staying power by these torturous engineering wonders.  A groan of agony tried to slip past the embedded red ball, but the "mmmph" that emerged yet again was now of little comfort, and her eyes rolled back then shut tight as the full bite of the clamps registered in her brain.  Her breath quickened into a series of muffled gasps that died in the back of her throat as she fought to maintain her composure.

The spring of her bound breasts was all she had left to force momentum the other way and return her to her forward lean, and her legs trembled from crotch to toe, exhausted and spent in the awkward exchange of weight that kept her upright.  Sarah landed against the wall softly and she lingered there for a moment, ignoring the raspy noise the clamps made as they scraped the cold plastic.  Leaning against her clamps didn't hurt nearly as much as pulling, but it was the opposite of escape.  Her breathing came under control after a few more heavy heaves through her nose, and she arranged her feet as best she could to again assume the work of balance and get her as upright as possible.

The clink of the clamps' chain mocked Sarah as she again distributed her weight gingerly, daring her to pull away again.  After a few motionless moments, fairly sure she was solid, Sarah lowered her gaze to her breasts to survey the situation.  The clamps were still in their original position, unmoved from any of the pulling.  And they were certainly tighter, the skin trapped between the tiny jaws white from lack of blood flow.  She wasn't too concerned about nerve damage, her nerves were reminding her every second they were there.  She gave her shoulders a gentle twist, moving her tied tits left and right just enough to take up the slack in the chain and gauge how secure the metal antagonizers were.  The clamps felt and looked as if they were screwed on right through her nipples, and the sudden lack of options sank in.

As she continued to study her chains, a warm stream of drool slipped from both sides of her mouth and onto the top of her chest just above the top breast rope.  The volume of the stream caught her a bit off guard and a thin river quickly trickled it's way over and into the ropes, running over the inside of her breasts, darkening the rope knot that cinched her tits tightly.  From there, big drops formed and slowly teased and tickled there way down her stomach.  In another minute or so, she could feel the flow of spit mingle into her pubic hair, joining the wetness below.

She couldn't believe it, but through her agony and agonizing, she was very aroused.  She was tied up, helpless, and in real trouble.  She briefly imagined her jailer laughing, asking if she was comfortable, pouring his warm sticky beer down her chest.  She leaned her head forward and another serving of warm drool ushered forth, almost twice as much as before, this time running to the outside of her breasts and toward her armpits.  The slow rivulets had a million tiny legs as they crawled their way down her sides, out of the reach of her arms and cuffed hands.

Sarah gave her hips a grind and her clit rewarded her with an excited wave of anticipation.  She never came without a vibrator before, and working her crotch into the rope was as much pain as pleasure.  The soft, spongy rope she ran between her legs earlier was soaked through and hardened, and left her feeling chapped and raw along her labia and the top of her thighs.  The erotic sensations flowing through her helped to ease the burn in her nipples, and if she could maintain her state of arousal, maybe she could get through this.

With effort, Sarah managed to grind out about 15 or so pelvic thrusts against the biting ropes.  The sting in her nipples was unforgiving, yet as the thrusts mounted, without realizing, she pulled quite hard on the clamps.  Her eyes slid shut and the ropes that were coarse and painful a moment ago were slick and glided every so slightly against her pulsing sex.  She let the predicament of the moment wash over her.  Alone... sealed in her cell... chained to the wall by her nipples...her wrists and ankles securely shackled... naked and humiliated... the jailer watched in silent pleasure as the slut who earlier protested her innocence gave into her lust and desire and indulged herself in her torment... thriving on the pain and torture...

Right at this moment, Sarah's regrets evaporated.  The stress of a week at work vanished.  All of the anxiety, and fear and anticipation of this evening culminated in these few minutes where every inch of her skin tingled, her trembling muscles were fluid and loose.  The sound of her breathing were gasps of pleasure, muffled and enticing.  This is how she wanted to feel all day, and right now, she wished she could stayed tied up like this forever.

The dam of her orgasm broke and waves of warmth and pleasure filled her, body and mind.  Her inner thighs were soaked and the rope was slick and silky with her flowing juices, her thrusting now automatic and continuous.  The clamps on her nipples were like ocean breakers, reflecting each wave crashing through her with a warm throb echoing her heart beat.  Her chest was coated and glistening as the stifled moans burst forth in her throat with a rush of warm saliva, the ropes compressing her chest now dark and creaking with each breath. 

The chain between Sarah's ankles was quiet as in the throes of her climax, she has propped her self up on her toes, letting her body lean away from the wall while the clamps gripping her kept her upright.  Her feet were planted in their place, the chain taut between them.  The waves began to subside a little and Sarah began to focus on the clasp of her cuffs and shackles.  She couldn't see them, but she knew how she must have looked in them.  The thought of her restraints, the mental image of her pale limbs locked securely in place and the feeling they created then she gave her wrists and ankles a little twist with the steel rings started a fresh flow from her trussed pussy.  The clamps still only buzzed with warmth, a steady pulse from which she now only drew pleasure.  The thought of being trapped, naked and chained, in her cell was intense and inviting, and the fear from earlier was replaced with a desire to stay this way as long as possible.  Isolated... helpless... exposed... this is what this little slut deserved...

The next wave of pleasure washed over Sarah, striking hard enough to cause her knees to go weak and giving her nipples a hard tug before catching herself.  The yank set off a long, low growl in her throat as the orgasm fired away relentlessly, trailing off as a series of little whines through her nose as the tingles ebbed slightly. She loved being tied up, and for the moment, she didn't care if she was ever set free.  And who would set her free?  There was no rescue, no release she knew that didn't involve further torture, no reprieve.  This was a life sentence...

A third orgasm shot through her and the river of her natural lubricant ran all the way down her legs and trickled across her toes and into the arches of  her feet.  The floor of the tub was slightly slick and Sarah envisioned her rancid cell.  The smell of sex and sweat wafted to her nose.  The warm saliva spread across her chest started to cool a little and she imagined the jailer keeping her filthy, wallowing in her fluids.  If that was how she had to stay, what was she going to to about it?

11.11.09